Bleach, Harry Potter 1. Ivory & Scarlet

Summary: Grimmjow, a half-veela, will do just about anything to mate with his long-time rival, a certain orange-haired Gryffindor. GrimmIchi, yaoi

Warnings: Yaoi, sexual content later on (involving minors), language, occult themes, angst, and slight violence.

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><p><strong>Epoximise <strong>

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><p><em>Prologue: Ivory<em>

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><p>On that day in Diagon Alley, it was bright and warm, one of those days that make you feel like everything is right with the world, and so it was for a mother and her young son, walking through the crowded streets as if the throng of people parted just for them. There were stares and whispers sent their way, some eyes wide in outright appreciation, others narrowed in distaste.<p>

Rangiku Jaegerjaques was all used to this, of course. Such reactions from people had followed her her entire life like a shadow, and while some of it had attributed to her happiness as she loved being in the spotlight, she couldn't deny that she was tired of the spectacle that happened every time she left Jaegerjaques Manor. Not to mention the fact that she was more than slightly agitated by how the crowd was obviously bothering her six year-old son, whom clung to her robes like it was a lifeline.

She rested an assuring hand on the boy's bright blue head of hair and he immediately raised his face to look at her with big, child-like eyes that were several shades a darker blue than her own aquamarine.

"Mother, why is everyone staring at us?" he whispered in such an innocent way that it pulled on Rangiku's heartstrings. Honestly, she must have tried a thousand different times to get her son to call her 'mummy' or 'mum', but the boy's father was incredibly strict when it came to speaking properly. Such was the Pureblood way of life, though her husband had had no qualms about marrying her despite his family's outrage at him sullying the bloodline by "breeding with such a thing."

"Because they find us interesting, dearheart," she responded as they continued to head towards their destination of Flourish & Blott's, threading her finger's through her son's hair. The strawberry blonde woman felt a tug at her robes once more and looked down to see the blue-haired boy was frowning heavily.

He frowned far too much for a child.

"It's my hair, isn't it?" he asked as if he already knew the answer and Rangiku felt immediately scandalized. She knew her son was sometimes treated differently because of whom his parents were, but she had barely even given thought to the fact the young boy might feel ostracized because of his unusual hair color.

A scowl marring her ethereally beautiful face, Rangiku stopped walking then and there to kneel down in order to bring herself eye-level with her son, looking into the cobalt blue orbs that swirled with rejection. To see her child in such a way nearly broke her heart into a million different pieces.

"Now you listen to me Grimmjow Ambricus Willhelm Berinhard Jaegerjaques, your blue hair comes from your ancestry on my side and it is rare and beautiful and the people who speak ill of it are envious of you," she said passionately, placing her hands on her son's shoulders. Perhaps her words were too lofty for a mere child to understand but she felt her mission was accomplished when Grimmjow's frown lessened and his expression took on that of a more curious one.

"Ancestry?" he questioned even as his mother stood up to her full height, taking his smaller hand into his. Rangiku knew the smart little boy knew what the word meant, but he was obviously puzzled as to what his mother could mean by her family's ancestry, when she wasn't a Pureblooded witch.

In fact, she wasn't technically a witch at all.

"Yes, dearheart," Rangiku used the affectionate nickname she had used for her only child ever since the day he was born. "My veela ancestry."

"Oh," was all Grimmjow had to say to that, but the woman couldn't blame him one bit. He had always been uncomfortable with the fact that his mother was a full-blooded veela, and how that in turn made him half-veela. And with reason as well, in the eyes of the Purebloods that little Grimmjow regularly associated with veelas were magical creatures and no better than an animal. A repulsive viewpoint to have, but her poor son didn't know any better.

And that was why she was taking him to Flourish & Blott's that day.

As she had been speaking with veela elders the month prior, they had revealed to her that there was an ancient text in the bookstore's storeroom that contained all the information one could ever need to know about a veela. Though being a full veela she had no use for this, but she was sure her son would need it someday.

Being a veela was never an easy thing, despite the beauty and power being one gave you. And anything Rangiku could do to make her son feel more comfortable with the part of him that was veela and would call for him to do things wizards would never think to do, she would do it.

The mother and son walked right up to the crowded entryway of the bookstore and just as expected, there was a part in the cluster of people that allowed them to slip right through, eyes glued to them as they walked by. Rangiku knew most of them looked because of her and her son's veela allure, though she wore a light glamour in order to conceal most of her's. However, she knew some of them outright stared in revulsion at the "creature" that had dared to marry the only male heir to the Jaegerjaques bloodline, an ancient and noble Pureblood family.

She shielded her son the best she could from the onlookers, cradling his head against her side even as his bright sapphire eyes took in the store around him, wonder filling him at the sheer amount of books in the place whose number must have rivaled the number of those in the library back at home in the manor.

Rangiku escorted her son to the back of the bookstore where a single clerk was standing behind an antique, mahogany desk. The clerk raised his head from where he had been busy writing away with a long-feathered quill to the stunningly beautiful woman before him and struggled to keep his mouth closed and not drop at her sheer magnificence.

"Hello, I am Rangiku Jaegerjaques. I believe the book I ordered should have arrived today?" she greeted, her full lips parting into a winning smile that had the clerk sputtering and nearly knocking over his ink jar in his haste to find her order on his desk.

"Yes, yes! It's right here," he stuttered, picking up with both hands a very heavy and ancient book bound in worn leather and faded gold lettering on the front, wrapped in fine rice paper. Rangiku's eyes glittered with excitement as she nearly ripped the book from the clerk's hands despite his warnings that the text was very fragile, being so old.

She used one perfectly manicured fingernail to slice through the rice paper and reveal the cover with its ancient gold script, the title first in English and then in a language you would never be able to understand unless you were of veela descent. Crouching down, she showed the ancient book to her son, whom was looking at it with eager eyes.

"_The Cryptic and Beautiful Veela_," he read aloud, stumbling over the second word. "Mother, what does 'cryptic' mean?"

"Mysterious or secretive," Rangiku replied, flipping the cover over to see the title page that held a beautiful illustration of a heavenly, winged veela flying in the sky above a male wizard whom looked up to her with an enraptured expression, both reaching for each other for a desperate embrace. It had been charmed to move at some point but the spell had worn with age and all that remained was the veela's bird-like wings fluttering a bit.

"That doesn't sound like you," Grimmjow observed, another frown already passing over his face. His mother only chuckled at her son's precociousness but before she could answer, the boy was pointing to the charmed illustration. "Mother, why are they reaching for other?"

"Because they love each other, dearheart."

"Like how you and Father love each other?" the boy asked, his fingers tracing over the illustration, lingering over the veela's wings.

"Yes, Grimmjow. They and your Father and I are Mates," Rangiku explained, looking up to her son's face to see him wrinkle his nose in bewilderment.

"Mates?" Grimmjow's single-word question had a bit of derision in it and Rangiku sighed, dreading to have to explain the concept of Mates to a six year-old child.

"When you get older, much, _much _older, Grimmjow, you will find someone you will want to be with for the rest of your life and your veela side will call to you to bond the two of you together. They will be your Mate," Rangiku simplified the idea as best she could, not even thinking of going into great detail about just what kind of things the veela mating ritual involved. In her eyes, Grimmjow would probably never be old enough to hear about that, not even when he reached his one hundred and thirty-first birthday.

"But..." Grimmjow bit his lip, obviously thinking hard about the subject. "But how will I know?"

"Trust me, dearheart," Rangiku laughed gaily, resting her hand atop her son's turquoise locks of hair, a rare color even for a veela. "Trust me, you'll know."

"If you say so, Mother," Grimmjow said with a hint of petulance, apparently not liking the subject of any possible future Mating so much anymore. Rangiku just rolled her eyes and raised herself to full height once more before tucking the already purchased book under her arm. She took her son's hand firmly in, despite his protests that he was much too old for handholding.

"Come now, darling. We can go look at brooms now, since you've only been pestering me about it for the last three weeks."

"Yes!" Grimmjow shouted in glee, jumping into the air and temporarily forgetting his status as a Pureblood heir and the fact that his father would have a coronary if he ever saw his only son acting in such a way in public, even though the blunette boy was just his excitement, he barrelled down the aisle of books, dragging his mother along and didn't see the small orange-haired boy that was right in his path.

They were headed for a head-on collision from the very start, the other boy not paying attention as he looked up at his own mother as he held up a book in his hands. Grimmjow was just too ecstatic at the prospect of getting his first ever broomstick that he just didn't notice until he forcefully collided with the boy, sending them both sprawling onto the floor.

The blue-haired child groaned, rubbing his forehead where it had knocked into the other's and sat up, immediately locking gazes with teary fawn brown eyes, freezing on the spot as if enchanted to be turned into stone.

"Oh my, I am just _so _sorry!" Rangiku exclaimed, picking her son bodily up off of the floor, running her hands over him even as she spoke to the mother of the orange-haired boy, whom had also been been swept into the arms of his mother.

"That's quite alright, no harm done. Isn't that right, _tenshi_?" the other woman said, directing the question to her son, whom immediately scrambled out of her arms to hide behind her, looking from behind her legs to Grimmjow with a somewhat frightened expression. Not that anyone could blame the poor thing, the blue-haired boy was staring at him as if he just sprouted horns.

Rangiku smiled and nodded at the woman, glad for a nice enough person that could see that it had just been an accident. Besides that, the woman didn't stare at her openly like most did, instead all of her attention was focused on her own son, whom, Rangiku noticed, had hair just as brightly colored as her Grimmjow's.

After saying some hurried good-byes, the veela grasped her son by his collar and nearly dragged him out the store, not even noticing that Grimmjow's gaze remained behind them, completely devoted to the orange-haired boy that stared right back at him from behind his mother's legs.

But this was all a very long time ago and no one remembers such small things.

Or do they?

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><p><em>Chapter One: Scarlet<em>

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><p>Ichigo Kurosaki was in the Great Hall for the second time that day, but it wasn't because it was finally time to dig into his favorite steak and kidney pudding for lunch after a particularly grueling double period of Potions (a torturous experience if there was one, considering the Potions Master absolutely <em>loathed<em> him and seemed to find great delight in making those four hours pure misery for the poor boy.)

No, that wasn't it at all, but he couldn't deny that it was just as exciting. In fact, it was decidedly more so, because it was finally the time of year when the Duelling Club started up again and that day was the very first meeting with all of the Houses' teams, the one where he would at last be introduced as the Captain of Gryffindor's house team.

The Great Hall had been set up in the usual club tradition, the tables all gone from the massive room leaving it almost empty except for the long platform in the center, raised about five or so feet above the ground. The ceiling above was reflective of the brisk autumn day outside, the sun deceptively bright and the blue of the sky luminescent, with not a cloud to mar it.

Students from all of the different houses and years were gathered around the platform, whispering to each other about the upcoming meeting and presumably other things typical of teenagers. In the far right corner Ichigo spotted a group of seventh-year Slytherins, noticing among them a head of bright blue hair. A deeply-seated scowl immediately replaced his indifferent expression, nearly ruining the lovely features of his handsome face.

"_Psst_, Ichi, over here~!"

The orangette's eyes snapped away from the unwelcome blue-haired head to see a near-perfect copy of himself leaning against the platform. The only difference between Ichigo and his twin brother, Shiro, was that the former had been born an albino and therefore had been accursed (or blessed, depending on whom you asked) with snowy white skin and matching hair. Though those abnormalities paled in comparison, quite literally, to the black and gold eyes and manic grin his brother sported.

Yes, even in the wizarding world, Shiro was a strange one.

Ichigo's frown lessened a bit at the sight of his beloved brother and walked over to where he was standing, noticing then that Shiro had an arm slung over the shoulders of a dark-haired boy with a hesitant smile, making Ichigo's lips twitch just a little. It had only been a matter of time, really.

"Hey, Shiro," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Neville," he added, nodding to his fellow Gryffindor and what he assumed to be his brother's new boyfriend.

"Hi, Ichigo," Neville Longbottom greeted, looking, even with all of his usual bashfulness, quite comfortable under Shiro's arm.

"So, Ichi...heard ya made captain this year," the albino said in a lilting tone, cocking an eyebrow at his younger-by-two-minutes twin brother.

Ichigo shouldn't have been surprised that Shiro knew, despite the fact that he had just found out himself that he been appointed Captain of Gryffindor's Dueling Team just an hour prior. It hadn't been a very grand meeting between him and his head of house, Professor Urahara, as he had very simply told him that he had gotten the position in that

Being only a sixth year and holding the title of Captain was an accomplishment, as it _always_ went to a seventh year and there hadn't been a lack of them proficient at duelling either this year. Though the orangette was honored that Urahara had chosen him over the others, he couldn't deny the real reason he was tickled pink by the news.

And that reason was the captain of Slytherin's house team, the bane of his very existence since the day he had first arrived at Hogwarts on the train, the one he was going to absolutely _destroy _in the first customary duel of the year, between Gryffindor and Slytherin's Dueling Club captains.

That reason was Grimmjow Jaegerjaques.

Not that Ichigo would _ever _admit to that, of course. Oh no, he was perfectly content in pretending that Jaegerjaques didn't even exist outside of when they were making snide comments to each other or even outright brawling Muggle-style in the hallways...and in the classrooms...and in the Great Hall...and even once in the Forbidden Forest that one time they had been serving detention with the half-giant gatekeeper and-...

But that's beside the point. The point was was that the Gryffindor would never own up to the fact that the first thing he had thought of when he had been appointed captain was the look that would be on Jaegerjaques' face when it was announced. Though, it would be much better if Ichigo hadn't been the second ever sixth year made captain.

The first, as fate would have it, being Jaegerjaques himself.

"Well I had to keep up with you somehow, Shiro," Ichigo retorted, referencing his brother's position as the Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team. The white-haired twin just smirked at that, obviously still smug over his appointment to the role of Quidditch captain though it had been decided over a month ago.

Despite his real reason for being ecstatic at being chosen, the fact that he also was on level playing ground with his twin brother was just the icing on a very delicious cake.

"Tha' ya did, Ichi," Shiro chuckled, turning his head to whisper something into Neville's ear, which made the poor thing blush a bright crimson red and Ichigo could only guess what the Slytherin was saying. The brunette surely had to be some kind of twisted masochist to want to be with Shiro.

Suppressing a mirthful smirk at both his brother's antics and the promise of what was to come, Ichigo diverted his attention to the platform onto which a figure dressed in green robes had now appeared. Complete with a fan covering half of his face and a cane in his left hand that the orangette knew acted as the man's wand, Professor Urahara looked every bit the eccentric teacher of Defense Against the Dark Arts that he was. A silence fell across the Great Hall as all of the students suddenly stopped talking.

Most Hogwarts students, regardless of year or house had great respect for the DADA professor. Though he had only been part of the staff since the beginning of the year, they were all mystified that he seemed to appear out of thin air most of the time, despite the fact that you couldn't Apparate on school grounds. Besides that, he was a brilliant teacher, vague but patient and knowledgeable. Hence, the silence.

"Hello, young pupils," Urahara greeted in that lilting tone of his, gesturing with his fan to all of the students that had gathered around the platform, eager looks all plastered on their faces. Snapping shut the fan, he stored it in the folds of his robes. "Welcome to the first meeting of the Duelling Club."

Ichigo felt a great swell of excitement in his chest. Not only was he seconds away from being announced captain, but mere moments after that the infamous duel between the house captains would begin. He felt his hand go to his pocket, withdrawing his wand and rubbing his thumb over the smooth holly wood, feeling the scars the thing held from all the years of abuse he had put it through. The wand was practically vibrating in his fingers, obviously feeling its owner's elation.

Professor Urahara cleared his throat and swung his cane around as he paced the length of the platform, a noncommittal, small smile on his face.

"Now, I am this club's supervisor as the Defense Against the Dark Arts' instructor, but as you probably know, I only am to chaperon the inter-House duelling competitions. Your regular practices will be held by the captains of your respective team. And those would be..." Urahara trailed off, using his free hand to pat down his emerald green robes, apparently looking for something.

Suddenly he made a noise of revelation and snapped his fingers once, a piece of parchment appearing in the air in front of him and he snatched it, gray eyes scanning what was written there. Such a paltry trick did little to excite the older students, but a few of the first year, muggle-born students were delighted, big eyes widening even more.

"And those would be," Urahara began again. "Shinji Hirako for Hufflepuff, Luna Lovegood for Ravenclaw, Grimmjow Jaegerjaques for Slytherin, and," the instructor paused to clear his throat yet again and Ichigo could have flown up onto the platform and strangled him just then, but instead he let his toffee brown eyes to glance over to where he had earlier seen that blue head of hair, locating the tall, broad-shouldered body it belonged to.

However, instead of finding Jaegerjaques conversing with his fellow snake friends or looking off into the distance with bored cyanic eyes as he was wont to do (_not _that Ichigo noticed, of course) the blunette was staring directly at him, their gaze locking faster than a _Colloportus_ charm.

"And Ichigo Kurosaki for Gryffindor."

But he didn't even get to enjoy what he thought would be a look of surprise or rage on Jaegerjaques' face, because instead the Slytherin seventh-year was grinning broadly at him, his blue eyes gleaming madly, as if he knew that Ichigo had made captain or like he was..._pleased _by the news.

The orangette's face immediately fell into a frown and he turned away, unnerved by that manic show of pure white teeth and sapphire orbs glinting in an almost sadistic pleasure. Too often he had seen that expression before his and Jaegerjaques' confrontations turned outright physical, wands laying forgotten on the floor as they punched and kicked each other right into the hospital wing.

Oh yes, let's just say Madame Pomfrey _loved _their monthly visits. Like she loved having first years throw up all over her and older students at her door in the middle of the night, begging for a potion to make the itching stop _down there_.

He felt a clap on his shoulder as someone congratulated, but he only gave a half-smile and nod in acceptance, still thoroughly disturbed (and yet somehow excited) by the look on Jaegerjaques' face. He barely even listened as Urahara said another few short sentences before tapping his cane on the platform, garnering his attention with the sharp sound the action brought, gaze snapping up to where the DADA professor seemed to be cryptically smiling just at him.

"And now I suppose it's time for a little fun, yes? As most of you know, the first meeting of the year holds a duel between the captains, Hufflepuff versus Ravenclaw and Slytherin versus Gryffindor."

An excited murmur spread like wildfire across the Great Hall and Ichigo knew that it was due to the fact that they had just remembered that they were promised a battle between himself and the captain of the Slytherin team, two of the most infamous rivals in the entire school.

"As tradition dictates, Slytherin and Gryffindor are up first, so if the respective captains would please step right on up," Urahara announced in a playful tone, eyes sparkling as his gaze swept over Ichigo and then to Jaegerjaques, whose manic grin had still not faltered the orangette confirmed as he looked back to his long-time rival.

Honestly, the sight of the boy set his blood on fire, and it wasn't entirely unpleasant.

"Ya got this, king," Shiro whispered in his ear as Ichigo approached the platform, even though he and Jaegerjaques were in the same house and therefore teammates. Family came first, after all.

The Gryffindor didn't bother to use the stairs, instead lifting himself onto the platform in what he hoped was an impressive feat of upper-body strength. Never mind the fact that his arms fairly burned like the flames of Hades were licking at them afterwards. Mentally shaking the pain away, Ichigo reached into his pocket and drew out his wand, the sense of security that always came with doing so washing over him like a comforting wave of warmth.

The wand, comprised of wood from a holly tree and the core being unicorn hair, twelve and three quarter inches and rather springy, had seen him through good times and bad and had protected his very life on some occasions. Not the least of which was the absolute mess the school had been in the year before.

But that's a story for another day.

He watched as Jaegerjaques jumped onto the stage in the same way he did, disposing of his outer robe along the way so that he was just left in his white shirt that was unbuttoned at the neck, loose green and silver tie, and black pants, forgoing the regulation vest. Ichigo heard several girls in the audience sigh loudly.

Though the orangette couldn't exactly blame them. If you _could _look past the Merlin-awful personality that the Slytherin possessed, he was physically attractive.

Okay, so maybe that was an understatement, because maybe in his mind Ichigo could outright admit that Grimmjow Jaegerjaques looked like something out of a romance novel and a fairy tale at the same time. Sinfully sexy with a ridiculously arrogant smirk and yet somehow ethereally beautiful, his features perfect, like he was chiseled from marble. And that blue hair of his, turquoise in color and the perfect, subtle contrast to his deep cobalt eyes that looked like sapphires had been placed in his face instead of real eyes. There were rumours he had veela blood in him, and that he had the irresistible veela allure but had to use some sort of glamour in order to keep from boys and girls alike from going completely insane from his beauty. But those were just rumors, of course.

It was really too bad he held just about as much charm as a flobberworm with that arrogant, sadistic attitude of his that had Ichigo writhing with...well, _something _every time they so much as looked at one another.

As they were almost professionals, considering they had been in the Duelling Club ever since it had been revived, both Ichigo and Jaegerjaques took their places standing directly in front of each other. The Gryffindor felt a shiver run through his body as he stared the other down, chocolate toffee eyes boring directly into cyanic marine orbs. The other male was still wearing that insane grin that had to haunt children in their dreams (or horny teenagers, whichever) and it made Ichigo's stomach burst into butterflies and his knees started to quiver just slightly from pure nerves. He swore only the blue-haired bastard in front of him could ever make him feel this way.

Oh yes, Ichigo Kurosaki had been begging for this day to come for a very long time. The day he could fight Grimmjow Jaegerjaques and not get in trouble for it. And he was going to make sure that it was _spectacular. _

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><p>...<p>

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><p><strong>AN: **So...thoughts? A strange idea if there ever was one, I know, but I'd love to hear what you all think! I'm not exactly sure how long this will be and where I'll go with it, I just have some ideas and am kind of going with the flow for right now, but next chapter will be their duel and some Grimm POV. : )

Oh and Neville is two years younger in this story. I just had to have him with Shiro, they are perfect together in my eyes.

**This story will contain both Harry Potter and Bleach characters, but no plot points or shinigami or hollows from Bleach. This is strictly set in the Harry Potter world. It is also set in the school year after Voldemort's defeat. **

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><p><em>Tenshi <em>= Japanese equivalent of "angel."


	2. Ultramarine

_Chapter Two: Ultramarine_

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><p>In the entirety of his young life, Grimmjow Jaegerjaques has always had a way to get what he wanted. This was not solely because of the family he came from, the pureblooded Jaegerjaques line being an ancient lineage of noble status with more money than they could spend in several lifetimes and enough connections to those in power to ensure that they were far above the laws of the wizarding world.<p>

No, it was also due to his other side of the family, his mother's side, that had bestowed upon him the infamous beauty that had haunted many men's dreams from the time before even Merlin himself had walked the earth. And had also been the reason a good number of those men had gone insane with desire and, rejected, had taken their own lives, dramatic as that may seem. Such beauty was more of a curse than a blessing, but Grimmjow had used his sinfully good looks to his advantage in the rare instances when his surname and galleons failed him on his way to getting what he wanted.

Even when he had been a child, he hadn't been above manipulating his caretakers with adorable pouts that had whatever toy or piece of candy he had wanted in his hands within seconds. It hadn't been any harder when he had hit puberty. A wink, a smirk, a much-needed compliment reduced anyone to putty in his hands within seconds. He had never imagined that his charm could potentially backfire, or that it wouldn't work.

Of course the one thing he wanted most would seem completely impervious to Grimmjow's natural allure. Nothing was supposed to come between a veela and their intended, the one born to be their Mate, and yet, in his case, that person was absolutely oblivious to the true feelings that smoldered underneath the superficial layer of rivalry.

Yes, the rumors circulating the school were the truth. His mother was a full-blooded veela, his father a pureblood wizard, making him the first male veela-wizard hybrid in centuries. Though the vapid teenaged girls spreading the falsities that he wanted to Mate with them couldn't be farther from the truth, because Grimmjow had found his Mate a long time ago, before he had even set foot in the castle of Hogwarts in fact.

And when he had been gathered with his fellow house Duelling Club teammates on that morning he had seen Ichigo Kurosaki enter the Great Hall with a smug look that matched his own, making his heart throb in a way that would put even the most smitten of fanciful girls drooling over the latest pictorial in _Witch Weekly _to shame. But, what everyone saw was the Slytherin acknowledging his rival and that it wouldn't be too long before they came to blows once more. Only the blunette knew that wasn't the case at all, and that he had spent the last several minutes looking up towards the entrance way every few seconds, wondering when the other male would get there.

It was actually the second time that day as he had seen the sixth year beauty with hair the color of the sunset at breakfast earlier that day, just like he always did. He had watched the other boy surreptitiously for so long he could tell you the exact times Ichigo walked into the dining hall on the East side entrance for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. 8:56 a.m., 12:02 p.m., and 6:31 p.m. respectively. The orangette was ridiculously predictable when it came to daily things like that. Grimmjow knew that as well, like he knew that the other Hogwarts student always kept his wand in his left front pocket (typical Gryffindor, keeping it somewhere where someone could so easily snatch it) and left his History of Magic textbook in his common room when one of his friends didn't remind him to bring it and would rather drink just about anything instead of pumpkin juice and he had this incredibly enticing freckle right under his left eye that Grimmjow had only seen a handful of times and oh, how he wanted to touch that spot and...

Ahem, _anyway_, as you may be able to tell, the seventh year Slytherin knew a lot of things about Ichigo that he shouldn't have, considering they had been sworn enemies since the younger boy's first day, the day where everything had been royally screwed up and Grimmjow realized he was in for quite an experience with the other boy during his remaining years at Hogwarts (and so it had been.)

_And_ not to mention he was a Slytherin and Ichigo was a Gryffindor, the house where, despite their passionate war cries of equality and second chances and rebuilding after the War that past spring, treated him and his fellow housemates like they had all slaughtered a bunch of baby pygmy puffs and then had contracted the highly contagious Dragon Pox. They stayed their distance and sent them all looks of repulsion and anger, and there were those especially venomous glares that belonged to those that had lost someone in the war.

But he didn't really blame them, he mused to himself as he absentmindedly scratched at his left arm, covered up to his wrist by his school robes' sleeve. He would probably be the same way had he not been in Slytherin, had he not been exposed to the other side of the story, had he not had a father that was rotting away in Azkaban, due to his conviction of being a Death Eater.

He didn't think that Ichigo was like that, though. In fact, he knew the other student wasn't. The sixth year probably didn't trust Slytherins to some degree, even though his twin brother, the albino, was in the house in the same year, the year below Grimmjow, but that was a normal, human reaction to have, considering just how most of the serpent students had acted the school year prior, when the school had been run by Death Eaters.

Ichigo was just too nice to write someone off because of what house they were in, especially the younger ones that were so infatuated with him. And infatuated they certainly were.

The orange-haired boy just didn't realize what he did when he smiled warmly at a second year girl, that much was obvious, or else he wouldn't do it. He would surely be mortified if he knew that Grimmjow had heard a rumor that ever since the new school year had started, some of the female students had started up an Ichigo Fan Club.

Again, the blue-haired student couldn't blame them. If he could, he would pick up a few of the magical stickers they were sure to be handing out, but that would most certainly draw attention to himself, and he was supposed to be keeping a low profile (not that he was exactly succeeding at that.)

He remembered he had been the star of a fan club himself when he had been in his fifth year. He smiled broadly at the memory of the younger Slytherin girls all sporting his face and name on enchanted buttons that had apparently released mist that smelled like him and was charmed to play a recording of his famous barking laugh. His ego purred as he reminisced about all of the other students, male and female, that had been at his beck and call, unsure of why they had been so entranced by the blunette. With his family's pureblood status, money, and the devastatingly good looks inherited from his mother, Grimmjow had been a true prince of Slytherin.

That had been before sixth year had begun and he had come back a changed person, that summer holding memories of things he would much rather forget all about. That had been before he, a sixteen-year old boy, had been forced make what was sure to remain the most difficult decision of his life. That year, everything had changed and instead of shooting cocky grins to those in his presence, he glared fiercely, his inner turmoil making his cobalt eyes look wild, like his tenuous grasp on his self-control would snap at any moment. The school hadn't been a reprieve from the madness going on, it had been utter hell.

Even as Grimmjow's mind went down that dark path, a vicious migraine forming as he roughly pushed those awful memories to the back of his mind, his facial expression of smug arrogance never wilting as he reclined against the stone wall behind him. He had long since mastered letting his face become a mask to hide his emotions, being raised in an ancient pureblood family of noble status. It was completely at war with the other side of him, the veela one that demanded he listen to his instinct instead of duty, the one he had been fighting ever since he could remember as it pushed him to do things that would surely only end up in utter chaos.

But just as quickly at it had come, the pain started to dull, because Ichigo Kurosaki was glaring at him from across the hall before heading to where his twin brother and another Gryffindor were standing together by the platform. The blunette shot a wink to the boy with the sunset-colored hair, but obviously the other decided to ignore it, choosing to be too noble to join in on the customary jeers and taunts and then outright insults that usually preceded their fights, be they magical or physical.

It disappointed Grimmjow immensely and he fought the urge to pout like a petulant child, instead crossing his arms over the school robes he so abhorred as they completely hid his sculpted torso and chest. But don't judge him, it was in his nature, his very genes to be vain, on both sides of his family. Plus, they were terribly itchy, and it was still too warm for the woolen fabric, only being the beginning of October.

"So, Grimmjow, you'll never guess what I heard," a lilting voice said to his right. Tearing his gaze away from where Ichigo was chatting with his white copy and the brunette, he looked to where one of his oldest friends and fellow seventh-year Slytherin, Szayel Aporrogranz was giving him a knowing glance through his white-framed glasses (purely for cosmetic reasons as his pureblooded, sinfully rich parents had long since paid for his eyes to be enchanted with perfect vision.) He was one of the fortunate ones, both parents alive and not incarcerated, though under a heavy Auror investigation.

"What?" Grimmjow entertained his friend, though he really was not interested in the pink-haired boy's daily gossip update. He didn't really care about who was fingering who under the house table at breakfast as long as they didn't touch his food afterwards. His cyan gaze traveled back over to a head of warm tangerine hair almost subconsciously, causing the effeminate Slytherin beside him to cough in a passive-aggressive way of garnering his attention.

"It's about the more colorful Kurosaki over there, so I just thought you may be interested," he sighed, sticking out one hand in front of him in order to casually inspect his nails. The name instinctively sent a surge of excitement through Grimmjow's body and he turned to stare down at his friend suspiciously.

"And what would that be?" he asked, succeeding in not sounding too eager, the mask of the pureblood in place.

"Well," Szayel lowered his hand, turning his head to look up at Grimmjow with all-knowing amber eyes. "I happened to hear that you are no longer the only sixth year to be appointed Duelling Club captain."

A wide grin parted the blunette's lips as he realized just what his fellow Slytherin had just revealed, the thrill of excitement from before returning tenfold and his aquamarine gaze flitted away and back to where that bright head of sunset tangerine hair was over a prettily scowling face. And to anyone who didn't understand veela nature, the swell of pride the teenager felt would have seemed completely inappropriate. But it wasn't, not at all.

"Is that so?" he murmured more to himself than to Szayel, but the pink-haired student took it upon himself to answer anyway.

"Yes, apparently Kurosaki is quite skilled," he said, his voice growing a tad softer, sober almost as he continued on. "As I'm sure you're aware, he defeated Dolohov singlehandedly."

"I'm aware," Grimmjow replied tersely, his tone one that stated clearly he had no wish to travel down that dark road and there was a brief moment of silence before a sudden _pop _close to the sound of apparation captured the attention of every student in the Great Hall, including his as his eyes snapped to see a figure in green robes carrying a cane and a fan in either hand.

Professor Urahara was new that year and imported from a different country that was not so recently scarred by war as this one. Apparently a lot of the new professors had come from the wizarding city in Japan, the new headmistress having to recruit from so far away as to find those brave and willing enough to teach at a school that was still in critical condition from its recent trauma. Even the head of Slytherin House was foreign, and though he was as pureblooded and noble as they came, it was completely unheard of. However, Grimmjow had already gathered that the DADA professor and new head of Gryffindor house was highly knowledgeable (for being able to magically transport one's self inside of Hogwarts was no easy task) and a just a _tad _bit eccentric.

"Hello, young pupils," he greeted, a close-lipped small smile on his pleasant expression. "Welcome to the first meeting of the Duelling Club."

The seventh-year unintentionally zoned out a little after that. Even if the professor was new that year, it was always the same speech, and he would much rather spend that time looking at a certain orangette from across the platform. He could have jumped for joy when Ichigo looked straight at him when his name was announced as the new Gryffindor team captain had it not seemed like he had finally snapped and gone completely batshit insane. It wasn't that Grimmjow cared much about what anyone thought, he just preferred not spending his evening in the hospital wing trying to convince Madame Pomfrey that he was fine and that _no_, he didn't need to 'talk about it'.

A sudden sharp jab to his side had him looking down to see Szayel was the one whom had elbowed him in an effort to snap him out of his thoughts. Frowning, he followed the pink haired boy's line of sight to where Professor Urahara had stopped talking and was looking at him expectantly, Ichigo forgoing the stairs and pulling himself atop the platform beside the man. Grimmjow's face immediately lit up with a grin as electric and bright as lightning, leaving his place among the Slytherin students and practically jumping on top of the platform and ripping the outer robes he so hated right off his body.

Though he did make sure to not roll up his sleeves as he was wont to do.

With one quick motion, he drew his wand from the inside of his right shirt sleeve, where he had kept it ever since he had first had it made by Gregorovitch blunette would even venture to say that he had a closer bond to his wand than most, being that it was hawthorn, thirteen and a quarter inches, quite rigid, and contained his very own strand of hair at its core, that being the reason he had had the wand made by the Eastern European, seeing as how Ollivander wouldn't deal with veela hair cores, saying they were too...what's the word? Oh yes, _temperamental_.

He certainly did feel that way when he was around Ichigo, the veela blood in him humming in pleasure at the presence of the one intended for him, bringing out sides to him he didn't even know existed. It called to him to dominate the other male, make him entirely _his_, but also to show his affections in ways that were entirely too saccharine for his liking, too much like the ridiculous, smutty novels some of the girls (and boys) in the school hid behind their copies of _Hogwarts: A History_.

Being around the beyond beautiful sixth year was a kind of sweet torture, having something he so wanted dangled in front of him, like a person does with their pet and their favorite toy, only to know he couldn't have it. Not yet, anyway.

"Take your positions," Professor Urahara ordered nonchalantly, a trace of amusement in his voice. Grimmjow's smirk never faltered as he walked slowly toward the younger boy until they were about ten feet apart. His senses, both human and veela sharpened at the proximity to Ichigo. He could faintly smell the ambrosial perfume the orangette exuded, the scent of driftwood and peaches and maple syrup and ginger, like sweet summer, and the Slytherin had to contain himself from purring aloud as their gazes locked just as they had thousands of times before this, hot chocolate brown and deepest ocean blue.

Ichigo's eyes were practically burning with determination as they bowed to one another, wands at their sides, and it excited Grimmjow beyond what even he thought was possible. Yes, there was a very distinctive part of him that wanted to get the other boy to submit to him, make the Gryffindor lay flat on his back for him, but there was a slightly bigger part that wanted Ichigo to beat him, solely because he felt that seeing the orangette happy would far outweigh his own discomfort at losing. Needless to say, _that _was a very strange thought for the seventh year to have.

"Stop looking at me like that, Kurosaki, you're turning me on," he said under his breath, his pleasure at teasing Ichigo clear in his tone, the smirk on his face putting all Slytherins before him to shame and _that _was certainly saying something.

It only grew even more smug as the other male's eyes widened and a rose pink stained his cheekbones heavily, obviously too stunned at Grimmjow's provocation to even think of something to say in retort. This made the latter chuckle, bemused, as he retreated the traditional ten steps backwards, twirling his wand in his fingers as Ichigo got over his shocked embarrassment and his customary scowl returned. Grimmjow could tell that the other was going to give this duel everything he had and while he himself had for the most part resigned himself to losing as he didn't think he would be able to cast any spells that could potentially harm Ichigo, that didn't mean he was going to make it easy.

"Begin," Urahara said simply before disappearing from the platform to appear among the crowd of students, whom all gasped at his sudden appearance.

Grimmjow barely had time to dodge the shower of red sparks aimed for his head. In fact, if it hadn't been for his own experiences in the kind of duelling where one fears for their very life, he might not have had the reflexes to sidestep the stunning spell Ichigo had cast with alarming speed. Despite himself, he smiled maniacally before dodging another, raising a _Protego _shield with a flick of his wand and muttered incantation just in time to deflect the several _Stupefy_'s sent his way.

He dropped the shield just as it started to crack under the constant assault, the purple glow fading to reveal an already panting Ichigo. It was obvious the orangette had been too eager to make a fool of Grimmjow and stun him within the first few seconds of the duel and he had expended a good amount of energy just then. But the blue-haired seventh year knew that the Gryffindor could still put up a hell of a fight, and that was just the way he wanted it.

"_Stupefy_," he said quietly, feeling his wizard magic well up in within him. "_Rictusempra_." The two spells, crimson and silver, flew from the tip of his hawthorn wand, perfectly timed so that they were just the right amount of space apart. As planned, Ichigo only had time to block the first one and so the second charm hit him square in the chest, only a moment passing before he doubled over, holding his stomach as uncontrollable laughter racked his body.

"Ahaha...stu-haha, stupe-hahaha," the orangette raised his wand in an effort to cast another spell, but couldn't get the incantation out fully without laughing, causing Grimmjow to laugh loudly in turn, his barking laughter sounding mocking enough to spur Ichigo into action, as he was able to mutter the countercurse under his breath and stand up straight, no amusement to be seen in his stormy expression whatsoever.

"_Stupefy_! _Incarcerous_," The sixth year projected resolutely, the well-used and familiar rain of red spark blasted forth from his wand, Grimmjow's eyes widening at the sight. Never had he seen such force behind a spell except from some of the most powerful wizards he knew to exist, all of which were now dead.

Using the knowledge he had of wordless magic, the blunette forewent constructing a shield and instead gathered up his internal magic and sent his own potent stunning spell to collide with Ichigo's. It wasn't as powerful, but it was still impressive and enough to successfully deflect the stunner that surely would have rendered him unconscious for hours had he been hit with it. However, Grimmjow was not able to stop the other bout of magic from capturing him with its strong ropes of the Gryffindor's magic, iridescent and pulsing as they wrapped around his torso, binding his hands to his sides as he fell to his knees, completely unable to move.

He lifted his ultramarine eyes to see Ichigo, looking very smug indeed as those cocoa brown eyes looked down at him. Everyone knew that while wordless magic was difficult, but possible, as Grimmjow had just demonstrated, but wandless magic was downright unheard of once a wizard learned to use a wand properly, and so the Slytherin had no way of getting out of the ropes. Or so they thought.

You see, Grimmjow knew Ichigo thought he had won already because he assumed that the blunette was completely of wizard lineage, which he certainly wasn't. He was half-veela, and the thing about veelas is that they are creatures capable of their own magic that doesn't require wand-waving or incantations. No, they are able to use advanced elemental magic that even the most powerful wizard couldn't hope to learn and that Grimmjow had long since mastered.

Oh yes, he knew that Ichigo would eventually win this duel, but he wasn't going down just like _that_.

Ever so slightly flicking his wrist of the hand that wasn't still maintaining a firm grip on his wand, he felt the more instinctual, rawer side of himself flare up within him, power and ancient magic flowing in his veins, and he saw the shock in the sixth year's eyes as a decently sized orb of fire appeared in the palm of that hand, the flames licking at his fingers.

Grimmjow certainly hadn't intended on throwing the fireball at Ichigo, he'd only meant to set the ropes he was imprisoned by on fire so that they would disintegrate and he would be free to duel once more. And he certainly hadn't expected for the other boy to so obviously panic at the sight of the fire, eyes wide with what could only be terror. But before he could do anything, Ichigo was raising his wand in reflexive defense, slashing it across the air without uttering an incantation and releasing a wave of pure magic, wild and destructive.

The half-veela's instinctive reaction was to release his fire in an effort to deflect some of that unrefined magic, but as it turned out, that was a very bad idea. As the two forms of pure, aural magic came to impact, there was a significant reaction that turned into an explosion of the magical energy that shook the Great Hall itself. The blast sent vehemently waves that sent him flying several feet into the air before he collided with the platform forcefully, the ropes still binding him keeping the teenager from protecting his head as it bashed against the hard surface.

His vision blurring, Grimmjow strained to see around him, fighting the encroaching blackness. Only one thing was on his mind and that was whether or not Ichigo was okay, he _had _to know. Every bit of veela blood in him burned in protest as his eyes failed him, not being able to see far enough to where the boy, the one meant to be his Mate, was. He groaned in agony before succumbing to unconsciousness.

* * *

><p><em>Everything was dark, except for that one spot on top of the hill, where something burned so brazenly bright, Ichigo had to struggle to keep his eyes on it. It didn't help that they were full of unwanted tears, or that his mouth was clasped to his mouth to keep from crying out. <em>

_He couldn't make any noise, or they would be found._

_A comforting hand just as small as his own, a child's hand, entangled itself in his soft, orange hair. Ichigo knew the action soothed his brother just as much as it did him, which was not much at all. For what could comfort a nine year-old child as they watched their home burn to the ground?_

_Especially when they knew their mother was still inside. Or at least, her body still was. _

_He and his twin brother were up in the treehouse their father had built for them two years before then, staring out of the crudely cut window at the group of figures that emerged from the burning structure, completely unharmed from the terrible flames that consumed everything Ichigo had ever loved. _

_He could see, even from that far away, the distinctive shape of a man with a turban on his head talking to another man in dark clothing whom had pulled away the mask they were all wearing to reveal features twisted in sadistic pleasure, dark hair and beady eyes visible by the brightness of the fire. Ichigo would remember that face for the rest of his life. _

_A small whimper escaped his lips as they quivered behind his palm. _

"_Shh, Ichi," his brother whispered as softly as he could. The young boy turned to his twin brother, the other boy's pale as snow features practically glowing in the dark of the night. It made him feel a bit better, knowing that he had Shiro right there with him, and that it would only be a matter of time before his father came for them. _

"_Shiro, do you think-" Ichigo began to question, but his twin cut him off. He always knew what the orangette was thinking._

"_She's gone," was all he said._

_She's gone, Ichigo thought to himself, still somewhat unable to comprehend the concept at his young age. _

_She's gone. His mother was gone. _Dead. _And it was all because of those two men, the man with the dark hair and the beady eyes, the man that even at nine years old, silently crying, he vowed to enact his vengeance upon, even if that meant killing him._

* * *

><p><em>Ichigo pressed his back against the stone wall, panting heavily and clutching his wand like his life depended on it. His life <em>did _depend on it, because he was in the middle of an outright war, and completely alone. _

_That was okay with him, though. He needed to do this by himself, needed to do the thing he'd been vowing to do for six years without anyone else's help, or with anyone trying to convince him not to. _

_The man that had killed his mother was not fifty feet away from him, just around in the corner, in the Great Hall. Where he had once ate and drank with his friends and had some of the happiest memories of his life was the man that had murdered his mother. _

_Taking a deep, shaky breath, he turned the corner and saw him, the man he was determined to kill. Antonin Dolohov._

_Those beady, dark eyes seemed to know that Ichigo was there, there to challenge him and they swiveled over to meet determined fawn brown, the ensuing sadistic smile every bit as twisted and ugly as the teenager remembered. His mind started flickering with the images of that night._

_The burning house, the screams, his brother's scared eyes, the sounds of his own crying, the fire, the flames, the scorching heat. She's gone, his mother is gone, dead, she's dead._

* * *

><p>He knew he was dreaming now, reliving his very worst memories in sleep. But that's the worst part, Ichigo thinks, is when you realize you're dreaming, but you can't wake up. You try so desperately to wake up, but your whole body feels so heavy and like you're fighting just to open your eyes.<p>

"Ichigo."

He felt a hand over his then, warm, and he could feel the strength of its owner just from that simple touch. The voice was ravishing, deep and soothing, but unfamiliar to him. And yet it sounded, felt, like home, like he's always known it. It pulled at something deep inside of him, and Ichigo found himself rising through the heaviness of slumber easily.

But when his eyes snapped open to reveal the bright light of the Hospital Wing, no one wass there. Well, at least right by his bedside anyway, as he almost immediately spotted a head of blue hair across from him and just as suddenly a frown replaced his serene expression upon seeing the sleeping form of Grimmjow Jaegerjaques.

Though, perhaps he could say, that _maybe_ the blunette didn't look half-bad when he wasn't smirking or glaring as he was so apt to do, especially the latter as of late.

"Ah, you're up, Mr. Kurosaki," Madame Pomfrey's voice greets him as the older witch walks into the large room with a tray full of potions that Ichigo can already tell are going to taste positively vile. His frown deepened as the school nurse placed the tray on his bedside table. "It's about time. You've been out for about a day or so."

"A _day_?" Ichigo exclaimed, his voice hoarse from disuse.

"Oh yes, you and Mr. Jaegerjaques were both knocked unconscious from that explosion in the Great Hall." As she spoke, Pomfrey looked over to where the latter was slumbering away, tutting as she shook her head. "You would think that after a day of being unconscious, the boy wouldn't go back to sleep as soon as I leave the room..." she trailed off, sighing, before moving to pick up the smallest vial of potion and proffering it to Ichigo.

"Here, drink this. You broke your wrist when you were thrown back by the explosion and I mended it in a pinch, but it should still be a little sore."

The orangette took the potion, swallowing it as quickly as he could, rolling around his right wrist and finding that it was indeed sore. After grimacing at both the potion's taste and the fact that that wrist belonged to his wand hand, he placed the vial back onto Pomfrey's tray. He almost immediately felt a little bit more alert and pushed himself up so that he was sitting straight without the support of the bed or the pillows.

"Ah, and I should probably tell you that the Headmistress is here to talk to the both of you. I'll go tell her to come in. Surely Mr. Jaegerjaques will wake up _then_," Madame Pomfrey giggled a little bit before picking up her tray and heading towards her office, where the Headmistress was probably waiting for her okay.

Ichigo's stomach churned at the thought of the Headmistress would have to say to the both of them. How could he convince her that he was entirely innocent of any wrongdoing? It hadn't been him that had conjured a bloody _fireball _in his hand, like that was something _normal_. Who could do that, anyway? He groaned, closing his eyes as he placed his head in his hands.

"I suppose you're in the right place if you're ill, Mr. Kurosaki."

His head snapped up to see Minerva McGonagall standing not ten feet away from him, her hair in its eternally tight bun and her dark green eyes severe as she frowned down at the sixth year, wand in her hand as she tapped it against her palm.

"Headmistress," Ichigo greeted, gulping audibly right after. He had been through three headmasters of the school in his life, and he could definitely say that he was most afraid of the one standing right in front of him. McGonagall only nodded once before turning and walking to the other male's bedside.

"For Merlin's sake, wake _up_, Mr. Jaegerjaques," she said, giving the blunette a firm _thwack _across the bridge of his nose. The look on Jaegerjaques' face when he woke up to _that _had Ichigo biting his lip so hard he drew blood in an effort not to laugh. The Slytherin only grunted in response, sapphire eyes screaming bloody murder as he sat up, looking very strange in the pyjamas they had both been changed into.

"Headmistress," Jaegerjaques greeted identically to Ichigo. McGonagall didn't respond to that, instead jumping straight into her lecture, which didn't surprise Ichigo in the least bit.

"I assume you both know why I am here as your foolish, reckless, and downright dangerous acts cannot go unpunished."

Ichigo held his tongue so that he didn't defend himself, saying that he had only been protecting himself from a freaking fireball, which was the _truth_.

"Furthermore, I am extremely disappointed in you both," McGonagall's tone softened, her eyes downcast as they glazed over with what Ichigo assumed were the memories of the past school year, of the spring, of the war. "We are in the process of rebuilding, trying to restore order to our school, and you continue with this nonsensical rivalry. I cannot imagine how you find it still so important after what happened to the both of you this past spring."

The Gryffindor looked over to where Jaegerjaques was staring at the sheets on his bed like they were the most interesting thing in the world. What could have possibly happened to him in the second war?

"In light of the danger you placed yourselves and the other students in, I am awarding the two of you detention until the holiday break, to be served together in an effort that you both will learn to cooperate with each other."

Ichigo's jaw must have hit the floor at that point. Surely the Headmistress couldn't be _that _cruel?

"I have spoken with both of your heads of house and they agree with me that this a fit punishment. You will serve detention everyday with them, alternating weeks."

"Every_day_?" the sixth year gasped at the horror of his situation.

"Did I stutter, Mr. Kurosaki? Yes, every_day_. Now, hurry up and get to class, your first session with Professor Urahara will be tomorrow evening," McGonagall informed them brusquely before stiffly heading out of the Hospital Wing while Ichigo's mouth still gaped like a grindylow out of water. So stunned was he, that he turned to the blue-haired seventh year across from him, only to find that his expression was not mirrored, but instead Jaegerjaques was grinning at him. _Again_.

He didn't know why McGonagall was even bothering to try and get them to "cooperate" with each other. He _loathed _Grimmjow Jaegerjaques and there was no way he could ever get along with such an arrogant, blue-haired, fireball-conjuring, grinning son of a banshee.

No, it would just simply never happen.

* * *

><p>AN: I apologize for this taking so long! It would've been out sooner but something came up, hope you understand. :)

If the flashback/dream seemed vague to you, don't worry, all will be explained much more thoroughly in upcoming chapters. I'm so sorry, I'm not very good at them. T^T

And thank you, thank you for all the kind reviews and favorites/alerts! I didn't expect this story to garner that much attention considering it's a crossover. But they just about made my whole life. :3


	3. Rose Quartz

**Beta'ed by ArisuAmiChan**

_Chapter Three: Rose Quartz_

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><p><em>"War does not determine who is right - only who is left."<em>

* * *

><p>As soon as Ichigo had left the hospital wing (after changing into his school uniform as far away from Jaegerjaques as he could get) he was almost immediately accosted by a very pissed-off albino. Shaking a finger in his twin's face, and a hand on his hip, the Gryffindor's twin brother looked every bit a miffed mother hen, something that didn't suit him well at all, and it may have been funny for Ichigo if he wasn't the one getting yelled at.<p>

"Ichigo, have ya gone completely mental?" Shiro chastised him in the corridor outside of the hospital wing, pointing a pale finger in the orangette's face. " Ya could've killed yerself, throwin' around pure magic like it's nothin'! It's like yer just askin' for me to put ya over my knee and give ya a good spanking."

"Shiro!" the Gryffindor exclaimed, very glad then that his twin was ranting to him in Japanese as his entire face flushed a deep cerise, for if any one of the students wondering the halls now had heard that he may have just choked Shiro to death with the green and silver tie around his neck and then flung his body off of the Astronomy tower, and he would have _laughed_ because it was only fair that the Slytherin meet such a fate for embarrassing him so. Because what person in their right mind talks about _spanking _their sixteen year-old twin brother in public, really?

The only thing that was saving Shiro now was the fact that he had brought Ichigo's messenger bag full of school books and parchment along with him.

"Wha'? No one understands us here," Shiro waved him off nonchalantly, obviously not bothered by his own words as he _had _been talking to Ichigo like this since they were old enough to talk. Switching back to English, he grabbed the other male's slender wrist and pulled him down the hallway. "C'mon, ya have Transfiguration in five minutes."

Sighing, the orangette allowed himself to be fairly dragged down the stone corridor and past several curious glances the pair got as they made their way through the castle. There was no use arguing that he really didn't want to go to that particular class at the moment, as the white-haired boy's protective side would appear and would demand to know why Ichigo didn't want to attend Transfiguration. And that would just not turn out well at all.

Once Shiro had tugged him through five different corridors and down three moving staircases, during which a portrait of an elderly witch had yelled at them to slow down, they came to a stop in front of a classroom with students still filing in. Huffing and puffing, Ichigo was relieved to see that he wasn't late, again. Merlin knows what the professor would do to him this time around, and he already had detention until the end of the bloody year.

"Well, be good, Ichi. I'm headin' off now," his twin brother announced, grinning somewhat maniacally whilst patting him on the head. Slapping Shiro's hand away from his head, Ichigo scowled.

"But you're in this class, too!"

"So?" Shiro cackled before saluting the sixth year Gryffindor. "See ya." And then he was gone, running down the hallway and 'accidentally' knocking some second years over when turning the corner before his sibling could beg to take him along, and Ichigo _knew _he could have gotten Shiro to agree if he had put on his kicked puppy face.

Coffee brown eyes narrowed, Ichigo turned to the classroom and readjusted the school bag on his shoulder. It was when he scanned his fellow house members that he noticed a certain brunette was missing and grimaced, now understanding why his brother had decided to ditch class that day. But how had Shiro managed to convince Neville...?

Ichigo cursed his ability to blush so easily when crimson stained his cheekbones seemingly unwarranted as he took his seat at an empty table near the back of the classroom. Now he wasn't particularly antisocial, if that's what you're thinking, he just tended to keep to himself until someone came up to him and started talking first. And as he started to take out his Transfiguration textbook, parchment, and quill from his bag, he felt rather than heard someone sitting down next to him.

Rather suddenly, there was a familiar tightening in his chest and the boy rubbed the skin over his sternum, forcing himself to take a deep breath. And when he looked over, Ichigo was not surprised at all to see that it was not one of his fellow Gryffindors sitting by his side, but rather a Slytherin. Quite a persistent Slytherin, at that.

"Hello, Ichigo," Koga Kuchiki greeted, a distant smirk on his pulchritudinous face. The orangette was sure that many other students found Koga, whom was in the same house and year as his brother, attractive with his impassive, aqua green eyes and ragged dark hair, but to Ichigo he was just the teenaged boy that had been harassing him incessantly for the past month, ever since they had come back to school the first of September.

Quite odd, really, considering the other sixth year hadn't so much as spared a glance his way before the semester had started just over a month ago.

"Koga, I'm really not in the mood," Ichigo muttered sullenly, now really cursing Shiro for ditching class that day, as his albino twin always managed to scare the other sixth year away with his positively insane grin and suggestive 'go away or I will seriously pummel you into oblivion' manner.

And yet, no matter how many times Shiro had ever so subtly implied that Koga leave his brother alone, the brunette just kept coming back and Ichigo was at a complete loss. He had made it clear he was uninterested in the other's advances, extremely clear, as in the last time they had spoken, he had threatened to Bat Bogey hex the other male if he ever talked to him again.

And yet Koga still didn't get the picture.

"Yes, I heard of the dueling fiasco you were involved in yesterday morning. I hope they expelled that brute, Jaegerjaques. He's a complete disgrace, especially with his father now being in Azkaban," Koga sighed, his hand inching closer to Ichigo's on the table and the Gryffindor felt a vein start to tick in his temple. Honestly, what made the other think that he would ever be interested in him in that way? And he certainly wasn't one to judge who and who wasn't a 'disgrace.'

But, though Ichigo had known that Jaegerjaques Senior hadn't been on the straight and narrow and there had been rumors of him being a Death Eater, he wasn't aware that the man had been convicted and sentenced to prison time. Suddenly he found himself wondering if Jaegerjaques' mother was still around, or if he was alone, and then stopped just as suddenly, because he didn't _care_...right?

"That's not what I'm talking about," he snapped, clenching the hand that lay on the table into a fist, hoping the fact that he did not want to be touched was clear. The orangette knew he really couldn't handle being touched at that moment, not when the memory of yesterday's duel and the absence of Shiro was so clear to him. Not when he could still see that bright orb of flame and his brother wasn't there to tell him everything was going to be okay.

"Oh, is something else bothering you, then? You know, I always found drinking a nice bottle of firewhiskey in the boathouse to be good at relieving stress, with the right company, of course," Koga's voice was so lewd, even when he spoke in that ridiculous pureblood manner, that Ichigo felt his chest start to ache so much that he had to pinch his thigh in order to take his mind off of it.

One day getting into a duel where his rival had managed to conjure..._that_ and then the next getting sentenced to detention until the holiday break with the insufferable bastard known as Grimmjow Jaegerjaques, and then being harassed by another insufferable bastard. It was just too much, really, and Ichigo was wondering if he had any luck at all.

"Sounds lovely," Ichigo said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "In fact, why don't you go do that right now, and then afterwards you can jump off the Quidditch stands?"

The sudden sound of someone clearing their throat behind them stopped Koga's response to that and both he and Ichigo turned to see a tall boy behind them, instantly recognizing the pale skin and sickly dark circles underneath light eyes and mussed head of chestnut brown hair.

"I saved you a seat, Koga," Muramasa said in his raspy, cold voice, gesturing to a table across the room that was empty save for the boy's own schoolbag. Ichigo's brow furrowed as those pale eyes seemed to say something with a much deeper meaning and he looked back to his textbook, flipping it open and pointedly ignoring the two of them, hoping that Koga would get the message. Surely he would move from his seat to the one his apparently closest friend had saved for him.

He could have sighed in relief when he heard the rustle of the Slytherin's robes as he stood and gathered his things.

"I hope to talk to you soon, Ichigo," Koga said to the back of the orangette boy's head, and then walked away with his fellow house member to the other side of the room. Ichigo felt Muramasa's icy glare on him and cornered his gaze to see that the Slytherin was practically oozing hate and jealousy. And he wished he could explain to the brunette that he could _have _Koga as Ichigo certainly didn't want him.

As the door opened to reveal a dark-skinned woman with dark aubergine hair tied up into a pony tail and a cat-like grin, Ichigo sighed in relief for the distraction.

Professor Yoruichi Shihōin was new that year, as McGonagall had resigned from Transfiguration due to her being promoted as Headmistress of the school. It was funny, how all of the new professors that year had come from Japan, but apparently some wizarding school over there had just closed and the instructors had found themselves out of work. The teenager didn't mind, of course, as he rather liked the new professors. Well, except for the Potions Master.

However, all of his pleasant thoughts fell right out of his head as he saw that the Transfiguration professor was wearing glowing _orange _robes.

Ironic as it may seem, Ichigo _really _hated that color.

"Good morning, class." She smiled brightly, her golden eyes twinkling mischievously as they swept across the sixth year students. The boy with the sunset colored hair purposefully avoided catching her gaze and her subsequent attention by playing absentmindedly with his feathered quill, for Professor Shihōin had a certain...fondness for him. That and he wanted to look anywhere else but her neon, glaring, blazing orange robes.

But he had no such luck, because, as you may have noticed, Ichigo had no luck at all.

"Can anyone tell me the theory of the process of transfiguring metals and how this could potentially affect the time lapse of any such spell? Kurosaki?"

Thanking Merlin he had done the assigned reading two days early, Ichigo breathed in deeply, letting the air out through pursed lips and hoping desperately no one noticed his less than normal behavior.

It was going to be a long day.

* * *

><p>When Transfiguration was over and Professor Shihōin had handed out enough homework to last them a lifetime, Ichigo couldn't leave the classroom fast enough. He fairly ran out of there, past where Koga and Muramasa were still sitting together and pretending he didn't hear the former and someone else call his name as he rushed out of the room and down the corridor.<p>

He took the steps three at a time and didn't stop running until he was high up in one of the castle's unused turrets, right by one of those towering, narrow windows that allowed him to see the grounds of Hogwarts, all covered with the telltale signs of fall, color changing leaves and all. This was his favorite time of year, there was so much to look forward to. Especially now that the entire wizarding community could live in relative peace, free from the threat of a powerful madman and his minions. This was what he had been fighting for, and yet...

Something was missing, the something that would make him forget all of the damage that had yet to heal. On the outside, everything was as it should be. He was physically unmarred, but the extent of his internal scarring scared him sometimes, like when he could feel a phantom burning pain at the most random of times, like right now.

Everyone else had that thing that grounded them to the earth, that reminded them that everything was fine now, that life's horrors were in the past and that he was safe and that he wasn't alone. Yes, he had Shiro, but sometimes his brother wasn't enough, he needed something..._more_.

Ichigo slid down to the ground, a hand clutching the front of his robes. His chest felt like it was too tight, like a steel band was around his lungs, and he couldn't get enough air. It was blazing with an intense pain, like...like it was on fire.

Images of burning flames flashed before his eyes, old fires that burned his childhood home to the ground and unnaturally colored beams of heat that slashed across his chest and caused him pain so intense, he crumpled to the floor and convulsed. And then the newest memory of a harmless orb that hadn't even been within ten feet of him, the one that had unjustly terrified him and sent him into a panic, making him look like a pathetic weakling in front of everyone in the Great Hall.

It was several minutes before he was able to stabilize his breathing enough that he could stand once again, but forcing his lungs to take in as much as air as possible could not dispel the sudden wave of nausea that washed over him, and as soon as he was back on his feet he opened that tall, narrow window via its small latch and was immediately sick, losing the contents of his breakfast over the side of the sky high turret.

Once he was done, he wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his robe and leaned against the stone wall, grateful for the cool touch on his flushed face. He took long, shaky breaths and when he was finally able to regain his composure, he pushed himself off of the wall, picking up his school bag and rushing down the steps to head to lunch in the Great Hall. No one would know that everything in his world wasn't perfect.

* * *

><p>Later on that day, after double period Charms, Grimmjow was in a relatively sour mood, that being his least favorite and worst subject (he swore the minutely sized Professor Flitwick had only taken him into the N.E.W.T. class because he pitied him and felt indebted to him for what had happened the previous school year.) Combine that with his chest giving little twinges of stinging pain every now and then, like the beginnings of a bad case of heartburn, and the only thing that kept him from the little fact that he was going to be spending every night until the holiday break with a certain adorable orangette out of his head. The veela blood in him purred in content at the thought, loving the idea of being guaranteed close contact with his intended Mate, and the pain in his chest died down a little.<p>

He moved through the corridors at a swift walk, walking down several flights of stairs to the dungeons, where the Slytherin Common Room was located at the end of a dark hallway lit only by forever burning torches. They gave the place a rather ominous feeling, which was only furthered by the eerie silence and emptiness filling the hallway. Two years ago this place would have been filled with students, laughing and chattering about with their friends, most of them not having a care in the world, for they thought that to be a pureblood and as wealthy as they were meant never having to suffer injustice, or pain.

They had been so wrong.

Grimmjow approached the portrait of an ancient wizarding noblewoman, a new addition in order to protect the students that much more. Before there had just been a stone wall, but the entrance had been changed in order to accommodate the portrait of the silver-haired, beautiful woman dressed in a pale lavender gown.

"Password," she demanded in an impassive voice.

"_Patientiam_."

The portrait swung open without further ado, revealing the dark passageway to the Common Room that Grimmjow immediately stepped through and then into the quiet and somewhat lifeless circular room where most, if not all, of the Slytherin students had gathered for the evening. Until they had to go to the Great Hall for dinner and face the other Houses, that is.

If this had been two years past, they would have been wandering the halls, studying in the library, lounging by the Great Lake, but now they were all huddled on the low-backed, ebony couches. All of them were able to fit in this room as their numbers had diminished greatly, because some students had remained at home that year with their concerned or damaged families. Some of the older students were under house arrest or imprisoned. Some of them were missing completely, whether by choice or misfortune.

The blunette's sapphire eyes traveled to the seat by the false windows that were back-lit with a green glow, where there used to be a group of five boys that would sit for hours, practically holding court in the Common Room. But now, the space looked so empty with only a pink-haired sixth year sitting there, reading a book.

It looked so empty because some of the students weren't at home, incarcerated, or missing. Some of them were dead.

Bad mood now furthered by old memories, he scratched his left forearm through the thin material of his school shirt and made his way over to the window seat to sit next to Szayel, whom looked up from his book to give the blue-haired teenager a small, knowing smile.

"So, dare I ask what your punishment for nearly destroying the Great Hall and injuring another student is?" he asked, turning the corner of a page to mark his place before setting the book down, his all-knowing eyes twinkling with bemusement.

Grimmjow gave a long suffering sigh, his eyes tightening as the "injuring another student" part caused him to remember that it was his own foolish action that had sent the boy meant to be his beloved flying into the air, knocked unconscious by the fall and breaking his wrist. Strange as it may seem, as he had never had a proper conversation with Ichigo Kurosaki, it hurt Grimmjow's very soul that he had inflicted pain on the orangette. And he would go into the Great Lake and wrestle with the Giant Squid if it meant that Ichigo could someday forgive him.

"Detention everyday until the holiday break," he answered after a moment, looking down at his lap unseeingly.

"Hmm, for some reason you don't look so upset by the punishment. May I assume that could be because you detention is..._shared _with a certain very pretty Gryffindor?" Szayel teased in his simpering tone, coquettishly muffling his ensuing giggle behind an elegant hand when Grimmjow's dazed, lovesick grin and starry eyes answered the question for him.

The blunette knew that Szayel was aware that he held some type of attraction for Ichigo, but that the pink-haired male, even with his intelligence, had not figured out that it was because the boy was meant to be his veela Mate. _Despite _the rumors that Grimmjow Jaegerjaques was, in fact, half-veela.

Szayel sighed and murmured something wistfully about 'young love', in spite of the fact that he was seventeen like Grimmjow and his experience with romantic relationships was confined to flirting shamelessly and then sleeping with heterosexual males that he wanted to turn on to the joys of the same sex. That was alright though, it was how the bespectacled teenager coped with never being able to have his chance with Ulquiorra before he had died in the Battle of Hogwarts that past spring. But the blue-haired veela hoped that Szayel could find someone to be serious with, because he himself knew how fulfilling it was to devote yourself completely to another, deserving person.

Even if they had no idea.

"Grimmjow, are you listening?" his friend's tenor voice cut through his thoughts, and he looked up to see Szayel gesturing towards the doors to the dormitories. "I must have said three times that Pantera is in the dormitory with a package for you. Evil thing wouldn't let me take it from her and nearly bit my finger right off, which I will have you know are of great importance to society-hey, where are you going?"

The seventh year Slytherin had tuned Szayel out as soon as he mentioned Pantera and had nearly jumped off of his seat by the false window to rush to the seventh year boys' dormitory. He descended down the staircase until the very bottom, where the last door proclaimed that only he, Szayel, and Waldorf Greengrass occupied the room beyond.

Throwing the door open, Grimmjow stalked into the circular room bedecked in typical Slytherin decor, three green and black canopy beds centered around an ebony, oval-shaped table with two eather armchairs that were placed on top of a plush marble green shag rug laying over the dark hardwood floor. On that table, with a small package and envelope tied to her leg, was a Barred Owl, whom instead of having the customary dark eyes of the species had bright sky blue irises, just like her owner.

Grimmjow smiled softly at the animal, a smile reserved for only those close enough to his heart to be blessed with it, and that number was very small, indeed. Minuscule, even. But Pantera was practically his familiar, there to listen to him rave on about school and his family and, of course, Ichigo. No one else was less judgmental than his beautiful owl, or more intelligent. The blunette remembered the time she had figured out to fly down to his dorms all by herself when he had skipped breakfast in the Great Hall and he had nearly burst with pride.

Moving to kneel beside his trunk, all of his things packed away tidily inside as Szayel gave a whole new meaning to the term _neat freak_, he pressed his thumb to the enchanted lock that immediately clicked open once it read his magical signature. Quickly, as he knew Pantera didn't like to be kept waiting, he retrieved the package of owl treats and held out a couple for the Barred owl to eat from his hand. Though she didn't spare him a nip on his index finger since she had been patiently awaiting his arrival in the dormitory for some time now. Grimmjow only caressed under the feathers at the base of her neck in return, earning him soft cooing sounds.

"Got something for me there, Pan?" he asked once the owl was nice and appeased. Pantera hooted and ruffled her wings a little as the teenager reached to gently untie the small package from her leg. It was nondescript, wrapped in plain brown paper, and was about the size of his palm. There was a thin envelope addressed to him attached to it, so he opened that first, almost tearing the letter inside in his haste. But Grimmjow couldn't be blamed, for he knew whom the package and letter was from, and what it might say about the people he loved so deeply it hurt. The first obviously being Ichigo, and the second being his mother.

He unfurled the parchment, taking in the familiar neat script that belonged to his Aunt Halibel, his mother's sister and a full-blooded veela. Not even realizing he was holding his breath, the Slytherin began to read, his eyes eagerly devouring each and every word desperately.

_Grimmjow,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. I know school must be difficult this year considering everything, but that isn't an excuse to do poorly on your N.E.W.T.'s so I expect to see straight O's come Spring. And yes, even in Charms._

_However, onto the reason I am writing you this letter. As I informed you of in my last letter, Nelliel and I went before the Wizengamot to speak with them about allowing your mother to visit your father more often whilst he is incarcerated. We made the case that she's been gradually recovering now that she's with her own kind, but the separation from her Mate is resolutely slowing the process, and we also encouraged them to think of the fact that Hyorinmaru Jaegerjaques only did what he had to in order to protect his family. However, we have just been graced with the document containing their decision, and they have almost unanimously denied our request. With their focus on all of the corrupted officials being weeded out of the Ministry and restoring the people's trust, veela and other magical creature rights are at the moment considered unimportant, and even more so the rights of those whom are convicted or suspected of being on the wrong side of the wizarding war this past spring._

_Grimmjow, I am uncertain if veela laws will be slighted in this unstable time but it is looking more and more likely as they seek to restore order, and I know you are aware of what could happen if they do. You have two strikes against you, so do not let there be a third. As it is now, veelas have until their intended Mate's seventeenth birthday to enter into a binding contract with each other, with three of the four parts of Mating being complete, those being heart, mind, and soul. It is crucial that you claim and bond with your Mate as soon as possible, before officials decide to intervene. They've never been fond of veelas Mating with humans, and at this moment I am certain they will stop at nothing to prevent you and Ichigo from bonding under the impression they are doing something admirable. This is an order from Tier Halibel, chief of the English/Scottish veela clan; make haste before they separate you forever._

_Your mother has told me to write in this letter that she loves you, dearheart, and that you had better hurry up and tell that nice boy you love him and he is your Mate so that you can bond and give her another son to take clothes shopping._

_Yours,_

_Aunt Hali_

_P.S. I have enclosed an heirloom veela charm. Keep it safe, for it was Rangiku's before she married your father, and her mother's before that, and her mother's, and so on since anyone can remember. Wear it always and it shall take the place of your weekly glamor potion, and it could just save your skin should there be need._

As soon as Grimmjow finished reading the last line, he felt a sharp pain in his thigh and looked down to see that in his anger and dismay at the Wizengamot's decision and the thought of the Ministry's officials trying to take Ichigo away from him, his nails had lengthened and shaped into curved talons. A shade of midnight blue and sharp enough to put any slashing or cutting hex to shame, they looked positively lethal and he had been gripping his leg in frustration and rage so tightly, he had torn through the thick fabric of his robes and pants and through his skin like a knife through butter, rivulets of blood now running down the leg of his trousers.

Running his tongue along the edge of his teeth, the veela also confirmed that his canines had similarly sharpened and elongated into deadly points, the slight contact with the pink muscle enough to make it start to bleed as well.

But it wasn't his fault that he couldn't control himself! His wizard half was infuriated at what the wizarding government was doing to him and those he cared about. And his veela half was positively _murderous_, ready to tear into the next person that dared to show their face, and Grimmjow would give whole new meaning to the legend of a veela's temper.

A soft hoot to his side had him opening his sapphire eyes to see Pantera looking up at him with those electric blue irises so like his own that swirled with as much concern as an owl could show. Giving a bitter grin to his pet, Grimmjow let his eyes flutter closed and willed himself to think of things that would calm him and that instinctual part of him that wanted to race to the Ministry that instant and rip every member's heart out of their chest.

He thought of his mother, Rangiku, who was always so cheerful and loving and playful no matter what happened. He thought of the times when he had been a child and she had taken him to Florean Fortescue's for his favorite ice cream, and when she had comforted him when he hadn't lived up to his father's expectations of a perfect pureblood child and when she had explained to him all there was to know about being a veela and how wonderful it would be when he finally found his Mate and how she had devised about a thousand different schemes that she insisted would get Ichigo to fall for him. He thought of her and felt his canines and talons slightly recede.

Then Grimmjow thought of Ichigo, his future Mate, the boy that had been the very center of his universe since that day in Flourish and Blott's when they had been mere children and how he hoped Ichigo would remember that day, because he certainly never would. He thought of Ichigo Kurosaki, his tangerine hair that reminded him of the summer sun, and his warm, molten chocolate-caramel eyes that could internally reduce the blunette to a lustful mess, and his blinding, rare smile that had been extinct as of late. He thought of Ichigo and how he, Grimmjow Jaegerjaques, was going to put that smile back on his Mate's face and would bond with him, mind, heart, body, and soul, so that they could be together always. He thought of Ichigo and felt his canines and nails vanish back into their usual appearance, and his rage completely dissipated.

Letting out a long breath, Grimmjow opened his eyes again. Pantera was staring at him curiously, but no longer looked concerned like she had before. The Slytherin reached out with a now claw-less hand and patted the owl's head tenderly.

"It's alright, girl. Everything's going to be alright," he whispered to her breathlessly. He enjoyed the feeling of her soft feathers under his fingertips for a moment more, before he remembered the package that had come along with the letter. It wasn't a millisecond later that the blunette was ripping through the paper to reveal a palm-sized, ebony wood box that was engraved with scenes of the veela race and he knew had to be several centuries old at least.

With a kind of reverence he rarely showed anyone or anything, Grimmjow opened the box to see that on a velvet strip of midnight blue, his clan's symbolic color, lay a pendant necklace. The chain itself was a mixture of brown leather and tarnished gold, and the pendant itself was actually made up of a number of different things, not the least of these being a large collection of various colored feathers. He assumed that there must have been a feather collected from each owner of the necklace, and they were all various shades of brown, white, gray, black, green, red, and, of course, blue.

Dispersed among where the feathers were attached to the chain, there was also an assortment of what he assumed to be Mating rings, all sized to fit slim female fingers. They were all vastly unique from each other, every last one of them, being made of different metals and designed with diverse filigrees along the bands. Not to mention each and every one had a distinct stone in its setting, though this was to be expected. Grimmjow had long ago been explained to by his mother that stones were chosen for the Mating rings depending on the Mates, the nature of their relationship, and their own individual personalities.

Though it may have been incredibly girly to think such a thing, the blue-haired veela couldn't help but be in awe of the necklace and how many of his ancestor's lives had been interwoven into the piece of jewelry, the feathers the symbols of their unique identity and the rings representing the love they had all shared with their Mates.

Slipping off the enchanted corded bracelet on his wrist that kept the glamor potion flowing in his system, Grimmjow felt the effects of the brew fall away from him. It was bit freeing to know that he looked as he was truly supposed to, feeling his hair lengthen to tumble to his shoulders and his scalp sighing in relief as the glamor potion that kept it short pulled on the skin quite a bit. The blunette, after checking to make sure no one was walking down the stairs at that moment with his enhanced hearing, walked to the full-length mirror beside Szayel's bed.

Despite what most of the Hogwarts population thought, Grimmjow wasn't _that _conceited about his physical appearance, he was just confident. Although, he secretly wished to walk about the castle like this, with his veela allure and charm on full blast, just for one day, just to see the looks and reactions people gave him.

Okay, _maybe _it would be to see the reaction he would get from a certain orange-haired Gryffindor, but can you blame him? Imagine knowing you are by legend a member of the most beautiful race on the entire green Earth, and you couldn't even show it off to people, because you know, they go insane with desire and want and all that fun stuff and end up throwing themselves off the highest tower they can find because they can't have you.

It's just not fair. Not being able to use his veela enticing beauty in order to attract Ichigo to him that is, because _obviously _the pretty orangette wasn't so fond of his personality, not since the younger male's very first day at Hogwarts.

That had been where it had all gone wrong.

* * *

><p><em>Grimmjow had been preening under the attention everyone was giving him in his compartment on the Hogwarts Express when he felt it.<em>

_In the overcrowded compartment, filled with Slytherin students eager to sit next to the _coolest _second year and his friends on the way to school, he had been sitting with one knee propped up while he lazily reclined back in the comfortable bench and almost blatantly ignoring a pug-faced girl that was a year older than him and had apparently been excluded from the popular third year Slytherin compartment. She had been going on and on about how she was going to marry some boy in her year or whatever, when Grimmjow had nearly knocked her onto the floor as he jumped to his feet._

_There had been this pull in the center of his chest, like he had been hooked on a line and was now being reeled in, similar to the sensation of a Portkey, but far more pleasant as there was a warmth in that spot that spread throughout his entire body to the tips of his tingling fingers and toes. Almost immediately, he knew what it was._

_His Mate was on the train._

_A smile brighter than any Lumos spell lit up the blue-haired boy's face and he nearly took the compartment door right off its track as his veela strength welled up in him from the excitement. As he raced down the train corridor, not caring about who he bumped into or even knocked to the ground, he even felt his nails elongate into talons and a curious tickling sensation in his shoulder blades. Using the tricks his mother had taught to him, he took deep, even breaths even as he ran full speed down the corridor, suppressing his veela half._

_It was incredibly hard, especially when that part of him was positively singing in excitement and bliss, but Grimmjow managed, thanking Merlin he hadn't reached full majority like he would at sixteen or else he probably wouldn't have been able to control himself at all and would have gone full veela in the middle of the Hogwarts Express. That certainly would have been a shock to the other students, he thought and his grin widened._

_He could feel himself getting closer and closer, so very near to where his Mate, the most important person in the entire world to him, was. Grimmjow wondered if he still looked the same, or if his hair had darkened a shade or two from that bright sunset orange it had been six years ago. He hoped not, but it wouldn't matter, because he would love his Mate even if he had pink hair like Szayel._

_The blue-haired Slytherin knew he was so close to where his Mate was, he had to be in the next compartment, and just when he laid his hand on the door that he felt with every fiber of being led to where his Mate was sitting, probably eating chocolate frogs and Bertie Bott's that he had bought from the trolley lady, Grimmjow felt nearly all of the warmth in his chest snuff out. And if he had been looking behind him, he would have seen the dark, cloaked figure that ghosted by the now frosted window._

_Dumbfounded, the blunette stopped in his tracks, feeling the front of his school robes as if that would give him the answer as to why he suddenly felt so cold, and why the air itself seemed so heavy. His eyelids hooded from a sudden wave of exhaustion, Grimmjow slid to his knees onto the train floor. The confused and scared voices of the children on the Express sounded in his ears, but it was as if they were very far away and then his blurred vision darkened._

_Immediately, Grimmjow felt terrified, a kind of terror he had never known before and it gnawed at him from the inside out. Then grief overwhelmed him, intertwining with the fear, and he felt like he might be sick or pass out and he wished to do so, to sink into unconsciousness and escape from this horrifying feeling._

_Images of a burning house flashed before his eyes that didn't see anything around him besides what was now being presented to him mentally. The sounds of a young boy's voice, crying, screaming, the picture of a man's twisted, sadistically pleased face, then a woman's fearful, urgent words. She was telling him something, to get out of the house and hide somewhere, and she wasn't calling him Grimmjow but..._

_Ichigo._

_The blue-haired boy veela's cyan eyes snapped open then and a shrieking roar he had never imagined himself able to make split from his throat. His nails rapidly turned into curved, midnight blue talons, incisors sharpening to deadly points, and then the tickling sensation at his shoulder blades returned full force, becoming almost unbearable until he heard the sound of his school uniform ripping as leviathan-sized feathered wings sprung from his back. The burst of wind that came from the action sent the dark cloaked figures in the train corridor flying backwards several feet, but Grimmjow didn't care about them. His Mate was in pain._

_This time he did rip the compartment door from its track with his veela strength, flinging the heavy wood and glass object onto the ground as if it weighed nothing. He let out another shrill roar as he saw what was inside of the compartment, letting out a burst of pure veela magic that shattered the glass of the windows and the other paned doors The wraith-like creature inside paused in what it was doing in order to shield itself and so the orange-haired boy it had been holding a few feet in the air dropped the to the ground._

_Grimmjow's eyes widened as he took in his Mate, six years older than when he had last seen him, and while he was still the most beautiful sight the veela had ever seen, he was deathly pale and while not entirely unconscious he was muttering random words in a disoriented way and his chocolate brown eyes were hooded and glazed over. And so the Slytherin wasted no time before kneeling beside the orangette, his Mate, and taking him in his arms, cooing and murmuring words of safety and security. He still is not entirely sure what he said, but he knew he assured his Mate that he loved him and wouldn't let him be hurt. The orange-haired boy didn't respond and snarling, Grimmjow turned his head to look at the cloaked creature that had dared to harm his Mate._

"_Tch," was all he said before sending a veela elemental magically produced fireball the thing's way, watching in delight as it screamed in pain and terror as the flames quickly engulfed him, not even leaving ashes on the floor as it disappeared from the world forever._

_Still holding his Mate in his arms, Grimmjow was startled to hear a groan coming from the other side of the compartment and, clutching the boy in his arms even tighter as his protective instincts demanded, he looked up to see two other males around his age lying on the compartment bench. One of them was a poor imitation of his Mate, all alabaster and colorless, and the blunette watched through narrowed eyes as the white-haired boy slowly sat up, blinking and looking thoroughly shaken and confused. His veela half deciding that neither this boy or the other was a threat to his Mate, Grimmjow allowed his wings, talons, and fangs to recede just as the albino's strange black and gold eyes focused on him._

"_Ichi?" he asked, puzzlement and concern and fear seeping into his tone. The blunette deduced this must be his Mate's name and he mentally purred at the information, remembering that he had heard his full name too when the creature had attacked. It was Ichigo, and it was perfect._

"_Wha' did ya do to him ya slimy git!" the boy that had just awoken now demanded harshly, nearly leaping from his position to withdraw his wand from his pocket and point it right at Grimmjow's face. The Slytherin merely sneered; he knew that the albino was no more than a first year and not even one day of proper magical training and was therefore no menace to his well-being. "Let 'im go, right now, or I'll curse ya so hard ya won't wake up 'til next century!"_

_Grimmjow scoffed, his wizard half and pureblood upbringing returning to him, rendering him capable of speech once more. "Please, like you know what to with that thing. Now put it away before you get hurt."_

"_Are ya threatenin' me ya...ya...ya blueberry!" the first year waved his wand about, red sparks flying from the tip and making the so-called 'blueberry' to tighten his hold on Ichigo._

"_No, I'm just afraid you'll poke someone's eye out," he retorted. The albino boy's eyes thinned into slits at the obvious insult towards his magical capability and he took a step forward, ready to pry the orangette out of Grimmjow's arms and risk his own skin to do so, as the second year boy's body language screamed 'mine' as he held onto his Mate._

_However, just as the struggle over Ichigo was about to occur, there was a pained moan that came from the veela Mate and he brought his hands up to his face in order to rub at his eyes as he slowly regained awareness. Grimmjow could do nothing but watch as he did this, anxious over the fact that the vile creature he had killed had injured his Mate in a way he couldn't see._

"_Wha...Who are you? What happened to me?" Ichigo's small, groggy voice started off confused and then swiftly turned into panic. As if a light switch had been flipped, the orangette seemed to realize he was in the arms of a strange boy that was looking down at him with troubled sapphire blue eyes, and then he was scrambling to get away, Grimmjow's arms loosening their grip and allowing him to back up a few feet to where the white-haired boy, obviously his brother, still stood with his wand out. The blunette had been reluctant to hold him to a place he didn't want to be and yet his heart screamed in protest at letting go of the Mate he had been pining for the past six years, wondering when he would see the beautiful boy again._

"_I'm not gonna ask again, blueberry, so tell me righ' now wha' ya did ta Ichigo!" the albino brother pressed, flourishing his wand yet again. Grimmjow could hear the gasps of both the now conscious male on the other side of the compartment and Ichigo, the latter nearly ripping his heart in two as those fawn brown eyes widened in fear._

"_Y-you did t-that to me?" his Mate asked of him, and he wanted so badly to proclaim that he hadn't done anything to hurt Ichigo, and that he never would. But that was a little too much for the moment and he didn't even know how to begin explaining how he had saved the orange-haired first year from the cloaked creature, let alone how to go about doing so for the complicated and convoluted subject of veelas and their Mates. And those terrified, pained eyes of Ichigo's, they were making him hurt so badly, he didn't even know what to say, or what to do. He wanted to reach out and hold the other boy, stroke his hair and tell him that everything was alright, that Ichigo would never have to be scared or lonely or anything bad as long as he was around, his entire veela half was screaming at him to do so. But just this once, his wizard half won the battle, and that side didn't know what to do at all._

_So he ran. Fled the compartment, torn shirt and everything, and raced back to where his fellow Slytherins were making fun of those whom had fallen prey to the Dementor attack, especially one Gryffindor boy that had fainted and had to be given chocolate as some kind of first aid. Grimmjow wanted so desperately to say something to the boys and girls taunting the boy, but he didn't, he was far too lost in thought about Ichigo, and how he was going to make things right with his Mate, if it was the last thing he ever did._

* * *

><p>Needless to say, Grimmjow had tried and failed many, many times to get into Ichigo's good graces, but the boy had been utterly terrified of him the first year, convinced that the Slytherin had been the one to make him relive his worst memories. Then as time went on, and the orangette learned of Dementors, that fear turned into dislike and rivalry. Grimmjow knew that Ichigo felt he needed to prove himself, that he was no longer a scared little boy, and that a good way to do this would be to antagonize the older student that had frightened him so for no reason.<p>

At some points, the veela had found himself enjoying the little spats he had with his Mate. He loved Ichigo's feisty, passionate personality that came out when he was agitated, especially since the Gryffindor was so quiet and observant most of the time. Of course, Grimmjow hated it when the name-calling and insults had grown to be personal, and he had felt like throwing up every time he said something unkind to his beloved, but he couldn't drop the act that he and Ichigo were enemies, the reasons becoming more and more complicated and serious as they grew older.

He wondered if Ichigo had ever noticed that when their fights had come to physical blows, he had only ever restrained the other, never making contact with his fists or feet. He wondered if Ichigo had ever noticed that sometimes when he forgot to eat a meal due the house elves always knew and sent a plate for him to his room, if he had ever noticed that when he was in the library late at night, reading, that there had always been a figure lurking in the shadows to make sure nothing happened, if he had ever noticed the last semester, when the school had been controlled by Death Eaters, that despite his status as a member of the DA and rebellious attitude towards the dark wizards and witches he never ended up in their cruel, twisted version of detention, that they had never laid a hand on him.

Grimmjow wondered if Ichigo had noticed that it had seemed oddly convenient during the Battle of Hogwarts that Antonin Dolohov had been led straight to him, putting him in the perfect position to attack, or if he had noticed that no other during that night had so much as sent a stunning spell his way or if he had noticed that the whole time there had been someone following him from a safe distance, watching his every move.

He wondered if Ichigo would _ever _notice that he harbored such a deep-seated love for the boy that he would do just about anything to keep him safe and happy.

A knock on the door startled Grimmjow out of his thoughts, realizing he had been staring at his reflection the entire time with lost, unseeing diamond blue eyes that were too brilliant to belong to any human. He hurriedly put the pendant necklace around his neck, watching as his hair shortened and his general appearance dimmed dramatically, taking him from ethereally beautiful divine being to good-looking mortal.

"Yeah?" he called out, his voice gruff.

"Grimm_jow_, dinner's in ten minutes~" Szayel's lilting sing-song voice called through the door. The blunette called out that he was coming and turned to walk out of his dormitory, his heavy heart lifting a bit when he remembered that that time tomorrow he would be on his way to spend the evening with Ichigo, his Mate.

And it was then that he could finally start to show that he, Grimmjow Jaegerjaques, would only ever love Ichigo Kurosaki and that they were bound by the threads of fate to be together.

* * *

><p>"<em>I still believe in love at first sight. Nothing's impossible."<em>

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Yay, new chapter AND a lovely new beta by the name of **ArisuAmiChan**, who was such a doll to help me out! Many thanks to her. Well, I hope you all enjoyed this, and if you still feel confused, I promise more will be explained in later chapters.


	4. Emerald & Silver

_Chapter Four: Emerald & Silver_

_Beta'ed by Arisu-Ami-Chan_

* * *

><p>The next night Ichigo tried to eat his favorite steak and kidney pudding as slowly as possible and afterwards dragged his feet along the stone floors of Hogwarts castle, walking at a flobberworm's pace to the third floor. However, no matter how hard or long he tried to put it off, or how many times he accidentally on purpose took a staircase that moved in the opposite direction he was headed, seven o'clock came. He found himself standing in front of Professor Urahara's office door, reporting for the first of many detentions.<p>

He didn't even have to knock before the door swung open, revealing the DADA instructor's massive, cluttered office. There were bookshelves overflowing with modern and ancient texts of every size and color lining all four walls, and more books were arranged in numerous precariously towering stacks. Ichigo thought that the only area not covered in books was Urahara's mahogany desk, but even that was piled with sheet after sheet of parchment and more quills than one person could possibly need.

However, what really caught the Gryffindor's attention were the two males by that desk, one of whom he was very surprised to see there before him. He'd never imagined Jaegerjaques bothered to be on time for anything, especially something like detention.

"Ah, Mr. Kurosaki, so nice of you to join us!" Urahara said, swishing his cane in the air so that the door shut behind the orangette, effectively sealing his fate. "I was just telling Mr. Jaegerjaques here about what you two will be doing during your time with me."

Ichigo approached cautiously, looking out of the corner of his eye to see the blue-haired boy staring blankly at the floor, arms crossed over his chest. It was downright uncanny to see his rival in such a state, as if he were deep in thought, when Ichigo always associated Jaegerjaques with wicked grins and barking laughter.

But perhaps he wasn't the only one that had been affected by the war.

"Minerva wanted me to assign you tasks that would have you working together, but I, being the hip, cool teacher that I am," Urahara said, flicking his fan open to hide the bottom portion of his face. "Will give you each separate things to do."

He paused as if waiting for both Ichigo and Jaegerjaques to throw themselves at his feet in worship and when they didn't, he snapped his fan closed again, managing to only look mildly disappointed.

"No, no, the pleasure is all mine," he said, walking around his desk to pick up one of the stacks of parchment. "Mr. Jaegerjaques, you've gotten straight O's in my class so far this year, so you will grade these fourth year papers. Mr. Kurosaki, since I always see you in the library, you can organize my research material."

"Research material?" Ichigo said.

"The books, Kurosaki, the books." Urahara gestured flippantly to the bookcase behind him and the Gryffindor could have sworn his jaw hit the stone floor.

"I have to organize... _all of them_?"

"Relax, dear boy. You don't have to do them all tonight, just by the end of the week," the professor said reassuringly, reaching out a hand to squeeze Ichigo's shoulder.

"You can't be serious."

"Why ever not?" Urahara genuinely looked puzzled and the orange-haired sixth year felt his entire face flush a deep scarlet out of pure disbelief and frustration, at a complete loss for words.

"Professor," Jaegerjaques said, speaking for the first time since Ichigo had arrived. "I'll switch with Kurosaki." The blunette's eyes remained downcast and slightly to the side as he spoke. His voice was unlike anything the orangette had ever heard from him before. Quiet, even, almost soft; it was jarring but... more pleasant than his usual mocking tone.

Being a Gryffindor he wanted to believe that Jaegerjaques had offered in a honest attempt to do good but couldn't. The Slytherin wasn't to be trusted, he'd learned that on day number one, on the train when he'd snapped out of his trance to find himself in the arms of a strange, blue-haired boy.

Of course, Ichigo had learned that what had attacked him in the first place that day had been a Dementor, but the rest of what had happened never added up. Why had Jaegerjaques fled the scene instead of explaining himself? It just didn't make sense. Though the sixth year knew he'd been mostly to blame for their bitter rivalry status, as he'd been so determined to prove after his first school year spent fearing the other that he wasn't weak or a coward, the blunette had never given him a reason to rethink it.

"That won't be neccessary, Mr. Jaegerjaques; just grade those papers," Urahara said before Ichigo could say a word. "I'll be having coffee with Professor Shihōin tonight, but I should return before curfew. So I will just leave you two to it, then."

Ichigo was sure he heard the DADA professor chuckle under his breath as he swept out of the room, dark green robes billowing behind him and leaving the two students alone in the office.

Expectantly, a few moments of severe awkwardness ensued, the orangette shuffling his feet while biting his lip and looking around aimlessly. He and Jaegerjaques had been in each other's presence more times than he could remember but never had they been... _alone_. No, they'd always interacted in crowded hallways after class or the Great Hall during mealtimes.

It was... weird.

Ichigo didn't bother to say anything before walking up to the nearest bookcase and blackly cursing Professor Kisuke Urahara's name in his head as he took in the completely random way the books had been shelved.

The only pattern he knew to organize texts was the system they had set up in the castle library, which had been created by someone who liked to make things more complicated than need be. There was no possible way he could have it done in five days, it would take _weeks _to sort through these books and systematize them properly.

The sound of someone clearing their throat made Ichigo turn his head back to where Jaegerjaques was still standing by the desk, stack of ungraded essays in one hand while the other was clenched into a fist in front of his mouth. He'd finally taken his eyes off the floor and their ultramarine depths were unreadable as they met the Gryffindor's toffee brown.

"We can still switch if you want," Jaegerjaques said, looking uncharacteristically uneasy as he shrugged his shoulders. "I don't care."

Ichigo's left eyebrow quirked upwards, but his lips remained pressed into a thin, barely-there frown. "I can do it by myself, thank you." His words were like ice, but it was the most civil conversation they'd ever had to date.

"Suit yourself," Jaegerjaques said in that same kind of muted, very unlike him sort of way before reclining lazily in Urahara's plush desk chair and making himself at home as he threw one long leg over the armrest and pillowed his chin in his hand. The orangette narrowed his eyes, returning to the mountain of books awaiting him.

"Bloody Slytherin purebloods think they own the whole damn world," he said to himself, his voice low enough that he thought no one else would be able to hear him. He nearly jumped a foot in the air when he heard an amused snort, but when he let his gaze travel back to where Jaegerjaques was the blunette was like a statue, eyes glued to the essay on his lap.

Ichigo's eyes thinned even further, leaving nothing but slits as he regarded the other boy that looked very much like he hadn't just snorted, which was probably against the pureblood code of ethics or something. The seventh year, if he really had heard, normally would have retaliated with some kind of scathing remark about Ichigo's halfblood status or his house or even the apparently bizarre close relationship he had with his twin.

Something was definitely up, but the Gryffindor couldn't afford to think on it any longer as his time to finish sorting Professor Urahara's 'research material' dwindled away every minute that passed.

They worked in total silence save for the scratching of the Slytherin boy's quill against parchment and the thudding sound the heavier books made as Ichigo moved them from the shelves into the center of the office. He figured he would have to get all of the volumes in one place first, then assign shelves to specific categories like in the library and _then _sort them into those categories, arranging them alphabetically.

He swore he would find a way to use the permanent sticking charm on his DADA professor's genitals so that they always stuck to his leg. That would be a fair act of vengeance for making him do this while Jaegerjaques got to freaking _grade papers _in his comfortable chair and watch the other boy every so often over the edge of the parchment.

Yeah, Ichigo noticed this alright, feeling those eyes the color of the blue steam of the Draught of Living Death boring through him like they were enchanted with a cutting hex. Either the blue-haired seventh year was sneaking glances at him to get a perverse glee out of seeing his rival work so hard or... it was something entirely different. The first reason seemed more likely, but with the _way _Jaegerjaques was looking at him the orangette couldn't help but think it may have been the something entirely different.

An hour had passed when Ichigo came to one of the tallest stacks of books, piled higher than his head by a good few feet, but he figured he could just grab hold of the highest one he could reach and slide it and the ones on top off of the tower of books. It seemed like a perfectly fine plan up until he went to actually take a hold of the highest volume he could reach.

"Kurosaki, that's a really bad idea," Jaegerjaques said not in a condescending or even amused tone, sounding more like a stern and admonishing parent.

"I know what I'm doing!" Ichigo huffed, not even bothering to dignify the warning by asking why or even looking the other boy's way. As he heard the distinctive noise of a chair scraping against the stone floor he gripped the chosen book in his hands and carefully pulled it off of the pile, along with the five dense volumes on top of that one.

He would never admit that the bluenette had been right, never ever, but as his wiry arms built more like a Seeker's than a Beater's took on the total weight of those six books, Ichigo realized that Jaegerjaques may have had a point.

His outstretched arms shook under the weight for a good second before giving out, the thick, hefty texts obeying the laws of gravity as they plummeted straight towards his face. The orangette gave a little squeak of fright he would deny later, frozen in place as if under the influence of a _Petrificus Totalus_ charm and watching with wide eyes as the broken nose, busted lip, missing teeth promising books neared him as if in slow motion.

Just before the first could make contact with his face, Ichigo was jerked backwards by broad hands that hooked themselves under his arms. The books fell to the ground, the resulting thuds of them meeting the stone floor deafening in the otherwise silent office. The Gryffindor didn't move for a moment, head slightly spinning at the rapid chain of events. Nevertheless, he nearly gave himself whiplash when he realized he was leaning against something firm, but soft and leapt away, head turning at Firebolt speed to see just exactly what that thing was, though he had a pretty good idea already.

"Told you it was a bad idea," was all Jaegerjaques had to say for himself as Ichigo sputtered as if he had been been _Confunded_.

"You...you...how, I mean, why...?"

"I'm 'fraid I don't understand the question." The blunette 's familiar arrogance returned full force as his trademark smirk stretched his lips, the one that no one anywhere ever could hope to beat in smug self-satisfaction and sexiness.

_Wait...what? _

"Why did you just do that?" Ichigo said, banishing that last thought from his mind as if it had never existed. "I thought you would've been so happy to see me taken out by a few books you'd piss yourself laughing."

In another moment of weirdness Jaegerjaques didn't answer directly and the smirk fell from his face, the more serious expression that he'd worn for most of the night replacing it.

"Look," he said, never breaking eye contact with the orange-haired Gryffindor. "We have to spend every week night until the Christmas holiday together and I don't know about you, but I'm sick of the bullshit, pointless fighting."

Ichigo knew the other boy didn't just mean the fighting between the two of them.

"Yeah, same," he said without thinking. "So... we just stay out of each other's way until this whole thing is over?"

Jaegerjaques didn't say anything for a few long moments and the sixth year Gryffindor wanted to tear away from his too intense cyan blue stare, but didn't want the blue-haired boy to know he was affected by it at all.

"Yes. We'll stay out of each other's way," he finally said.

Ichigo just nodded and turned back to his piles upon piles of unsorted books. However, when he reached for one it levitated a few feet into the air followed by several others and they flew through the air to land in the center of the room where he'd been collecting all of the volumes. A quick glance to his right showed Jaegerjaques with his wand out, lazily levitating book after book into the pile.

"Birthday was in July, so I'm seventeen," he said.

"You're so lucky. I won't turn seventeen until next year." Ichigo pouted slightly despite his tiny burst of joy at remembering that the Slytherin was a seventh year and seventeen and therefore legally able to do magic wherever and whenever he felt like it. "And thanks, now I don't have to move them all by hand."

It was unnerving how fast he'd been able to start talking to the other boy as if he was an acquaintance rather than his most hated school enemy. Or, former most hated school enemy rather. In fact, it wasn't just unnerving, it was actually a little frightening. Hadn't this been the person that had mocked and insulted him the past five years?

So why did it feel like that didn't matter?

Jaegerjaques just grunted in response, the books flying at a faster pace through the air to land on the mass in the room's center. The orangette mentally noted it was an impressive feat of magic for a wizard that just reached majority to be able to wordlessly command such an extensive levitation spell.

It only took a minute or so for all of the books in the entire room to be gathered together, leaving the bookcases and floor clear. Once Ichigo saw the Slytherin boy lower his wand, he approached the pile of books, letting out a long suffering sigh.

"How are you going to sort these?" Jaegerjaques said.

"The same way they do it in the library," the sixth year said, seeing that the older boy had moved closer to the books as well and seemed to have no intention of going back to the desk. "Don't you still have to grade those essays? I'm not going to get detention until the end of the school year because you didn't finish what you were supposed to do."

There, that felt a little bit more familiar, even if the words left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"Relax, Kurosaki. I graded them all so you don't have to worry your pretty little head about spending every evening with me in detention for the rest of your life."

Ichigo knew he should have been offended, but his mind hooked onto the word 'pretty' and kept repeating it over and over. It was senseless to him, because that word meant nothing, was never meant to mean anything, surely, but it just...stuck with him.

"Whatever," he said under his breath. "Just help me sort the fiction from the non-fiction."

"Tch, fine." Jaegerjaques immediately set to work, picking up a book to read the title and then tossing it to his right. "Non-fiction."

"You can't just throw them around like that!"

"Why not? It's a piece of junk anyway, all about muggles."

"Are you serious? You can't still think that you're superior to muggles."

"I don't think that, I know it."

"Oh, well did you know you're a git?"

"No, can't say I do."

"Well... You are one."

"Whatever you say, Kurosaki."

* * *

><p>When Professor Urahara returned to his office that evening twenty minutes before curfew, Ichigo imagined he had to try very hard not to show any kind of reaction to the state the room was in.<p>

The Gryffindor and Slytherin, despite their shaky truce, had argued numerous times about which book was to be placed in this section and that section. Right before the DADA instructor had walked in Jaegerjaques had been insisting _The Tale of Jirry, the Veela with Rainbow Feathers _was non-fiction as it was a true story while Ichigo adamantly protested it was a children's book, making it fiction. Somehow the book ended up in both of their grasps at the same time and the resulting tug of war ripped the binding in half, the pages flying everywhere just as Urahara entered his office.

"I see the two of you have been busy," the professor said, staring at the pages of the book floating to the floor from where they had been thrust into the air. "I hope that wasn't _The Tale of Jirry_, that was my favorite story as a child."

Ichigo momentarily forgot his predicament and shot the blue-haired boy a triumphant 'I told you so' look complete with a pompous smirk.

Urahara sighed, wading through the sea of books on the floor while waving absentmindedly with his wand, the ruined children's book sewing itself back to its former condition under the command of a _Reparo _spell.

"You both can go to your dormitories now. I expect you here at the same time tomorrow evening."

Ichigo nodded and tried to walk at a normal pace to the door, containing his urge to bolt for it and drag his sorry behind back to Gryffindor tower. It was kind of pathetic he was this worn-out and it was only the first day of the weeks of detention he still had to look forward to.

Jaegerjaques was right behind him and they walked into the torch-lit corridor together. The orangette hesitated before heading down the opposite way the seventh year was going. He was unsure of what to do then, only that he had to do _something_.

They'd made a truce of sorts to bring an end to a six year long rivalry, but it didn't make them friends, or even acquaintances, and they were no longer enemies. They were...something entirely different.

Before the younger of the two had a chance to pull himself together, Jaegerjaques spoke.

"Kurosaki," he said and Ichigo let his gaze snap up from his shoes to the sapphire eyes of the other teenager. "I wanted to...apologize, for the duel. If I hadn't summoned that fire, we wouldn't have to waste our free time in detention."

"You want to... _apologize_?" Ichigo thought that having Jaegerjaques be civil to him was bizarre enough, but for the blunette to apologize? It was too much.

Not to mention, he'd never told a soul besides his brother about his fear of fire.

"I just said that, didn't I? Now, do you accept it or not?"

"I...well, it's my fault too," the orangette said, ashamed as he remembered his frightened, impulsive actions during the duel. "I wasn't thinking."

"No, you were doing what your instinct told you to do," Jaegerjaques said. "More wizards should do the same. So is my apology accepted?"

Ichigo remembered one time when he'd been six or seven his mother telling him it was something of a pureblood custom that the one apologizing do everything in their power to make sure that the recipient accepted the apology. Accepting an apology was like starting with a blank slate, all previous history erased.

"Yeah, I accept," he said. "And you can stop calling me Kurosaki; Ichigo's fine."

Jaegerjaques' left thin, blue eyebrow arched and he grinned, the natural wickedness and sharp canines making him look savagely pleased.

"_Ichigo_." He seemed to savor every vowel and consonant and syllable like it was a sweet from Honeyduke's, rolling the name around his tongue and trying to taste its flavor. Then he jabbed a thumb at his chest. "Grimmjow."

Not a millisecond later and he was gone, stalking down the corridor in that predator-like way of his, Ichigo's view of his broad shoulders and back diminishing as walked further and further away.

"Grimmjow," Ichigo said to himself. It felt foreign in his mouth, but the blunette's first name suited him so much better than his last. "Grimmjow. Grimmjow. Grimmjow."

* * *

><p>The Astronomy Tower's observation deck was particularly divine that night, Grimmjow noted.<p>

Feeling far too wired and pleasantly jittery, he'd forgone returning to the Common Room to make the trip up to the highest point in the castle, his favorite place to be alone. The time, just past ten, and the October weather, chilled but still rather mild with a slight breeze, made for the perfect conditions to be up there.

The sky was relatively cloudy, the moon and stars playing hide and seek with gossamer wisps of pale gray. No one was even in the area except for him and so it was ideally silent as he stared out on the grounds of Hogwarts, even the Forbidden Forest seeming tranquil as the tops of the trees swayed gently in the wind.

Grimmjow, though no philosopher, decided it was a good time to be alive. Even with the weight of the news in his Aunt Halibel's letter on his shoulders, at that moment in that serene, storybook setting and still feeling the rush of both new and old love, it was like anything was possible.

That night his first shared detention with Ichigo had gone even better than he'd imagined. He hadn't expected to be able to try and bury the hatchet so soon, but being alone with the beautiful orange-maned boy and still having to pretend he didn't live and breath for him had ached impossibly. The veela blood in him had sung hymns at the close, intimate contact when he'd pulled Ichigo from his fate of being crushed by books, and it had only gotten stronger as the evening had gone on.

Yes, they had bickered but it had been different, though probably no one besides the two of them would have been able to tell. The spark in those syrupy chocolate brown eyes when they'd stubbornly debated the placement of books had never been there before and Grimmjow couldn't stop replaying its image in his mind.

Ichigo was willing to give him a clean slate, he'd done so when he'd accepted the Slytherin's apology. Pureblood custom, you know.

A shudder rushed through Grimmjow's body and he made a mental note to take a trip to the forest as soon as he could. His veela didn't like to be caged inside of his human form for long periods of time, and with his Mate's friendlier attitude it would soon demand to be set free.

"You know, your hair is the exact color of the Umgubular Slashkilter's fur."

Grimmjow whipped his head around to see who had dared to intrude upon his alone time, ready to tell the person to sod off until his sight landed on the figure of a girl standing by the entryway leading in from the several flights of stairs in the tower. His harsh greeting died on his lips.

She was pretty in an unusual way, endowed with thick, dirty blonde hair that fell in mussed waves and large, somewhat glazed over silvery eyes. She wore a dreamy smile that any recent student of Hogwarts would recognize anywhere, a Ravenclaw uniform, a necklace made of bottle caps, and earrings made out of radishes.

"You must be a person with many secrets," she said airily, taking a few steps forward until she too leaned on the half-wall of the observation deck. The breeze picked up the ends of her hair and she trained her wide, pale eyes on the blunette. "Grimmjow."

His brow furrowed as he wondered what the bloody hell she was doing trying to start up a conversation with him. Every student except for Szayel avoided him like the plague and while they were in the same year, he didn't think they'd ever said more than a word or two to each other.

If it had been anyone else, or almost anyone else rather, Grimmjow would have snarled at them to piss off. But Luna Lovegood was a special case. He'd never had the desire to make fun of her like so many others had, never wanted to call her 'Loony.'

He suspected it was because she had to know what it was like to be different from everyone else too, though she had the guts to show her oddities to the world whereas he still kept his own hidden.

"Your duel with Ichigo Kurosaki was really lovely."

Grimmjow said nothing, wondering just what she meant by _lovely_. His duel with Ichigo had been anything but.

"It's very impressive you learned to use your elemental magic so young. Most half-veela never gain full use of their powers," Luna said, her gaze locked on the Great Lake as she spoke. At the blunette's both shocked and suspicious expression, she continued. "Oh, don't worry, I'm not going to blab to anyone. All of your secrets are safe with me."

The blue-haired Slytherin grunted in appeasement but arched a brow at the blonde girl. She understood immediately.

"I just used my eyes to see you," she said. "A lot of people don't ever bother to use their eyes, you know. If they did, they would see the truth, don't you think so?"

When Grimmjow remained silent, Luna persisted with her one-sided conversation.

"It's like first impressions. If people used their eyes, then they could see the kind of person you really are, but they're too scared to because they've seen awful things," she said. "I saw my mum die when I was little and I was blind for a while because I was too scared to see, but I learned to use my eyes again."

"How?" Grimmjow's abrupt question surprised him, but not all-knowing Luna who turned to regard him with her dazed, calm smile.

"The same way anything is ever made right. Love and time."

She had to be the wisest person he'd ever met, Grimmjow thought. But she couldn't possibly know...

"So have you heard about Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy?" she said, pushing herself off the half wall. When the blue-haired teenager shook his head, trying to locate the face to the last name which wasn't too difficult considering as all purebloods are, they were distantly related. "They're getting married next Spring."

Luna made her way back to the entryway leading to the several flights of stairs while Grimmjow tried to contain his shock at hearing the information. He'd seen firsthand how those two had despised each other, never missing an opportunity to insult the other. Just like...

"Funny, isn't it? How the people who love each other most can hide it for so long."

Well, fuck.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **I'm terribly sorry for the wait! Next one shouldn't take as long. : )

Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed or added this to their favorites/alerts.

Drarry is the best HP fandom pairing in my opinion so I had to squeeze it in here somehow. ;P


	5. Amber

**Beta'ed by ArisuAmichan**

_Chapter Five: Amber_

* * *

><p>"<em>Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it."<em>

* * *

><p>Five days into his punishment, on a Saturday morning,Ichigo was sitting at Gryffindor's house table in the Great Hall, trying to stay awake and his head from falling into the bowl of porridge in front of him, when his albino twin, dressed in Quidditch gear, strode over from across the hall to flop down onto the bench next to him.<p>

A few irritated glares were shot the Slytherin's way for daring to sit at the lions' table but no one said a thing, willing to tolerate his presence for the fellow house members that cared for him. That, and they were far too unnerved by the boy's manic grin, strange gaze, and off-putting demeanor to ever confront him directly.

"'ey, Ichi," Shiro said, helping himself to the orangette's serving of bacon. "Yer comin' to tha match taday, righ'?"

Ichigo sighed, nodding his head as it would take too much effort to say out loud that yes, he hadn't missed a single one of his brother's matches and wasn't about to start now.

"Why'er ya so tired?" Shiro's gold and black eyes narrowed as his ever-present grin widened just a little bit more even as he bit off a piece of crispy bacon to chew on. "Blue ain't keepin' ya up at nigh' durin' detention, is he?"

The Gryffindor's sleepy eyes widened, his cheeks almost immediately brightening to a startling cerise, alarmed by what his twin could possibly be implying (which was just downright _inconceivable_.)

Well, maybe it wasn't as much so as it had been a week prior, when he and Jaeg- _Grimmjow _had been sworn enemies, before they'd reached their current truce of sorts. In fact, ever since then, during the detentions they'd spent together in Professor Urahara's office sorting through the man's extensive collection of books, they had grown to be... well, not friends exactly but they weren't really enemies or even acquaintances either. Ichigo had no idea what to call them. Maybe there wasn't even a word invented yet to describe what they were.

Surreptitiously, Ichigo looked both ways down the table to make sure no one was eavesdropping on their conversation, and content upon seeing that all of his fellow housemates were engaged in their own bouts of breakfast-time bouts of gossip, he reached over and elbowed his snowy-haired twin in the ribs, _hard_.

"Ow, Ichi!" Shiro said, whimpering and clutching his injured ribcage with both hands. "Wha'd ya do tha' fer?"

"You know why, you pervert!" Ichigo said under his breath, nearly spitting fire at the other boy who truly looked frightened as he scooted down a few inches on the bench. "You were trying to imply that... that he and I, that we-"

"Were gettin' it on on top 'a Urahara's desk? Can' say I'm surprised, all 'a those years when tha two of ya were fightin' was jus' sexual tension, ya know."

When the orange-haired boy went to throw his bowl of hot porridge on him, Shiro held out his hands in surrender.

"All righ', all righ', 'm sorry! Ya've never nor will ever be attracted ta anyone in yer whole life," he said, sighing in relief when Ichigo set down his bowl back onto the house table, satisfied that he'd properly reprimanded his twin brother.

"If you must know, those stupid detentions _are _making me tired, but that's because Urahara keeps making us stay late in order to 'properly organize his research material' _not _because of anything like... _that_," Ichigo said, cheeks still burning at the thought of engaging in that sort of thing with anyone, let alone _Grimmjow_. He was only sixteen for Merlin's sakes, and though everyone else his age seemed all to willing to dive into those kinds of relationships, Ichigo was content to wait until that right person came along.

However, when Shiro didn't say anything else, the orangette looked up from his breakfast to see his albino brother making his way down the table to snuggle up next to a certain Neville Longbottom, almost making the poor boy choke on his toast when a pair of chalky lips pressed against the back of his neck.

Nearly gagging at the sight of his twin doing anything remotely sexual, Ichigo turned back to his porridge, grateful to Shiro for at least keeping him from falling asleep at the table if nothing else.

He was just about to actually begin eating when the familiar screeching of an owl signaled the morning post. Along with most of the other students, he looked up to see one of the less coordinated birds diving straight towards him.

Ichigo managed to move his goblet of the pumpkin juice he never drank just before the barn owl made a crash landing right where it had been placed on the table.

Getsuga, the post owl his father had bought once his sons had received their first Hogwarts letters, blinked up at him in that owlish way with golden eyes to rival Shiro's, a letter addressed to both Kurosaki boys clutched in its beak. Scowling, Ichigo retrieved the letter from the bird, offering up a bit of the bacon his brother had been nibbling on earlier, which Getsuga happily accepted and began to munch away.

The letter was pretty much the usual, Isshin Kurosaki demanding to know every single thing that had happened to his sons since their last letter in a harsh fashion most unlike him.

Ichigo didn't blame his father one bit, not after what he and Shiro had pulled the year before.

You see, the two halfbloods had inherited their magical power from their mother, Masaki, a powerful witch before she'd died protecting her sons from the clandestine Death Eaters that had attacked their home (they'd never known for what.) Their father, Isshin, was actually a muggle, a doctor, that apparently from the stories he'd told his children had only found out his wife was a witch on their wedding night. Quirky as he was, the man had been delighted and been even more so when he found out his twin boys shared their mother's magical capabilities, though he'd thrown a rather unmanly hissy fit when he found out they had to leave home and live at Hogwarts castle.

Out of the wizarding world loop, Ichigo's father had still been ridiculously hard to persuade that nothing had been wrong the past school year when, in fact, _everything _had been wrong. It'd taken all of Shiro's cunning and all of the older man's faith in his seemingly more innocent son to keep him convinced, though by some means, Isshin had found out exactly what had been going on with the second Wizarding War and when they had returned home that summer had almost refused to let them leave to return to the school.

Eventually, he'd relented when Ichigo had begged and pleaded with big, puppy dog eyes and Shiro had threatened his father with every hex he knew (surprisingly, not an uncommon occurrence in their household.) But his conditions had been incredibly strict, taking it upon himself to speak with the Headmistress herself to make sure his sons reported back to him everything that was going on and if there was the slightest hint of danger to either one of them that they be sent back home immediately.

Which brought Ichigo to the letter he currently held in his hands, reading over the stern and parental even on paper kanji that insisted on knowing exactly what had happened in order for the more colorful twin to be given months' worth of detentions as the Headmistress' letter sent to Isshin had informed the man.

Groaning, the orangette pocketed the letter, mentally noting that he would have to write his reply later after the Quidditch match and run up to the Owlery in order to give it to Getsuga to deliver.

With a quick glance his twin's way, he confirmed that Shiro was still focusing all of his attentions on Neville and stood from the table in order to head back up to Gryffindor tower and try to get a few more hours of sleep in before the match later that day.

Ichigo trudged up to the seventh floor, growing frustrated when two of the staircases decided to change direction when he was in the process of walking up them but eventually making it back to the common room and subsequently his dormitory. Luckily, he was the only sixth year around and so he was able to collapse onto the bed and close his eyes in absolute peace and quiet, luxuriating in the feel of the silken sheets against his skin in the incredibly comfortable, canopied bed.

The memories his father's letter unknowingly brought up only made him feel more tired and his chest tighten in that now all too familiar way. If he hadn't left the Great Hall when he had, Ichigo undoubtedly would've fallen prey to that constricting, burning feeling that sometimes felt like it defined his existence, always wary that he would succumb to it and fight just to breathe as his mind was overrun with unwelcome images of death and fire.

Strangely, all he had to do was think of that evening's detention with the Potion's master and a certain blue-haired Slytherin and the burning, aching tightness faded away.

* * *

><p>Four hours later, Ichigo's ears were being assaulted by a cacophony of excited, teenaged cheers coming from every which way in the Quidditch stands, and he cursed his ear muffs for not muting their voices to a tolerable level, wrapping his gold and crimson scarf around his head to try and spare his eardrums from bursting.<p>

He was sitting with his fellow Gryffindors, all of them decked out in blue and silver Ravenclaw gear to support the house opposing the universally loathed Slytherin team- except for him, that is. He remained neutral, outwardly at least, in his own house colors though everyone knew he was rooting for the serpents due to his twin brother's position as one of their Beaters.

"Hey, Ichigo!" a voice called over the din and making the orangette's toffee brown eyes to swivel over to where it originated from a few bleachers down, locking onto two feminine figures, one brunette and one auburn, the latter waving a hand in the air back and forth frantically. Ichigo smiled half-heartedly and waved back with one gloved hand, inwardly groaning. Despite the fact that he liked Orihime Inoue, the girl now making her way towards him, and her girlfriend Tatsuki Arisawa, he couldn't deny he grew tired of her chatterbox routine rather quickly whenever they chatted. It was like she was some kind of muggle wind-up toy.

"Hey Orihime, Tatsuki," he said as they sat down next to him on the bench, squeezing in somehow in the already packed stands. Orihime smiled brightly, her pretty face practically beaming, while the other girl offered a small grin and head nod in return.

"We saw you sitting here and thought you could use some company," Orihime said, adjusting her own set of standard Gryffindor ear muffs, though more likely to stay warm in the autumn weather rather than block out the sounds of the other students as Ichigo had done. He was grateful she hadn't blatantly stated that they'd thought him lonely sitting all by himself in the stands, but would've been even more so had she left him alone to watch the match in relative peace (as much as one could have amidst the screaming fans.)

"Thanks," Ichigo said, voice so quiet he was sure the two girls could barely hear him.

Orihime looked like she was about to say something when the shrill shrieking of Madam Hooch's whistle sounded throughout the Quidditch pitch and stands, alerting all students and the faculty members who'd shown up to where the woman was levitating on her broom several stories in the air smack between the two sets of hoops.

The two opposing teams flew out onto the scene, blue and green robes over their gear billowing in the wind as they surrounded Madam Hooch, game faces on. Thoroughly chewed out and spat on since the beginning of the school year, the Slytherin team weren't about to let the Ravenclaws win this, not when their infamous pride was at stake.

After the usual lecture from the flying instructor and referee, the whistle blew once more and the players were off, swerving and darting around each other, the bright red Quaffle changing hands and Golden Snitch flitting about faster than the naked eye could see. It didn't take long for Shiro to get into the game, he'd practically been born for the position of Beater, batting those nasty Bludgers towards unsuspecting Ravenclaw chasers while laughing maniacally. It would be a miracle if any of that team's members managed to walk off the pitch without a broken arm. Or two.

About forty-five minutes through the match, Orihime tapped Ichigo on the shoulder, the orange-haired boy turning to see that her storm gray eyes were focused on something in the distance, something in the Slytherin stands, as she raised a finger to not so subtly point that something out.

"Ichigo, I didn't want to say anything, but that boy has been staring at you for the past half hour," she said so lowly he had to strain to hear her.

Quirking an eyebrow, Ichigo looked over his shoulder into the green and silver section to see a familiar pair of aqua green eyes locked directly onto him, sending a repulsed shudder down his spine.

It seemed that Koga Kuchiki hadn't given up on wooing him yet, though he desperately wished the other sixth year would leave well enough alone. There was just... _no _way that was ever happening. Ever. Especially not with that Muramasa always hanging around the brunette; his raspy, cold voice could give Ichigo nightmares any day of the week.

And it was just strange, how suddenly Koga had wanted to 'get to know him' at the beginning of the current school year, Ichigo couldn't imagine he'd gotten _that _much better looking over the summer, not when he'd practically been locked inside of his bedroom the entire time due to his father's transformation into a prison warden when he'd heard of what happened at the school at the end of the year.

He immediately looked away from that disturbingly lustful gaze, hoping that maybe Koga would take the hint this time. He. Was. Not. Interested. And never would be, not in a million years. The Gryffindor saw how the pureblood treated those he considered inferior, even after the battle at Hogwarts that past spring. It was disgusting, and he didn't want anything to do with the other.

The burning tightness in his chest returned then, making Ichigo bring a hand to his sternum to rub at the spot that bothered him so, trying to abate it at least a little.

"You know, I heard his hair turned blue in a potions accident when he was little and they were never able to change it back, not even when-"

Ichigo automatically stopped listening to Orihime's prattle when the words 'blue hair' registered in his mind, making his eyes snap back to where the girl had previously been pointing, spotting a few bleachers above Koga a piercing pair of metaphysically blue eyes cutting through the autumn air to seemingly stare directly at, _into_, him.

Grimmjow smirked devilishly, not even trying to hide the fact that he'd been looking at the other boy as he inclined his head in greeting. It was bizarre how his face seemed so clear to Ichigo across the several yards filled with dozens of rambunctious students, but what really bothered the orangette was how his cheekbones burned a fierce burgundy under the blue-haired boy's stare.

Completely mortified at his reaction, Ichigo gave a short wave and whipped his head back around to look into Orihime and Tatsuki's all-knowing expressions, the two girls sharing an 'ah-hah' glance.

What they 'knew' completely escaped him, he was sure that his blush was simply due to the cold.

Yes, the cold.

* * *

><p>It was nearly impossible for one to even imagine Grimmjow's delight upon seeing Ichigo's reaction upon seeing that he'd been staring at the boy ever since the match had started. Of course, he'd been oblivious as always until that Gryffindor girl had pointed him out.<p>

The fact that Ichigo wasn't even aware of how adorable he was, especially when he was blushing, wearing ear muffs no less, only served to make him even more so. Those syrupy brown eyes wide with innocence despite all they'd seen, barely there freckles on sun-kissed skin, and tousled locks of atomic tangerine hair were almost enough to make Grimmjow run across the stands and scoop the boy up and make off with him so he would never have to share with anyone else. The veela blood running through his veins practically screamed at him to do so, but his wizard half brought out the realist in him and he knew he couldn't make any kind of drastic move without scaring Ichigo away.

And that was the last thing he wanted. He would move mountains to never see Ichigo scared of anything ever again, let alone him. It was ingrained in his very soul, never to fade with time. Nothing would rid him, veela or not, of his presently clandestine love for Ichigo Kurosaki.

That was why Grimmjow had kept to offering a friendly truce, instead of immediately going in for the kill, so to speak, however out of character it was for him.

But it had seemed to work swimmingly so far. He and Ichigo had been getting along fairly well, working together to organize the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's 'research material' the past five days. They hadn't spoken much at all really outside of their conversations about which books should go where, some of those setting their similarly short fuses alight and leading them into quick-lived arguments, but Grimmjow couldn't have been the only one who felt that enchanted spark travel through his entire body when their hands accidentally brushed one another's, or especially when he'd saved the other from being crushed by a pile of books.

No, he was fairly certain Ichigo was fast warming up to him, to the point where they could acknowledge each other in public like they'd just done, and he'd be sure to expedite that process just a little more. He had to if he wanted to secure a future with his Mate before the Ministry's seventeenth birthday law came into effect that summer, which Grimmjow knew would be certain to sneak up on him should he become content with a simple friendship with the boy.

The blue-haired veela paid no attention to the Quidditch match at all that afternoon, supernaturally sapphire eyes never leaving the lovely face of a particular Gryffindor.

He was rather looking forward to that night's detention with his head of house and destined Mate.

* * *

><p>Slytherin won the match, much to the joy of Grimmjow's housemates and the distaste of all the other students.<p>

Unimpressed with the victory and comfortable in his newly developed antisocial demeanor, he managed to separate himself from the throng of celebrating students to wander the castle's first floor hallways all by his lonesome. A fortunate coincidence as it turned out because just as he was rounding the corner to the corridor parallel to the Great Hall, he caught an achingly familiar voice with his sensitive ears.

"Leave me alone, Koga."

Grimmjow was almost at a loss to explain why those words seemed to ignite a raging fire within him, setting his very core ablaze and making his vision turn everything around him into a blood red, the exact color of his anger. There was no context to them at all, he had not a clue as to what was going on, but they pulled at his primal veela instincts, signaling danger- not to himself, but to the one he cared for the most in the entire world.

_Ichigo_.

It didn't take but a millisecond for his eyes to focus onto two figures at the end of the corridor, one pressed against the wall while they obviously tried to maneuver around the other that was planted firmly in the way, looming over a head of sunset-colored hair. The scene made Grimmjow grind his teeth together audibly and one hand to curl into a fist while another made to retrieve the hawthorn wand hidden up his right sleeve, but he approached cautiously, still having enough wit to take in the situation before hexing the male far too close to his Ichigo for comfort.

"Don't be like that, Ichigo, I only wanted to ask if you would accompany me to Hogsmeade next weekend," Koga Kuchiki, who Grimmjow recognized as a Slytherin the year below him, said.

"The answer's no, now let me by," the orangette said, again trying to circle around the other to free himself from his position trapped against the stone wall.

"Can't you give it a tad bit more thought than that?" Koga said, reaching a hand out to grasp a lock of nectarine hair in his fingers, which turned out to be the straw that broke the Hippogriff's back.

Grimmjow strode down the corridor, his outrage making bright blue sparks of magic to burst from the tip of his wand that he completely ignored. He couldn't believe someone had the audacity to put their disgusting hands on what was rightfully _his_.

A wave of possessiveness unlike any other washed over him, leaving him nearly breathless as the two males looked his way, one with irritated aqua green eyes and the other with startled hot chocolate brown. It took everything within his admittedly limited pool of self-restraint not to reach out with bare hands and throttle Koga right there on the spot, and in fact he only succeeded by reminding himself that should he seemingly overreact to the situation he may just spook Ichigo, something despite his wild nature he was determined never to do.

"Can I help you?" Koga said, looking at the older student with a look of distaste that Grimmjow was dying to knock right off.

Rubbing his thumb in soothing circles around his wand, the blue-haired Slytherin took a deep breath before answering, calling upon his proper pureblood upbringing in order to compose himself.

"Sorry to interrupt your pathetic attempt at flirting, but I was sent to bring Ichigo back to the dungeons with me for detention," he said, grinning ferally at the brunette, pointed canines making the presumably friendly gesture into nothing but an animal baring his fangs at his enemy. He wouldn't let this weakling make prey out of his Mate.

"Ah, that's right. You're the brute that managed to get my Ichigo here into trouble with that idiotic stunt you pulled."

_His _Ichigo?

Grimmjow thought it was a downright miracle that his veela side didn't come out to claw and rip the pitiful excuse for a wizard in front of him to nothing but bits and pieces of macabre flesh.

"Shut your git mouth, Koga." Ichigo surprised the seventh year by pushing Koga aside rather roughly and stepping out and away from him. Grimmjow's chest nearly burst at the swell of pride he felt then, suppressing the urge to put an arm around the slighter boy's shoulder. "Leave it alone already, I'm _never _going to say yes."

Koga's beady eyes narrowed and he frowned deeply, looking back and forth between the two others before turning on his heel and stomping away, muttering a "whatever" under his breath. It didn't escape Grimmjow's notice that another sixth year waited for him at the end of the corridor, one with icy eyes and sickly pale skin.

"Hey..." Ichigo's voice was rather small as he spoke, especially for him, and when Grimmjow turned back to look down at him, the orangette was staring at the floor, a hint of his earlier blush at the Quidditch match staining his skin with the lightest of pinks. "Thanks, you know, for... that."

The veela just shrugged indifferently, stashing his wand up his right sleeve again for safekeeping.

"Sure, whatever," he said, though it was slowly killing him inside not to be able to thoroughly interrogate his Mate about what had been happening before he'd shown up. "He bother you a lot?"

Ichigo snorted at that.

"Only recently," he said, shaking his head slightly. "Must've heard I was easy or something."

Grimmjow was grateful that for some incomprehensible reason the other's presence calmed him just enough that he was able to simply growl under his breath, too quietly for Ichigo to hear.

"Well, I guess it's off to detention then," Ichigo said, with a small smile that sent the blunette's heart into overdrive and coaxed a matching one out of Grimmjow, inner veela purring at the sight of his Mate's smile and the way it made his ever so lightly freckled, apricot-skinned nose wrinkle just the slightest bit.

"After you," Grimmjow said, gesturing with his arm that the orangette lead the way to the dungeons where the Potions master waited to deal them a 'fitting punishment' to two of his least favorite students.

Grimmjow followed Ichigo closely as they walked down the corridors, just like he always had, always there to be the boy's secret protector.

* * *

><p><em>Sometimes it seems that the going is just too rough<em>

_And things go wrong no matter what I do_

_Now and then it seems that life is just too much_

_But you've got the love I need to see me through_

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Finally, the fifth chapter! Hope you all enjoyed it~

Can you believe it's been _ten years _since the first Harry Potter movie came out? I mean, I was _nine_.

Do you guys have a favorite book in the series? Mine's _Half Blood Prince_. :3

Lyrics belong to Florence + The Machine.


	6. Amaranth

**Beta'ed by ArisuAmiChan**

_Chapter Six: Amaranth_

* * *

><p><em>I'm sleeping my way out of this one<em>

_With anyone who will lie down_

_I'll be stuck fixated on one star_

_When the world is crashing down_

_I keep telling myself_

_I keep telling myself_

_I'm not the desperate type_

_But you've got me looking in through blinds_

* * *

><p>Grimmjow thought it eerie how similar his current head of house and Potions master was to the man who'd held the position up until fifth year when he'd transitioned to DADA professor and then headmaster the year following. Though they'd never been closer than allies during troubled times, Grimmjow still wished he could've somehow stopped the death of the bravest man he ever knew.<p>

Then perhaps he wouldn't have to deal with Professor Byakuya Kuchiki, who seemed to loathe every student in his class, even the Slytherins. And he wouldn't have to sit achingly close to his Mate while the dark-haired wizard lectured them on why they were being punished, an agonizing monologue that felt like it would never end.

"Furthermore, your reckless actions caused damage to the historic Great Hall, which, if I must remind you both, was built a thousand years ago by the founders of the school. Salazar Slytherin, Rowena Ravenclaw, Helga Hufflepuff, and Godric Gryffindor used their own wands to lay the foundation and masonry of the place where they would gather the very first class of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," the professor droned on, pacing back and forth in front of the desk at which Grimmjow and Ichigo were seated.

"Bloody hell, he's even worse than Binns," the blunette said under his breath, a feeling of elation welling up in him when he heard his Mate's breathy chuckle before Ichigo muffled it with his hand.

"Do you have something to say, Jaegerjaques?" Kuchiki said coldly, stopping right before the edge of the students' shared desk. With his sensitive ears, Grimmjow heard the orangette's breath hitch and he raised his head to look up into the Potions Master's steely gray gaze, clenching his jaw in an effort not to retort with a smart-ass comment. He'd never gotten along with the fellow pureblood, whom he'd known before Professor Slughorn's resigned at the end of last term, that particular school year enough _excitement _to last the wizard a lifetime. Byakuya Kuchiki and Grimmjow's father, Hyorinmaru Jaegerjaques were actually distantly related, as a good percentage of purebloods tended to be, and so the half-veela had met the Potions professor years ago. But Kuchiki was the prime specimen of a wealthy, noble pureblooded wizard and Grimmjow took after his wilder veela roots, the exact opposite and barely able to stomach those obligatory, propriety-ruled pureblood functions.

"No, sir," he said through gritted teeth.

Kuchiki frowned slightly, his equivalent to a fierce glare, and crossed his arms, retrieving a slender birch wand from his robe's sleeve before pointing it to the back of the Potions classroom. Both Grimmjow and Ichigo turned their heads to see the stockroom door fly open and an orderly line of cauldrons barely recognizable underneath layers of multicolored grime. It was blatantly obvious to the blue-haired boy that they were the spares for the first years who were infamous for causing explosions every potion they attempted in class and his eyes widened in horror.

Surely, even cold-hearted Byakuya Kuchiki wouldn't be _that _cruel?

"I believe a fitting punishment for the two of you will be to clean the first years' cauldrons," the professor said before there was a sound of something being placed on the desk. "With these."

With dread in his heart, Grimmjow looked back to the desk to see sitting innocently upon it between him and Ichigo a pair of toothbrushes, the one closest to him a light blue and the other a bright orange. Apparently, Kuchiki also had a sick sense of humor.

Glancing over to his Mate, Grimmjow saw the boy was pouting childishly, tangerine brows furrowed and no doubt completely unaware of how endearing he looked just then.

"Keep in mind this will teach the both of you a lesson about the consequences of actions you take without thinking first," Kuchiki said as the cauldrons arranged themselves in a straight line along the stone wall before tucking his wand away once more. "Unfortunately, I am not available to supervise you as I have important matters to attend to but I will return in three hours to confirm all of the cauldrons are cleaned to perfection. Do not leave this room until then."

And with that, the professor spun on his heel and walked stiffly to the door leading to the dungeon corridor and exited, leaving Grimmjow alone with his Mate, a predicament that made the half-veela's heart thrum with both appeasement and longing. It was a torturous state to be in, that limbo between contentment and aching for more, and he was so close to Ichigo, close enough to-

"Well I guess we'd better get started, then," the orangette said, sighing and interrupting the other's train of thought (a good thing considering Grimmjow's restraint was wearing thin after the week of being near the one destined to be his.)

"Yeah, sure," Grimmjow said in a dishonestly nonchalant tone, standing from his chair and cracking his knuckles before snatching the blue toothbrush from the desk. "That bastard's even worse than Urahara."

"I think he just hates me," Ichigo said, laughing bitterly before copying the Slytherin and grabbing his color-coded toothbrush. Grimmjow had to swallow down his automatic reply of a string of curses damning anyone that could feel so negatively towards his Mate and Ichigo himself for thinking anyone could do so. He could only imagine the Gryffindor's reaction, assuredly so thoroughly shocked at such an overly emotional profession he'd have to be carted away to St. Mungo's.

"Nah, the git hates everyone, always has," Grimmjow said, waving a hand dismissively as the two of them walked to the back of the classroom. He let his gaze corner over to take in the sight of the beautiful orange-haired boy by his side, hating and loving the burst of pride and gooey, mushy adoration that followed. However, when Ichigo's hot chocolate orbs swiveled up to look at him, one inquisitive, nectarine brow arched, he steeled his lovesick gaze into his usual irreverent frown.

"You knew the professor before?" Ichigo asked, cocking his head to the side.

"Yeah; he and my father are like fifth cousins or something like that," Grimmjow said, hoping desperately the other wouldn't delve further into that subject. Surely a family history like his would scare away the orangette off for good.

"Oh right, you purebloods are always related some way or another," Ichigo said, chuckling softly and shaking his head, dropping down to his knees beside one of the cauldrons, this one covered in a thick purple ooze that couldn't even be traced back to any potion the Slytherin had ever heard of. Grimmjow copied the action, but knelt next to the next cauldron over, a good mass of the pewter metal hidden under layers of soot from an explosive potion making accident.

"Hey, I'm only half pureblood, you know," the blunette said without thinking. Instantly he began to mentally curse himself out for letting that slip, bringing his toothbrush to the bottom of his cauldron and beginning to scrub furiously.

"Me too." Ichigo's voice was soft and it seemed to call to Grimmjow with its hint of sorrow, the latter raising his gaze to survey his Mate's downcast expression, eyes appearing to look somewhere else entirely as the boy cleaned his cauldron listlessly. Before the half-veela could begin to think of what had caused the sudden change in mood, Ichigo spoke again. "My mum was a pureblood, from some really ancient Japanese line of wizards and witches I think."

Grimmjow didn't even realize he'd stopped scrubbing with his toothbrush as he listened to the orangette, incredibly eager to absorb any information about his Mate he hadn't already known from his years of watching the other from afar. He'd learned Ichigo's mother, Masaki Kurosaki, had been a pureblooded witch and that she'd been disowned by her family when she chose to marry a muggle, Ichigo's father. Due to his own past, Grimmjow also recalled that Mrs. Kurosaki had been an incredibly powerful witch whose ties to Japan had attracted the attention of Voldemort himself, but she'd blatantly refused to join him. Eleven years after the deceased dark wizard's first defeat he'd made good on his promise to make her suffer for her refusal and while his soul had lived in another's body traveled to the Kurosaki home along with trusted Death Eater Antonin Dolohov.

From what Grimmjow had heard, the woman had been tortured then killed unmercifully before Dolohov had burned the house down to the ground. However, this was only after they'd been unable to find Masaki's twin sons who they had planned on using to mentally torture the witch as she'd apparently used a powerful cloaking spell in order to keep them safe.

The blunette grew angry at the knowledge his Mate had been in that amount of danger and that the fallen Dark Lord and his disciple had caused Ichigo so much pain by taking away his mother, who Grimmjow could never thank for keeping the orangette safe when he hadn't been able to.

It was only the other's voice speaking again that saved the blue toothbrush from being crushed into pieces by the death grip the half-veela had on the thing.

"She married my dad; he's a muggle, a doctor," Ichigo said, smiling minutely before looking up with sparkling, bemused cocoa brown eyes. "You know what that is, don't you?"

"It's a muggle healer, right?" Grimmjow asked, frowning in thought and looking up to the ceiling, trying to remember all those times Szayel had prattled on about his Muggle Studies class, though the pink-haired Slytherin would never say aloud it was his favorite due to his lineage and his assigned House.

"Yeah, that's right," Ichigo said. "So is your mom a muggle too, then? I thought they only let purebloods in with the snakes."

Grimmjow froze. What was he supposed to tell the other boy? If he told him the truth, then Ichigo would figure out half of him wasn't human at all and would possibly be freaked out by the revelation, though his kind-natured demeanor said otherwise. But, at the same time, the seventh year knew it to be impossible to lie to his Mate.

"No, she... isn't a muggle," he said after a few long moments, using his peripheral vision to take in Ichigo's puzzled expression.

"But I thought you said you were only a halfblood?"

"And I am," Grimmjow said, turning his gaze back to the soot he was cleaning off the cauldron, in enough agony at the possibility that the other male would condemn him for what he was, just like so many others, that he couldn't even look at his Mate. "My mother isn't a muggle and she isn't a witch or a squib."

There was a long pause of silence before Ichigo's quiet voice sounded again.

"Then...?"

"My mother's a veela, which makes me half-wizard, half-veela," the blue-haired teenager said quickly, bracing himself for what he now considered an inevitable reaction of distaste; products of interspecies relationships, halfbreeds, weren't exactly held in high regard in the wizarding world.

The ensuing silence was even longer and tore Grimmjow apart with every second that passed.

"So... does that mean you can fly?" Ichigo said finally and the query was so unexpected, the half-veela whipped his head around to stare at the other with widened, unbelieving eyes.

"That's what you want to know? You don't care that I'm not... completely human?" he asked, voice choppy as he suppressed the bliss that instinctively rose up within him at the unbelievable notion that his Mate wouldn't spurn him due to his status as a halfbreed.

For some reason he couldn't fathom, Ichigo's cheeks flushed pink and that warm, ochre gaze drifted to the side and to the floor.

"Well, yeah. I mean, do you have wings?" he mumbled, seemingly embarrassed.

"Yes, I grow wings when I transform," Grimmjow answered, rubbing the back of neck uneasily. He'd never spoken of his veela transformation to anyone besides his mother and her sisters. "That doesn't, I don't know, freak ya out a little?"

Ichigo shook his head, eyes raising up to meet the older boy's. It was the closest they'd ever been, save for those half-ass fights where the blunette didn't even make an effort to hurt the other. Their knees were almost touching as they knelt on the floor, facing each other and Grimmjow thought he could very well forget the entire universe just staring into those syrupy maple orbs.

"Don't tell anyone, but my brother - he was always really good at flying and I never got the hang of it, so when I was little I would wish that I... had wings," Ichigo said, voice nearly a whisper.

Grimmjow was speechless and marveled that Ichigo was the only one who could render him such.

They were frozen in time for a few too short moments before they both came to their senses simultaneously, hastily returning to their grime-covered cauldrons.

"Sorry, that was stupid," the orange-haired boy said after a second.

"No, it wasn't. We all had dreams when we were little kids," Grimmjow said, determined to keep Ichigo from believing anything about him was 'stupid.'

"Yeah, I guess," the other said, chuckling. "What did you wish for, then?"

The half-veela thought a little before answering.

"To get my acceptance letter and go to Hogwarts already."

Grimmjow left out that the main reason why was because it had been his only hope of again finding that little boy from Flourish & Blott's with hair the color of the sunset. Those years he'd spent before he had reunited with his Mate on the Hogwarts Express had been bearable at most, his inner veela screaming with the need to be close to his destined. It was just fortunate he'd reached majority after that incident on the train otherwise it would've been sheer hell. He'd only barely survived the summers when he returned to his family's manor and Ichigo to his own home outside of school.

"Sounds like my brother," Ichigo said fondly and Grimmjow narrowed his eyes and scrubbed harder due to the irrational jealousy he felt when his Mate spoke of his twin in such a manner. _He _should've been the one the orangette had been so close to since birth. "He couldn't wait to learn magic. He would even steal my mum's wand and try to copy her but he usually just ended up making everything around him explode."

Grimmjow just grunted in response, but was thoroughly taken aback at what Ichigo said next.

"Thanks for not asking about her, by the way," the Gryffindor whispered. "You're the first one to do that; everyone else wants to know how she died and then tell me how sorry they are. It's irritating."

"I know how that is, my mother..." the blunette paused, thinking of what he could say that would be truthful but not give any of his recent history away. He was _definitely _not ready for Ichigo to know that. "She was really sick for a while and anytime someone asked about her I wanted to rip their heads off."

In the corner of his eye, Grimmjow saw Ichigo look over at him, an unreadable expression on his lovely face, like a mixture of sorrow and confusion and something indecipherable.

"Would you rip mine off if I asked you if she was all right?"

The half-veela let a small smile pull at his lips. That was the only time somebody has asked about his mother whilst being completely sincere.

"She's been doing better. Veelas recover faster than wizards," he answered and watched in his periphery as the other nodded once and went back to work.

"So, if you're a... veela how come you don't have the entire school fawning over you instead of all the girls below sixth year?" Ichigo said a minute later, his tone light in what the blunette determined to be an effort to change the subject to a more pleasant subject matter.

"Says the one who has a fan club," Grimmjow retorted, smirking.

"Yeah yeah and you do t - wait, what?" the orange-haired teenager said, his voice nearly squeaking as he realized what the other had just said. "I do _not _have a fan club."

"If you don't believe me, go to the third floor girls' bathroom during lunch. I hear that's where they have their meetings."

"But that's... I don't even... _why_?"

Grimmjow refrained from listing all the reasons any living being would kill to be with Ichigo and instead rolled his eyes at his Mate's innocent obliviousness even though he truly found it a huge turn on.

"Why do they do anything? They're all insane," he said.

"I guess..." Ichigo shook his head, apparently giving up on trying to understand why a group of teenaged girls would start a fan club in his honor. "But back to my question; do you use some kind of glamour or...?"

Not giving it a second thought, Grimmjow reached with his free hand into his uniform shirt, pulling out the feather and ring bedecked necklace that he'd worn ever since his Aunt Hali had sent Pantera back with it.

"This makes me look as if I were a normal human," he said casually, puzzled when he saw that Ichigo was staring reverently at the magical piece of jewelry. "If I take it off then I'll change into a half-veela appearance."

"With wings?" the orangette said almost as if he were dazed, eyes never leaving where the chain on which the multicolored veela feathers and Mating rings were strung around Grimmjow's neck. The latter arched a brow but answered anyway, taking a risk just to see if Ichigo would react at all.

"And talons and fangs."

The Gryffindor opened his mouth then like he wanted to say something but then seemingly thought twice and closed it, tearing his gaze away and back to the cauldron.

"Why do you keep it a secret? Being half-veela, I mean."

Grimmjow glared at the spot above his Mate's tangerine head, an old memory replaying in his head; the time when his beloved mother had sat him down and explained why it was so crucial that he keep his blood status a secret. Prejudice had been the least of the reasons she'd given him, but it was the only one he dared tell the other boy.

"People don't exactly welcome halfbreeds with open arms," he said bitterly, grinding his teeth together audibly. "The school rules technically don't even allow me to be here but Dumbledore pretended he wasn't aware that I wasn't all human."

Ichigo didn't respond to that at first and Grimmjow saw the orangette bite his lip as he appeared to be deep in thought.

"I won't tell anyone; I promise," the sixth year said finally.

"Thanks... Ichigo." The Slytherin said the younger's name with the slightest trace of hesitance. Though they'd agreed on calling each other by their first names as a part of their truce they hadn't done so more than a few times since and it was still so strange to say his Mate's name aloud instead of just in his mind.

"You're welcome... Grimmjow," Ichigo said with a hint of a smile and the sound of his name falling from those perfect lips had the half-veela's blood singing in contentment. One day that beauty would cry out his name whilst in the throes of passion and writhing under him. Of that he was sure.

Minutes passed by as they worked on cleaning the first year cauldrons with their toothbrushes. Neither of them said anything but it was an easy silence, a comfortable one, one that should've only been shared by two people who'd known each other for as long as they could remember.

However, eventually Grimmjow's shallow well of patience ran dry and he threw his blue toothbrush to the floor, massaging his aching hand with the other. The sound caused Ichigo to look over at him wonderingly, ceasing his own scrubbing as well and letting his hands fall to his lap where the Slytherin spotted the red, somewhat swollen knuckles. It was only from years of practice that he managed to reign in his fury at Professor Kuchiki for indirectly harming his Mate. Instead, he reached into his left sleeve and withdrew his hawthorn wand.

"Grimmjow, what are you doing?" Ichigo said in a hissed whisper as if someone could overhear him. "Kuchiki will know if we used magic to clean the cauldrons."

"Yeah, and?" The blunette raised his wand, readying to cast the spell when the orange-haired teenager interrupted again.

"He'll punish us even worse! I don't want to be stuck doing this shit until I graduate."

"Relax, Ichigo. _If _he finds out, you're not going to get in trouble when I was the one who used magic," Grimmjow said, grinning wickedly before wordlessly summoning a powerful _Scourgify _that cast a film of soapy bubbles over every cauldron and washing away all traces of potions mishaps before disappearing and leaving in its a place a line of shined to perfection pewter cauldrons. It was a impressive bit of magic even if it was just a cleaning charm.

"I really don't think Professor Kuchiki is the type to excuse someone just because they're innocent," Ichigo said, scowling before throwing his toothbrush down and leaning back again the closest desk.

"Hn, I guess I didn't think of that," Grimmjow said, copying the orangette and resting his back against the leg of another desk. He felt a twinge of guilt at the realization he'd probably just gotten Ichigo into more trouble but lightened up when he reasoned the worst the Potions Master could do was assign them more detentions. And more detentions meant more time alone with his alluring Mate.

"Whatever, another five minutes and I would've done the same. I think the blisters on my hands have blisters," the orange-haired boy said, laughing quietly while inspecting the damage he'd sustained from the vigorous cauldron cleaning.

"You should go to the hospital wing, then," Grimmjow said instinctively, immediately rising from his position on the floor to tower over where Ichigo looked up at him like he'd lost his mind.

"It's just blisters, I'll be fine," the sixth year tried to convince the half-veela, not realizing any effort made on his part would be useless.

"How will you write in class tomorrow; with the quill in your mouth?" Grimmjow reasoned, trying to rid his mind of images of Ichigo with _anything _in his mouth. "Besides, we probably don't want to be here when Kuchiki gets back."

Apparently the thought of the professor returning to see they (Grimmjow) had disobeyed instructions was enough to persuade Ichigo and the boy nearly jumped to his feet, following the former out of the dungeon classroom.

It was a long walk to the Hospital Wing, which while located on the first floor was on the exact opposite of the castle. And it didn't really help things when every student the pair passed on their way stared at them with their eyes bulging out of their sockets, unable to believe that the two boys who'd been engaged in one of the school's longest and grandest rivalries would willingly walk side by side as if the past six years had never even happened.

Grimmjow could sense Ichigo's unease at being stared at, obvious in the boy's hunched shoulders and downcast gaze, and couldn't help but glare at every student who even glanced their way. Upon being subject to the Slytherin's ferociously intense glare every last one of them promptly looked elsewhere, some of them even squeaking in fright or fleeing in the other direction.

Madam Pomfrey was there to greet them, the Wing uncharacteristically empty which evidently left the mediwitch bored and therefore happy to see the two students enter.

"Back so soon, boys?" she said, smiling brightly though proper decorum would dictate she shouldn't be so pleased to see people who were most likely injured or ill in some way. "What's happened now?"

Grimmjow allowed a few seconds for Ichigo to answer but when the younger male seemed to have trouble answering Madam Pomfrey, no doubt worried about revealing that they shouldn't even be there in the first place. What he didn't know, or at least didn't realize, was that Grimmjow had a few tricks up his sleeve.

"We were in detention, cleaning cauldrons for Professor Kuchiki when I noticed Ichigo's hands were red and swollen. He didn't want to leave and get into more trouble, but I made him come here so he could be treated," he said, letting the remnants of veela allure that his glamour couldn't hide completely emanate from a winning smile and glittering eyes. Even that little bit was enough to have Madam Pomfrey utterly smitten.

"Oh you dear boy! How sweet you are to look after your friend like that," she cooed, walking forward to pinch the blunette's cheek, which he allowed so as not to disturb the gentle enchantment he had her under. "Your girlfriend's a lucky one." She giggled like a schoolgirl and Grimmjow refrained from rolling his eyes and snapping at the older witch that he'd never have a girlfriend because he was bound by Fate to the one standing beside him who needed medical attention immediately.

"I don't have a girlfriend but thank you, madam. Now if you could see to Ichigo..."

"Yes, of course!" Madam Poppy switched into healer mode, guiding the two boys over to the closest bed and having the younger one sit down before taking his hands into her own. Grimmjow scowled as he saw that the blistering was worse than he'd originally thought but he wasn't surprised. He'd known for a while Ichigo was the type to suffer in silence.

"Oh my," Madam Poppy tutted, shaking her head. "Looks like whatever potion was on that cauldron was corrosive. Mr. Jeagerjaques was right to bring you straight here."

The half-veela snarled silently, picturing various scenarios in which he violently murdered Byakuya Kuchiki with his bare hands. Surely a Potions Master would've known that the cauldron in question was covered in residue of a potion that would cause injury to a person's skin should they touch it.

"But no worries," Madam Poppy reassured them both. "A little salve and you'll be good as new." She beamed up at Grimmjow before hurrying off to her store of medical supplies.

Once she was gone, Ichigo spoke up.

"You can go back to your dormitory, if you want," he said, words almost murmured.

"Oh, uh, you sure?" the Slytherin asked, wishing Ichigo would say no and beg for him to say there with him no matter how impossible it was. His veela blood pulsed with the need to remain right where he was and assure that his Mate was attended to properly and would be all right, but Grimmjow knew he couldn't push things with Ichigo, the boy was innocent to the older's burning desire for him and the ways of intimate relationships. He had to take it slow.

"Yeah," Ichigo said, nodding, not looking at the half-veela, unaware of how it drove a knife through the other's chest.

"All right, see ya tomorrow night then," Grimmjow said, shrugging his shoulders like he didn't care either way. With every bit of inner strength he possessed the boy spun on his heel and began to walk away from his Mate.

"Hey," the orangette's soft voice called out to him and knowing that it was not a plea for him to stay, Grimmjow merely turned his head to the side, eyes gazing down at the floor instead of meeting Ichigo's. "Thanks for telling me about... you. I don't know why you did, but like I said, I'll keep it a secret."

Not trusting his voice, Grimmjow nodded once curtly and then fled the Hospital Wing.

He never knew how he was able to leave Ichigo each time they were together and yet he still managed to do it. The only plausible reason he could think of was that he subconsciously knew that in the end, it would all be worth it.

In the end, Ichigo would be his.

* * *

><p>Ichigo lay in bed that night with bandaged hands resting atop his abdomen, looking at the richly red canopy above him but not really seeing it, visions of the most brilliant shades of blue and feathers flitting through his mind's eye.<p>

All of his dormitory roommates were fast asleep, their soft snores falling on deaf ears as Ichigo kept repeating another's words spoken in a deep, rough velvet voice.

When he should've been worrying over his Transfiguration essay due the next week or again trying to figure out his brother's odd relationship with his fellow Gryffindor or even working on ridding himself of his worst memories, Ichigo was thinking about Grimmjow Jaegerjaques.

And he was pissed.

At who he wasn't sure. He wanted to be angry with his former rival for surely pulling some mind trick to render him unable to think of anything else but the blue-haired Slytherin. But, for some unfathomable reason, he couldn't. It was strange to say the least. The past six years he'd had no problem associating Grimmjow with negative emotions and yet it seemed his whole being rejected the premise when he tried to summon those feelings again.

Ichigo thought it must be because the blunette had earlier shared what was most likely his deepest secret. To be a halfbreed was no easy thing, even after Voldemort's defeat. The orangette could recall having heard about the Ministry's less than positive opinions of those with non-human blood integrating with pure humans, which ignited a fiery outrage within him. That attitude was no different than how Voldemort and his Death Eaters' regarded muggles and halfbloods.

Why had Grimmjow told him he was half veela? They were nothing more than acquaintances at best, former enemies at worst. Why would the boy he'd fought with for years trust him with a secret that could potentially ruin his life as he knew it should it get out and why why why did he share his own childhood dream that not even Shiro knew about? It didn't make sense.

And this was why Ichigo couldn't sleep, couldn't even close his eyes and try.

Inexplicably, the notion that Grimmjow had shared with him something so intimate made his chest feel tight and warm in a way far different than his occasional bouts of sickening panic attacks. It actually felt... incredible and further confused the Gryffindor, making him frustrated beyond belief.

Not to mention there was this nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach and the back of his mind that he wanted to see the half-veela as soon as possible, now even. And that definitely didn't make any sense considering the only times they saw or spoke to each other was during detention and Ichigo certainly wasn't fond of those.

Turning over onto his side, he glanced outside of the window to see the moon was already far past its halfway mark in the sky, a sign that he should've been sleeping for a few hours by now and would no doubt resemble the walking dead the next day.

Determined to put this Grimmjow thing out of his mind so that he could at least get a couple hours rest, Ichigo decided in an effort to understand why his thoughts constantly centered around the blunette he'd make a trip to the library the next day after class and do some research.

Apparently his brain was satisfied with this and allowed the orangette to drift off into sleep. Never mind that until morning his dreams starred his current vexation, including one in which the older male was shirtless and dived into the waters of the Great Lake. And never mind that Ichigo woke up with a predicament that had him blushing furiously and pretending to be asleep until his fellow sixth year Gryffindor boys left for breakfast before getting out of bed and rushing to the bathroom.

* * *

><p>The library was peacefully quiet, Ichigo noted gratefully. His lack of sleep induced headache was slightly soothed by the silence and the dim atmosphere. He almost collapsed into a very comfortable-looking armchair to pass out in, he was so tired but he was all too aware that until he found out why the one he was supposed to at least dislike wouldn't leave his thoughts alone for just a moment he would never be able to rest.<p>

After placing his bag on an carrel, Ichigo aimlessly walked through the aisles of the thousands of books the castle's library held. The truth was, he had no idea where to start. He knew the system used to sort books by heart now that he'd made use of it himself to organize Urahara's 'research material' but he couldn't even begin to think of just _what_ he was looking for.

Perhaps something on-

"Oof!" a feminine voice said as the orangette, completely lost in thought, bumped into another person (who evidently hadn't been paying attention either.) Ichigo's train of thought disappeared as he flew backwards onto his rear, picking up in his slightly disoriented vision a great number of books fly up into the air before thudding heavily onto the ground.

"I'm sorry!" he and the person he'd bumped into said at the same time. Ichigo scrambled forward, collecting the fallen books and handing them to that person, going into shock when he saw just to whom they belonged.

The wild mane of chestnut curls, wide brown eyes, and pleasantly pretty features were only too recognizable. There wasn't a soul in the wizarding world who wouldn't know who _she _was.

"Are you all right? I wasn't looking where I was going, I'm sorry!" she said, rushing through her words as she extended a hand which Ichigo accepted, letting her help him to stand.

"No, no, I should've been paying more attention," he said once the first wave of surprise wore off and mortification took its place. The girl smiled slightly, readjusting the mountain of books in her arms.

"I can see we're at a stalemate, then," she said before biting her lip nervously. "I feel as if I should know your name since you're in the same house as I am, but I can only recall that it's foreign..."

"It's Ichigo Kurosaki. I'm two years under you so the fact that you know that much is pretty good," the sixth year said, chuckling as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"Ichigo, that's right. But to correct you, I'm only one year above you now." The brunette's grinned good-naturedly. "To be polite, I'll introduce myself as well. I'm Hermione Granger."

"Yeah, I know," Ichigo said even though it was undoubtedly obvious he knew who she was, and what she had done for that matter.

"Well, I should be getting back to studying for my N.E.W.T.s." Hermione went to walk around Ichigo and to wherever she had been headed in the first place but the latter realized that if anyone could point him in the right direction, it would be her.

"Could you help me? I know you're probably busy but I was looking for some books on veela..." Ichigo trailed off, feeling incredibly awkward asking such a revered person for something so mundane.

"Veela?" Hermione tapped a finger to her lip as she appeared to think for a second before answering. "You'll want the far left corner of the library, the sign will say 'Magical Beasts and Creatures' and there's a big copy of _Magical Creatures and Where to Find Them _open on a stand. I think the books specializing on the veela are at the very top, to the right."

"Thanks, I would've never been able to figure it out on my own," Ichigo said, wondering just how much time the girl had spent in the school library.

"You're welcome," Hermione said. "And if you need to find something else, you can ask me; Madam Pince's been in a horrid mood all week. I'll just be over there, by the globe."

Without another word, one of the heroes of the wizarding world flounced her way up an aisle before dropping her stack of books onto a desk by the globe she'd mentioned already filled with volumes. Ichigo shook his head before taking off in the direction Hermione had pointed him in.

It was another minute before he rounded a corner to see the section of books under the mentioned 'Magical Beasts and Creatures' sign. Almost immediately, the orangette deflated as he took in the sheer amount of texts the library boasted on the broad subject and dragged his feet as he approached where the sliding ladder rested.

As Ichigo soon found out, you could only comfortably carry one book when you descended the ladder considering every single volume that looked promising was half his size. This meant he spent two hours picking books off the shelf and after thoroughly scouring their pages for information on veela (which was actually very scarce and repetitive) until he finally found something interesting in an ancient text entitled _Rare Magickal Creetures_.

_**Veela and their Mating rituals**_

_The veela are infamous for their practice of lifelong intimate relationships, all of which consist of a veela and a magickal human. They are also renowned for the otherworldly devotion and adoration they possess for the one who becomes their 'Mate.' It is said that no other being can love more deeply or more thoroughly than a veela, though knowledge on the subject is scarce and inconclusive. _

_It is not known for certain how veela choose the humans they 'Mate' with, the only information gained by heresay that the veela say Fate picks one for them and once they first lay eyes on this possibly destined human they 'know' without a trace of doubt that they were meant to be 'Mates.' There have been instances recorded in historical texts in which the fated humans develop an overwhelming infatuation with the veela before knowing the creature's intentions toward them. _

_It is notable that the veela race refers to their human lovers as 'Mates' and the arcane, clandestine rituals in which they magickally bind their very beings together as 'Mating.' There is very little wizards know about these rituals, the species being a secretive one who convince their 'Mates' to also never speak of their traditions and customs with someone who possesses no veela blood. However, in the fourteenth century one 'Mate' under the influence of an excess of wine let slip that he and his veela beloved were bonded together in Mind, Body, Heart, and Soul. It has been speculated since that these unknown rituals involved some beastly magick in which the 'Mates' are connected irrevocably with an ancient form of a powerful enchantment. _

_Miraculously, this intoxicated individual was also documented chanting one word over and over, believed to be, _though no such word is known in any human language, '_Epoximise.' _

Ichigo scowled down fiercely at the thick book in his hands before snapping it shut.

"Well that wasn't any help at all," he muttered, placing the text on the pile of books he'd already flipped through. His eyes traveled over to the ceiling-high window, the view showing the sun disappearing the horizon of the Forbidden Forest, no doubt the time drawing near to dinner.

His stomach's hungry growl at the thought of food decided it was time he abandon his research for now in favor of nourishment. The reason his feelings about and for Grimmjow would have to wait for their explanation another day, or two if Ichigo fell asleep before he could complete that Transfiguration essay (which wouldn't be good at all considering he had detention with Kuchiki that night.)

On his way out of the library, the orangette spied his fellow schoolmate and war hero Hermione still bent over her desk, copying something from a massive book. He grinned a little at the sight of the only student in all of the history of Hogwarts that studied for N.E.W.T.s in October.

Later on, after Ichigo had finished his dinner and was heading to the Gryffindor common room in order to work on that essay before he had to leave for detention, he was stopped on one of the staircases by none other than Professor Kuchiki. The boy's blood ran cold at the look the older wizard gave him as a pale hand gripped his shoulder.

"I'm afraid you won't have time to return to your dormitory at the moment, Kurosaki. Tonight your detention will be a bit... unorthodox."

* * *

><p>AN: Yes, Ichigo's a little dense, lol.

But seriously, has anyone else noticed the similarities between Byakuya and Snape? They both have detached, icy exteriors, dark hair, hate on the protagonists of the series (Ichigo, Harry) but really have their backs, lost the loves of their lives, work under hidden agendas, and are morally ambiguous until their true intentions are revealed at a climactic moment.

Lol, can you tell Severus Snape is my all-time favorite HP character? He was one of the true heroes of the series, I think. And he has a small role in this story even though he's dead. T^T

If you know where those lyrics are from, you're awesome. :D

_'Epoximise' is actually a spell from the Harry Potter trading card game used to bind two things together. I'm using it in here a little differently. ;P _


	7. Electric Crimson

**Beta'ed by ArisuAmiChan**

_Chapter Seven: Electric Crimson_

* * *

><p>As it turned out, 'unorthodox' translated to 'mad, dangerous, and possibly fatal.'<p>

Ichigo could only stare with wide brown eyes at what was to be the location of that night's detention, unable to believe a professor as propriety-oriented as the Potions Master would send two of his students, no matter how much he disliked them, into the Forbidden Forest. It was pure insanity.

After he'd snared the orangette on the stairs, Kuchiki had led him straight out of the castle and across the grounds, ignoring Ichigo's question of where exactly they were going. And as they had passed the quaint hut belonging to the Gamekeeper, Rubeus Hagrid, the teenager's gut had clenched with dread. He'd then been positive that Kuchiki was leading him to the expanse of thick, towering trees that symbolized the line between safe and perilous ground.

Since the war, Ichigo didn't do very well in situations posing real threat.

"Ah, Mr. Jaegerjaques, so nice of you to join us," Professor Kuchiki said icily from beside the orangette, breaking the spell of disbelief so that Ichigo turned his head to catch sight of the familiar, alluring figure of Grimmjow. His stomach jumped when the other boy's sharp blue gaze, brighter than the moon above, locked onto his and easily sliced right through him like a _Diffindo _charm.

Ichigo abruptly tore his eyes away. The half-veela had been occupying his thoughts far too often recently, almost constantly and to say it unnerved him would definitely be an understatement.

Grimmjow merely grunted in response to the older wizard's greeting, hands in his pockets, earning him a very minute, almost invisible twitch of Kuchiki's eyebrow.

"How eloquent," the professor sneered. Then he reached with one pale hand into the dark sleeve of his robes, withdrawing his wand. A quick flick of his wrists summoned from thin air a roll of parchment and another swish sent golden sparks from the tips of his wand, conjuring what looked liked a carpet bag an elderly woman would carry. "For tonight's detention period the two of you will be collecting ingredients in the forest. You will-"

"Have you gone completely mental?" Grimmjow's gravelly voice interrupted the Potions Master and Ichigo glanced over at the half-veela to see him frowning deeply, aquamarine orbs glittering in displeasure. "You can't send students into the forest to do your damn dirty work."

This time Kuchiki's entire face twitched for a few moments until it smoothed as he regained his composure. Ichigo, however, was still slightly slackjawed from hearing the blunette speak to a professor in such a manner. Sure, Grimmjow had said far worse to him, but Ichigo had guessed the other boy had more common sense being raised as a pureblood and all.

"You will refrain from speaking to your superiors like such in the future, Jaegerjaques, or you'll suffer much greater consequences than a few detentions," Kuchiki said, sliding his wand back into the folds of his robe. However, Grimmjow didn't appear fazed, a expression of contempt on his attractive face. "As I was saying, you will use this bag on which I've placed an undetectable extension charm to collect all the items on this list. I will return in three hours time to this very spot."

The professor turned on his heel and walked a few steps away before pausing to glance over his shoulder at the two students.

"Oh, and please proceed with caution while in the forest. There are few things in there who haven't yet had their dinner." Kuchiki then continued in his retreat back to the castle, walking so swiftly that within a few seconds he was out of sight.

It only took a moment after that for Ichigo to snap, tangerine eyebrows knitting together in a fierce scowl as his outrage reached its boiling point.

"That psycho bastard! Has he lost his ever-loving mind? This is student cruelty!" Ichigo said, his temper flaring to a place where his mind was running too fast for his mouth and so he instinctively switched to Japanese, spitting out essentially the same phrases of malcontent towards the Potion Master in the exotic language. When he had run out of steam, the orangette suddenly remembered that he had an audience and his face began to burn. Bashfully cornering his eyes to where Grimmjow was regarding him with an unreadable expression close to amusement.

"You're cute when you speak Japanese," the half-veela said, his trademark grin stretching his lips.

"E-excuse me?" Ichigo sputtered. Grimmjow grinned wickedly before snatching the carpet bag and roll of parchment off of the ground.

"It's a compliment, Kurosaki. Just accept it," he said.

Ichigo frowned but said nothing, He didn't like being called 'cute' in the first place but for some reason it especially bothered him that Grimmjow possibly saw him as being so. He didn't want the Slytherin to think of him as something as flippant as 'cute.' He wanted Grimmjow to take him seriously, see him as... important.

"Well, are you coming or what?" Grimmjow's call to the other teenager pulled Ichigo back to reality to see the other a few steps ahead, holding the carpet bag with one hand resting on his shoulder and the roll of parchment in the other. "It's getting darker by the minute and we wanna get this shit done as quickly as possible, yeah?"

"Yeah," Ichigo muttered, jogging up beside Grimmjow so that they fell into step with each other as they crossed into the Forbidden Forest. The trees here were massive, so tall you couldn't see the tops and thicker than a giant's leg but with fair distances between them. Moss and roots carpeted the ground and there was a gray, almost unnatural mist hovering in the air and making it near impossible to see more than twenty feet ahead.

Ichigo reached for his wand, pulling it out of his pocket and feeling a pleasant sense of comfort as his fingers grasped the well-worn holly wood. He uttered a quick _Lumos, _a sphere of light blooming at the tip of his wand. He then looked over to Grimmjow, the boy's gait and posture casual though his eyes warily scanned the area around them like a hawk.

"So, um... what's first on the list?" Ichigo asked as they continued to trek deeper into the forest.

The blue-haired boy flicked his wrist, letting the parchment unfurl on its own and Ichigo let a moan of dispair slip from between his lips upon seeing its full length neared two feet, all of the space filled with an agonizingly detailed list of needed potion ingredients and directions on collecting them. Beside him, Grimmjow ground his teeth together audibly in obvious irritation with the Potions Master and their current situation.

"Bloodroot, twenty five stems. Handle with care," Ichigo read off of the top of the list.

"You have any idea what the hell that is?" Grimmjow said.

"It's a white flower, grows under tree roots," the Gryffindor said smugly. "I actually paid attention in Herbology class, unlike _some _people."

"Yeah, well _some _people might've thought that was the best class to take naps in."

"Is that so?"

"Those were the most comfortable desks in the whole bloody school," Grimmjow said, training his winning, predatory smile onto the other boy. Suddenly they both heard a sharp _snap_. Ichigo jumped, tightening the grip on his wand and looking around the menacing setting of the forest almost desperately. Grimmjow was staring off the left intensely, as if he was looking directly at whatever had caused the noise but when Ichigo looked he saw only trees and mist.

The orange-haired boy lay a hand on his clenching stomach, his heart alternating between fluttering lightly and pounding hard against his ribcage. He _really _didn't like being in the forest. Who knew what was watching him right at that very moment from the shadows?

"You all right?" Grimmjow said, unaware of how the sound of his deep, husky voice soothed the anxiety coursing through Ichigo's veins. The sixth year took a deep breath, reminding himself of the fact that this time he wasn't alone and then gave the blunette a shaky grin.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Ichigo said though the way Grimmjow didn't say anything, his gaze fathomless like he was trying to see through the other, told him that the half-veela didn't believe him. "I just don't like being in here, creeps me out."

Grimmjow again didn't respond but he did finally release Ichigo of his ardent pair of sapphire orbs as he faced forward and then nodded once.

"What, doesn't this place give you the creeps too?" the orangette asked, following directly behind the other boy even though his view was blocked by broad shoulders. "I mean, with all of the... _things _that are in here."

"It doesn't bother me," Grimmjow said, shrugging.

"Is that because you're a veela, so you like... nature and stuff?" Ichigo said, realizing how lame he sounded asking such a stupid question afterwards.

"I don't know, maybe." Grimmjow stopped and the other was forced to as well lest he collide into the blunette's back. "Where did you say those bloodroot things grow?"

"Under tree roots, usually big ones above ground."

"They'll be farther in then," Grimmjow said almost to himself and resumed treading through the forest with a Gryffindor hot on his heels who was dying to ask the half-veela about what he'd read about the race of magical beings not that they'd gotten onto the subject, but not really sure why he wanted to know so badly.

"So... I was reading this book in the library, about veela," Ichigo started cautiously, not wanting to offend Grimmjow by phrasing his query the wrong way and was relieved when the other boy grunted to signal for him to continue. "It said something about veela having... mates."

Ichigo could've sworn he saw Grimmjow falter in his step but if he had then he'd recovered quicker than the orangette thought possible.

"And?" the blunette said.

"Well I was just wondering if it was true, that veela have these lifelong mates they fall in love with on the spot." Ichigo held his breath as he waited for the answer and yet he still wondered _why _in the name of Merlin's beard he cared so much.

"Yeah, it's true."

"Oh," Ichigo breathed, and though he had been expecting that to be the answer he felt something like an electric spark course through him. But there was one more thing he had to know. "Grimmjow, do you... have one? A mate, that is." Ichigo hated how hesitant he sounded, like the issue currently being discussed was life or death. He heard Grimmjow inhale sharply, a telltale sign of what the answer would be and his heart stilled when those incredibly blue eyes swirling with a kaleidoscope of emotion glanced over the Slytherin's shoulder.

Was it supposed to have felt like the whole world had suddenly just stopped? And that the two boys were the epicenter, everything still and silent and waiting with eager eyes?

Because that's what it felt like to Ichigo, who had to use every bit of his will power and strength not to look away from those blue daggers pinning him to the very forested ground he barely registered standing on. He felt like he wasn't even on Earth but spinning and twirling in the atmosphere, completely disconnected to everything except for the blue-haired force of nature before him

Probably not the normal response to the situation, but Ichigo had never been normal and wasn't going to start anytime soon.

Finally, _finally_, there was an answer.

"Why do you want to know?" Grimmjow said, voice painfully controlled and it was then that Ichigo noticed they'd stopped walking and were now standing face to face.

"Y-you don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I was just curious," Ichigo said and while their direct eye contact was entirely too powerful for two acquaintances, he couldn't break it for anything. There was something beyond words holding their gazes together and Grimmjow's aura darkened after the other's words, dazzling crystalline sapphire dulling to flat cobalt and then he was turning away and Ichigo's breath rushed out between his lips. It felt like a part of the orangette had suddenly vanished, leaving an incomplete boy behind.

"Yeah, I have a... _mate_," Grimmjow said as he walked up to one of the biggest trees they had seen yet, giant roots bursting from the soil underneath. His last word had been whispered so softly Ichigo had strained to hear it.

_That was it, then - t_he answer Ichigo didn't even know he'd been waiting for with a life or death kind of apprehension.

Ichigo thought Grimmjow seemed awfully apathetic as he confirmed he had someone in the world somewhere whom he supposedly loved unconditionally, a person to whom he'd devoted his entire self and he viewed as the single most important element in the whole universe. But somehow the idea of Grimmjow thinking of anyone in that way just seemed so... wrong.

"Oh," was all Ichigo was able to utter, watching as the blue-haired boy lowered himself to kneel beside a place where the large, moss-covered tree roots intertwined together a few inches in the air over the charmed dirt ground of the forest. After a second Ichigo realized he looked like an idiot, just standing there as Grimmjow set the carpet bag on the ground beside him and after parting the handles to open the enchanted small piece of luggage, reached in until his arm was submerged up to his elbow.

Watching his former hated rival bathed in the moonlight at that moment, right after he'd revealed something so... _intimate_, Ichigo shivered and goosebumps appeared on his flesh.

There _had_ to be a reason he was reacting this way, but Ichigo just couldn't figure out why...

The orangette knelt down to Grimmjow's right, listening to the distinctive sounds of glass clinking before the Slytherin withdrew his arm, holding a glass jar with a cork stopper and handwritten label reading 'Bloodroot stems.'

"So we just pull the bloodroots out of the ground and put 'em in here?" Grimmjow asked, keeping his gaze fixated on the glass jar rather than his detention companion. "'S not too hard." The half-veela then reached under the tree roots where the white flowering buds were clustered together and grasped several of the stems in a harsh grip.

"No!" Ichigo cried out before he could stop himself. Managing to keep a firm grasp on his wand, he clasped his hands over Grimmjow's larger one to stop the other, who looked at the orange-haired boy in mild surprise. Ichigo felt his face grow warm, faint embarrassment undoubtedly staining the tip of his nose and the planes of his cheekbones a deep, creamy rose and he shifted a bit, uncomfortable, but he held fast. It was like little beads of heat like wand sparks made of pure, raw magic were pulsing at the place their hands met. "You have to be careful with the stems. If you crush them, there won't be any juice left in the stalk. Here, like this."

Ichigo gently loosened Grimmjow's grip on the bloodroot stems, trying to ignore the electric pulses that seemed to be radiating from the other's hand that had him suppressing shivers, and guided the other's boy's fingers so that they delicately plucked the white buds and their stems from the ground. In a moment of perfect stillness he raised his eyes from where their hands were joined and into the intense cobalt stare that had been unfathomably sublimely plaguing his conscience. It was sweet agony, aching and heavenly, and Ichigo found he could barely stand it.

He dropped the blunette's hand as if it had burned him and ripped his eyes away, setting about plucking more bloodroot stems from the soil as if nothing was amiss.

"Good thing you're here or Kuchiki'd have me out here every night collecting these damn things," Grimmjow murmured, dropping the already collected stems into the glass jar from the bewitched carpet bag.

"Yeah, good thing," Ichigo said quietly.

They continued their work in relative silence and Ichigo wondered if he should've never asked Grimmjow about his mate, concluding that he _definitely _shouldn't have. Not only did it seem that he'd struck a nerve with the other half-veela, turning the usually loudmouthed, brash individual quiet as a lethifold at midnight, but now the orangette couldn't stop imagining what the other's mate was like. Were they female or male? Blonde or brunette? Were they kind? Caring? Did they attend Hogwarts as well? Did they notice how Grimmjow's eyes darkened and lightened according to his mood, or even how simply, purely, amazingly beautiful they were and how-

Ichigo was barely able to reign in his expression of surprise upon realizing just how far his mind had gotten off track. Since when had he noticed how 'beautiful' Grimmjow's eyes were? He'd spent years looking directly into them and not once had he ever made a note of them besides the fact they were blue - a fathomless, entirely bewitching blue, that is. And _why _was he spending so much time reflecting on the possible traits of Grimmjow's mate. It didn't make any sense, not at all.

They worked for a little over an hour speaking as few words as possible to each other. Ichigo wasn't sure why, but ever since he'd brought up the subject of Grimmjow's mate there had been a slightly uneasy tension between them. Not exactly an unpleasant one, but it was definitely noticeable, the invisible strings pulled taught.

It wasn't until they had gotten almost all the way down the list, down to where 'Horned Toads' was written in elegant script, that anything happened that was... out of the ordinary, so to speak.

"You mean we've got to catch these things?" Grimmjow growled, scowling at the parchment as he read off of it. Ichigo allowed a small smile to cross his face, pulling at his lips. "How the bloody hell do we do that?"

"Idiot, all you've got to do is cast a freezing charm on them," Ichigo said, chuckling little. "Then you can put them in the jars."

"All right, so then where do we find these suckers?"

"Well, they're nocturnal so they should already be out and about, on fallen tree logs most likely," Ichigo said, walking forward and further into the forest, feeling Grimmjow follow him, enchanted carpet bag slung over his shoulder.

It didn't take long to find a group of horned toads were gathered together on a mossy log, croaking loudly on their perch. As they spotted Ichigo approaching in an attemptedly surreptitious manner, their croaks grew in both pitch and rate and their thoraxes bulged in order to try and scare away the wizard predators. When the Gryffindor came within three feet of the toads, Grimmjow only a step or two behind, they collectively leaped off of the log and fled for their lives, croaking bloody murder.

"Hey, come back here!" Grimmjow said in a vexed snarl, the ridiculousness of the heart-throbbingly masculine half-veela ordering the diminutive amphibians to do his bidding causing Ichigo to laugh out loud.

"Come on, chasing them is the best part!" Ichigo said, only just managing to refrain from grabbing Grimmjow's hand before he took off jogging after the escaping horned toads. He felt, rather than heard, the other boy lope after him, his footsteps inhumanly silent. _Must be the veela in him_, Ichigo thought as he spotted one of the toads hopping behind a tree trunk. Grinning, he sprung for the poor thing and wrapped his hands around it's slimy, wriggling body. The ticklish and weird sensation made Ichigo giggle and the toad squirmed in his grip, desperately simultaneously trying to get away and stab the boy with his two pointed horns.

A deep chuckle had Ichigo turning his head to see Grimmjow looking on with a peacefully amused expression, a half-smile on his perfect face. The humored sparkles in those orbs a deeper blue than the Great Lake brought a huge grin to Ichigo's lips and he held out the aggravated toad at arm's length and directly into the other's face.

"Got the cage for my little buddy here?" Ichigo asked whilst Grimmjow raised one arm to block the other from touching him with the toad and gave a short laugh.

"Yeah, just give me a second," the blue-haired wizard said, dropping the carpet bag to the ground in a careless action Ichigo that usually would've sent the latter into a Type A, chastising rant, or would have if he'd even noticed. Grimmjow opened the enchanted carpet bag and reached in with both hands. He withdrew a small, wire cage labeled '_Horned Toad - handle with caution when acquiring mucus secretion_.'

"Gross," Ichigo said, sticking out his tongue in distaste. Grimmjow opened the little door and the sixth year made to lower the horned toad into the cage when he suddenly had a better idea. In an action too fast for even the half-veela to process, Ichigo bypassed the cage and using his pinky finger to widen Grimmjow's shirt collar, let go of the slippery, slimy toad.

"What the-!" came Grimmjow's shocked yell, the Slytherin dropping the cage to the ground and backing away a few steps. He immediately began jerking his body around in comical convulsions, dancing from foot to foot as he grabbed the hem of his uniform shirt and shook it in hopes of dislodging the small creature trapped between the fabric and his undoubtedly chiseled torso. Ichigo didn't stand a chance; he burst out laughing out so hard his peals of laughter echoed around the forest. Tears sprung to caramel brown eyes and Ichigo bent over to clutch his contracting abdomen with one hand, his other clasping his knee.

With a indignant croak from the toad and a grunt of relief from the blunette wizard, Grimmjow reached under his shirt and tore the magical amphibian from underneath the fabric, his broad hand able to hold the horned thing in one palm.

"You little... argh," Grimmjow growled, eyes rising from the toad in his hand to the other teen still laughing raucously at his prank. Ichigo raised the hand from his knee to his mouth in order to stifle his chortling but when Grimmjow's irritated frown morphed into a wicked, scheming grin his eyes widened and the orangette instinctively took a step backwards. Both of his hands then went palm out in front of him, putting on his most pleading expression.

"No, Grimm, don't - don't!" Ichigo exclaimed even while Grimmjow advanced with big, menacing strides, horned toad still in hand. "C'mon, it was just a- ah!" Once Grimmjow was a few steps away, Ichigo gave up reasoning with the other male and turned on his heel, instantly beginning to run for his life. He swiftly accelerated to a sprint, dodging trees and roots begging to trip him, Grimmjow's sadistic cackling sounding behind him. It was infectious and within seconds, Ichigo was laughing with glee as the half-veela, half-wizard chased him through the forest.

A minute passed and it was then that the Gryffindor realized that his own laughter was ringing so loudly in his ears he didn't notice the absence of Grimmjow's presence right behind him. Chuckles abruptly stopping, Ichigo slowed to a steady jog and whipped his head over his shoulder. His brows furrowed in confusion upon seeing nothing but the dense, dark foliage of the forest the heavy fog allowed his eyes to perceive. Ichigo unthinkingly stopped short, turning his head in every direction to try and catch sight of a head of hair or pair of eyes so blue they were practically luminescent in the dim, wooded atmosphere.

Nothing.

"Grimmjow?" he called out tentatively, the familiar tensing of his stomach quick to respond to his rapidly growing worry and anxiety. There were so many dangerous entities in the Forbidden Forest and any number of them could have snatched his detention partner without a trace. Oh Merlin, what if...

"Grimmjow!" Ichigo shouted. "This isn't bloody funny! Come out right now or I swear I'll leave you here!"

It was getting harder to breathe, like his own lungs wouldn't cooperate. Ichigo reached into his pocket and took out his wand, a growing certainty some one or some _thing _was watching him from where he couldn't see them. His grip tightened like death itself on the holly wood, his only line of defense between himself and whatever was out there. Though it was admittedly a pretty damn powerful one.

A preemptive _Protego _was on the tip of his tongue when enticingly warm breath tickled the back of his neck.

"Boo."

Something slick and squirming and _gross _slid its way down Ichigo's back from the nape of his neck down to the base of his spine and the sixth year jumped about a foot in the air, squealing in a very undignified manner. He nearly lost his wand as he wriggled about, arms bending behind him so that he could rid himself of the icky feeling of a horned toad's slimy, webbed feet and bulbous body on his back. The toad again fell from out of the fabric of a shirt, landing upright and giving an outraged croak before hopping away as fast as it could.

Ichigo spun around and shot such a fierce glare at the guffawing Grimmjow it would've froze over the pit of a volcano, but the blue-haired veela merely smirked widely.

"You started it," Grimmjow said simply.

"Oh, what are you- five? I was really sca-...!" Ichigo's words were cut short when his mouth clamped shut, his scowl deepening (if that was possible.) However, there was a sense of serenity washing over him now that he saw Grimmjow was okay and he hadn't been left all alone in the forest. His racing heart calmed and his muscles relaxed, losing the tension anxiety brought on.

"You were really what?"

"Nothing!" Ichigo said, mentally cursing when he realized that he'd retorted far too quickly. "Let's do what we were told so we can get out of here. I need _some _sleep tonight, you know."

Grimmjow didn't respond but the smirk did disappear, those full lips pressing together as he nodded once in agreement. But the next second brought that spine-shivering inducing grin back to his face.

"Then let's go back and get 'em. You said something about a freezing charm, right?"

In a slightly unnerving mood swing, Ichigo's only reply was a _Lumos_-bright smile.

* * *

><p>If Grimmjow had thought fighting or talking or even just being with his Mate was a euphoric nirvana, he'd never been prepared for what it was like to laugh and play around in what he could only hope was a flirtatious way with the boy. But chasing the stunning orangette around with particularly vicious horned toads, watching him squawk and squeal without ever losing that heart stopping smile and make an utter fool of himself lunging for the slippery amphibians, the both of them laughing uncontrollably?<p>

Now _that _was something worth living for.

Grimmjow was certain if he could see what he looked like with that big, goofy grin on his face and blue eyes undoubtedly shimmering with stupid little hearts in the facets he would have AK'ed himself right then and there. Or, well, he would have if that wouldn't have meant never seeing Ichigo again.

_Merlin, why did his veela blood turn him into such a simpering, lovesick sap?_ Ichigo could barely even stand to be around him! They were only spending time together as a _punishment_ for Godric's sakes and surely that was how Ichigo saw the entire ordeal, being in the company of his former rival only a part of the repercussions earned from their magnificent duel that'd done significant damage to the Great Hall and apparently injured a few students not bright enough to back away from two powerful wizards duking it out.

But... Ichigo _had _to like him _somewhat_, even as just an acquaintance. Why else would the Gryffindor use up his scarce free time to read up on veela?

And then, of course, there had been _that damn question_.

Needless to say, after the word 'Mate' had left Ichigo's dollish lips, utter and complete shock with hints a fear and the tiniest dash of hope had coursed through Grimmjow's veins. He hadn't known what to say at first, but he'd always known he couldn't ever in a thousand years lie to his Mate, so he'd told the truth. Sort of.

He was ashamed to admit that he'd wished with all his might Ichigo might have figured it out right then and there, that the boy _was _that Mate ever since their first encounter at _Flourish and Blott's _all those years ago and always would be, no matter what. Grimmjow Jaegerjaques would love Ichigo Kurosaki until the world ceased to exist and even after that. It was in his blood, his core, his very being. He only needed to find that place deep within Ichigo that felt the same.

Easier said than done, of course.

"Hey, Grimm!" Ichigo, voice simultaneously exhausted and cheery, called to him from a few yards away where he was putting a horned toad, frozen stiff under the effects of a freezing charm, into the cage. Oh, and don't think Grimmjow hadn't noticed his new nickname. He only knew that if he pointed it out in that teasing manner that was second nature to him, Ichigo would stop addressing him as such and he certainly didn't want that. "That was the last one. Should we head back to the castle now?"

Grimmjow was surprised that the other was asking him for his opinion instead of out-rightly stating what they should do or even doing it without so much a word in the blunette's direction. Nevertheless, he hid it exceedingly well with a blank expression due to six years of disguising his true feelings from his Mate.

"Yeah, here, hand me the cage," the half-veela said, hands outstretched toward the approaching sixth year who placed it in his hands gently, the taller of the two disappointed when their hands didn't even brush against each other with the action. Grimmjow then knelt down by the enchanted carpet bag and opened it, seeing the dimly lit abyss of what looked like a well-organized yet chaotic pile of glass jars and cages filled with other small animals. He carefully lowered the horned toad cage into the space, setting it atop another enclosure holding a rather hostile Cornish pixie.

The seventh year only managed to stand up again when his keen senses caught a peculiar scent on the wind. It was different than Ichigo's essence of warm honey, sugar, vanilla, gingerbread, and autumn leaves and was vigorously overwhelming it with a heavy musk of firewood and a hint of a distinctively bestial odor. Grimmjow's entire frame stiffened and his teeth clenched in his now ticking jaw, eyes darting warily from the trees around them and the orangette at his side, whose left eyebrow was now arched in obvious bafflement.

"Grimm, what's-"

"Be quiet for a second, Ichigo," Grimmjow hissed under his breath, his hand slipping under his left sleeve and withdrawing his hawthorn wand. Fortunately, the infamously stubborn as a hippogriff orangette's eyes widened to saucers but he obeyed, not moving a muscle. When his sensitive ears heard the slightest of noises to their right, a hoof against a dead leaf, he almost broke his wand in two as his grip tightened into a white-knuckled fist.

"You're not as smart as they say if you think I can't hear you," Grimmjow barked to what appeared to be a relatively deserted piece of forest and he saw out of the corner of his eye, Ichigo tense and raise his own wand, subconsciously edging closer to the other male. It was clear the orange-haired boy had not a clue as to what was going on but he didn't have to wait for very long when merely a second later a towering figure appeared from the dense, gray mist, followed by an unnerving ten more.

They easily cleared ten feet, the lower part of their bodies was recognizable as equine and from the hips up the beings looked as human as any normal wizard or muggle, but they were all strangely male. The leader and the two flanking him were holding knocked bows, the tips of the arrows pointed directly at the two students, and the other eight either had their readied weapons lowered or hadn't bothered to knock their arrows at all, bows, quivers, and a few loops of rope hanging from their shoulders. Unable to control every last bit of himself, Grimmjow growled lowly through his gritted teeth - a warning.

He didn't particularly care for strong magical beings, centaurs, so close to his Mate.

"You have good ears, _wand waver_," the leader said steadily, his arrow never moving from its aimed position. "Certainly with them you must have heard by now that wizards are no longer welcomed in the Forest?"

"You can't dictate that, we're allowed to be here; after the war this was declared free land by the Ministry," Ichigo said, bravely contesting the centaur's accusation even as Grimmjow heard his voice tremble under its defiant tone. While Grimmjow was proud of the orangette for holding his ground, he nearly sent a disbelieving look in the other's direction. The blunette knew he could fend for himself using his duelling skill if the centaurs attacked them but he didn't want to take the chance to find out if he would once again be able to keep Ichigo safe from harm.

"Hah, you wizards still think we listen to what _your_ government has to say," the centaur to the leader's left said in clear distaste, spitting to the side. "We spit on your _Ministry_."

A few of the other centaurs laughed but it only served to darken the aura around them rather than lighten it. One of these centaurs, a look to him a little wilder than the rest with his pure ebony mane and equine body, stepped forward from his place toward the back of the group, reaching behind his back for an arrow and causing Grimmjow to take a step closer to the left, his free arm bending at the elbow as it was held in front of Ichigo.

"Bane, why are you breaking rank?" the leader addressed the advancing centaur, sounding almost as if he knew the answer.

"Obviously those foul wizards haven't gotten the message that this is _our _forest," Bane said calmly. "I think it would be a good idea to send them our own message, about what happens to those who trespass in our forest."

Even as there was a tense silence in the air, Grimmjow's mind was racing. Though many wondered if he would've ever been placed in Slytherin if not for his pureblood heritage due to his nature being much more animalistic and feral than any of the other serpents, or any average wizard for that matter, but Grimmjow was far more clever and cunning than he let on. In a fraction of a second he'd already considered every offense, defense, and even escape strategy possible and came to the inevitable conclusion that he couldn't protect Ichigo.

Or, at least, not in his current form.

Unsurprisingly, Ichigo was a bit startled when Grimmjow thrusted the wand of hawthorn into the sixth year's hands but the blunette didn't meet those enlarged maple syrup brown eyes, instead taking in several centaurs' surprised expressions at his actions, a few of them turning wary. Taking a deep breath, Grimmjow slipped his hand under his shirt and felt for the chain around his neck.

"Stay out of the way, Ichigo. No matter what happens, don't interfere and don't you _dare _try to fight them," Grimmjow whispered out of the corner of his mouth although he continued to evade making eye contact with his Mate, keeping his gaze trained on the eleven centaurs merely yards away. "Do not lose this, it was my mother's."

And with that, Grimmjow roughly tore the chain over his head, a necklace full of multi-colored rings and feathers made into pendants appearing from underneath the crisp, white fabric of his collar, and in the same action he lowered over that head of spiky, tangerine hair and onto Ichigo's neck.

The sudden removal his _glamour_'s effect was immediate. In simple terms, Grimmjow's turquoise blue hair lengthened to fall in attractively messy, wavy locks over his shoulders though his infamously tousled strands over his forehead stubbornly remained, his already magnificent eyes intensified to a beatific blue, the purest blue anyone anywhere had ever seen and teal markings appeared underneath them, running along the lash line to flare out at the ends like a version of a more colorful Egyptian eyeliner. His six foot one frame grew a staggering half a foot, so that he stood just three inches below seven feet tall and luckily his clothing had changed as well, leaving something resembling a one-shouldered, short tunic worn in ancient times made of deep navy blue fabric. Glimmering golden armor covered his brawny, bronzed forearms up to his knuckles and there protective plates on his knees and elbows made of the same metal, his feet adorned in metallic gladiator sandals. Then there were the two physical alterations of sharpened, pointed incisors showcased to their full potential in a silent snarl and his fingernails had elongated into dark blue talons like that of a bird of prey's.

Then, of course, there were the _wings_.

Massive, they unfolded to span a magnificent twenty feet, and they were feathered like a bird's as well, but they were far from ordinary. The feathers on those wings were every shade of blue in the whole wide world, a gradient scale starting with ocean fathom blue so dark it was nearly black at the place they were attached to Grimmjow's flawless back and lightening gradually until they were the palest of baby blues at the tips. The other unique aspect of those feathers, as on any veela's wings, the ones adorning the exterior were nearly indestructible, hard and razor sharp - so much so that one need only gently tap a point or edge to pierce flesh draw blood.

But these are all parlor tricks compared to the veela's true power - beauty.

Where a remarkably handsome youth had once stood, now there was a vision of a blindingly, ethereally, angelically, unimaginably, heartbreakingly, devastatingly beauty so pure it could drive one absolutely, insanely mad just from one mere glance. Grimmjow Jaegerjaques, despite being only half-veela, was positively radiant, brighter than the stars, the moon, and the sun. He was more than perfect, he was beyond what any human mind was capable of imagining, and _that _was not his blessing, but his curse.

Grimmjow was all too aware of his Mate's eyes on him, seeing him in his true form for the first time, but the half-veela couldn't look at Ichigo. He didn't want to see what might be in those warmer than sunlight sepia orbs; the possibility of alarmed trepidation in those depths as the one he loved finally realized he wasn't entirely human too much for Grimmjow to deal with, especially when he had a fight on his hands to protect said loved one.

The centaurs were all gazing at him, some blatantly showing their disbelief in their dropped jaws and large eyes whilst the rest controlled themselves and remained composed. However, none of them lowered their weapons, rather all of them now either preparing their bows or lifting them to aim the arrows straight for the mystical being that'd appeared right before their eyes. Grimmjow was pleased to note they'd all seemed to forget about targeting Ichigo for the time being and in a show of aggression, he beat his wings in the centaurs' direction and sent a huge gust of wind their way. It wasn't enough to bowl them over but it did knock four or five a few steps back.

After several moments, the information that their enemy was not only a wizard, but of veela blood, sank in and the lead centaur frowned at Grimmjow, though the shuffling of his back hooves gave away his unease.

"A veela," he said. "Unsurprising, no wizard would have heard us approaching."

"This is no veela!" the centaur named Bane spat aggressively. "No beak, no lower talons, and not only does that prove he is just a half-breed but look - no Mating stone upon on his hand; he's nothing but a fledgling."

The leader's gaze traveled to the three places on Grimmjow's body Bane had mentioned. "It appears you are right, Bane. We need not fear a half-blooded veela; he is still half a wizard and he has arrogantly tread upon our land... " the leader said as if speaking more to himself than anyone else before raising his voice to address his entire herd of centaurs and letting his arms slowly fall to his sides so his arrow pointed downward. "Let us send that message to the wand wavers and their Ministry. Kill the veela, then his wizard friend. Do your best to make it quick and painless. Regardless what those Ministry scum think of us, we are _not_ animals."

Grimmjow hadn't heard a word after the lead centaur ordered the others to kill him and Ichigo. It doesn't need saying that he couldn't have cared two flobberworms if they wanted to kill him but the very, passing thought that anything in the universe wished Ichigo, his Mate, harm had him seeing a vivid, crimson red. The sensation was the same as when he'd been twelve and that Dementor had preyed on the then eleven year-old.

Instinct, primal and raw and all-consuming, took over his entire body, his muscles coiling and flexing and mind clearing and focusing as he prepared to fight and defend to the death.

Nothing mattered except eliminating the threat.

Five arrows shot through the air, impeccably aimed for his weak spots - chest, throat, head - (not surprising considering centaurs were known for their skill in archery) but Grimmjow flapped his leviathan wings once and easily ascended twenty feet into the air and they flew right underneath his sandal-clad feet. The half-veela didn't hesitate a fraction of a second before he darted over to where Ichigo stood in a determined stance, wand at the ready.

A short gasp was all Grimmjow got from the orangette as he wrapped an arm around the other male's slim waist and pulled Ichigo up thirty or so feet off the ground and flush to his body. Their eyes met. More arrows were shot their way but they bounced harmlessly off of those armor-like wings, Grimmjow and Ichigo far too helplessly trapped in each other's gazes to care about such trivial things.

That moment, those eyes, their solitude. Something was different. Something had changed. Grimmjow could feel it in his bones. Their silence spoke volumes. And there was an indescribable, unnameable, and unreal but blissful _something _there between them that hadn't been there before. Grimmjow's heart literally _ached_ even though he was holding Ichigo in his arms, closer than ever, and he knew it was positively insane and downright impossible but he could've sworn he saw his own immeasurably devoted adoration, his _love_, staring right back at him.

The one thing that could've broken through Grimmjow's feral state of mind distracted the half-veela enough he didn't sense the arrow aimed for his calf, the only part of his body not protected, in time. Fortunately, his veela form's flesh was multiple times tougher than his human's and the centaur's arrow only scraped the tawny skin but the painful sting had Grimmjow reluctantly tearing his gaze away from the boy in his arms to train tempestuously storming bluer than blue eyes on the centaurs, who were now merely feet away on the ground beneath them.

Let's just say that Grimmjow's veela blood didn't much like the fact an arrow had been able to so much as graze him and, even more so, that the potentially lethal projectile had been so close to injuring his Mate. He opened his mouth, baring his fangs and letting loose his species' signature intimidatory move, a noise that was a mixture of a snake-like hiss, a bird of prey's screech, and a lion's rumbling roar. The deep sound echoed for miles through the Forest, bouncing off tree trunks and sending creatures and beasties scurrying back into their dens. Grimmjow felt Ichigo shudder and tightened his hold though he didn't look back in order to survey the effect his roaring screech had on the centaurs. Some of them dropped their bows and held their hands over their ears, the others struggled to maintain their composure even as their hooves shuffled and their tails swung back and forth.

Now that they were thoroughly rattled, Grimmjow would make sure they would pay for threatening _his _Mate, and the fact they'd underestimated him since he was only 'a fledgling halfbreed.' Holding Ichigo with one arm, he lifted one hand to face level, fingers splayed.

"Don't!"

Grimmjow's inner fire halted in his veins at the command and he would've been confused had it been one person who'd spoken but unless his ears deceived him (unlikely) two separate voices had said the single word. He glanced down to Ichigo, whose lovely face showed the Gryffindor was just as baffled as he was and it was then that he heard the additional four hooves on the forest ground and not only that, but a pair of feet.

His head whipped to the right side to where two figures, different in shape and size, step through the mass of trees and dense fog.

"P-professor?" came Ichigo's shocked voice from under his chin but Grimmjow couldn't blame the orangette. He'd never expected to see the apathetic, stuffy Professor Kuchiki in the Forbidden Forest (or at least not when he had students to do his dirty work for him) and _especially _not side by side with a _centaur_.

"Firenze?" a centaur called out in equal surprise and Grimmjow deduced that was the new centaur's name, who boasted white-blond hair and blue eyes and appeared perfectly calm walking in step with the just as serene Kuchiki.

"Firenze, what are you doing with one of _their _kind?" the centaur leader demanded whilst the two newcomers halted approximately ten feet away from the herd. The one named Firenze, also apparently the owner of the other voice that'd cried out for Grimmjow to hold fire, cleared his throat before gesturing to the Potions Master.

"This is one of the professors from Hogwarts, the school for-" he started but was interrupted by another.

"We know very well what that _school_ is for," Bane cut in bitterly. "How can we forget when it was you, our brother, who insisted you were morally obliged to share with those wizard brats _our _knowledge of Divination?"

Grimmjow's eyes narrowed as he took in the visibly tense, to say the least, relations between the sole centaur and the rest of the herd. He could feel Ichigo's soft breath on his half-naked chest and was forced to try his best to ignore that _and _their divine closeness, however hard it was.

"Yes, Bane, I would expect it of you to remember," Firenze said firmly, apparently not as timid as first expected. "I had also hoped you would've remembered we fought alongside those 'brats' this past spring but it seems you have a less than functional memory."

Bane started forward, growling at the other centaur, but the leader stopped him with a clasped hand on his shoulder.

"Firenze, you know we do not tolerate those that condemn us as unintelligent beasts in our part of the Forest. It is for that very reason we are forced to show the wizarding Ministry what happens to those disrespectful and arrogant enough to do so. We need to be taken seriously, even if that means being a threat," the leader said levelly and to Grimmjow it was evident why that particular centaur had been chosen as the head of their herd; the way he spoke was reminiscent of his Aunt Halibel, logical and with an underlying passion.

"Forgive me, but is your thirst for vengeance upon all of their kind so great you would willingly murder a student, _a mere child_?" Firenze asked with a mixture of both disbelief and disgust. "Not only this but you have pointed your arrows at a man of inhuman blood. Has it not dawned upon you that the veela are experiencing the very same difficulties as our species? Why start another war we will not be able to win with our bows and knowledge of astrology?"

"You are out of line, Firenze," Bane snapped.

"He may be. However, I believe your saying such has more to do with your inability to develop an appropriate defense," Kuchiki said in his politely acerbic way and Grimmjow mentally raised the Potions Master up a notch in his book.

"No one asked your opinion, _wand waver_," Bane said, again moving toward the dark-haired, bored-looking professor but he was, again, held back by the centaur leader.

"The wizard up there, with the orange hair- he is an underage student of yours?" the leader questioned Kuchiki gruffly.

"That is correct. They are both students of mine and it was I who sent them into the Forest to collect potion ingredients as a punishment for their less than acceptable behavior," Professor Kuchiki answered swiftly, glancing up to where Grimmjow was still holding onto Ichigo thirty feet above them. "It is now apparent they are incapable of doing as they are told and staying out of trouble."

"You allow halfbreed children into the school?"

"If they have the potential for learning, no child is turned away from Hogwarts."

The lead centaur was mute for a moment or two, stroking his chin absentmindedly and staring blankly down at the professor as he appeared to think hard about the situation.

"Fall back, brothers. We are heading back to the den," he finally said and there was an instant burst of confused, disappointed, and angered protests from the other ten centaurs with whom he'd arrived. "Quiet. As I said before, we are not animals nor _beasts _who slaughter children or members of a race whose done us no harm. Fall back and allow the students to leave with their professor."

Listening to the muttered grumbles here and there, Grimmjow watched with hawk's eyes as the centaurs backed away from their circle around and underneath where he was still airborne, Ichigo, who looked lost in thought and thoroughly disconcerted with eyes downcast and lines marring his brow, safely tucked in the half-veela's arms despite his feet dangling three stories in the air.

The blunette didn't even entertain the notion of descending until all the centaurs but the leader and Firenze had disappeared into the misted woods, the rustling of their hooves on dead leaves and underbrush an acceptable distance away. Only then did Grimmjow beat his wings leisurely, letting gravity pull he and Ichigo to the ground. Grimmjow landed lightly and - though everything within him, wizard and veela, screamed at him not to - set his Mate on his own two feet, immediately missing the Gryffindor's warm body pressed against his.

And what was even worse? Ichigo seemed to be doing everything he could to not look at him, his gaze firmly set on the forest floor, or maybe his shoes. Scowling, Grimmjow reluctantly turned his head over to the two centaurs and Professor Kuchiki, the former two speaking in low whispers (pointless really, considering he could every single word anyway.)

"You had only just managed to gain the trust of our herd again, Firenze," the leader was saying. "After this, I am afraid you will have to start over from the beginning."

"Understood," Firenze said.

"Do not follow me and your brothers back to the den until you have made it clear to these three I will not be so merciful should I catch any one of them in _any _part of the Forest."

"I shall make sure of it."

Grimmjow watched as the centaur leader nodded once and then galloped off, vanishing into the flora in an instant and leaving he and Ichigo alone with Firenze and Kuchiki.

"You have my thanks, Firenze. If you hadn't taken it upon yourself to find me at the castle, Hogwarts would now house two less students," he said and though his tone was as uptight as always, the Potions Master inclined his head the slightest bit and Grimmjow was taken aback by the motion, considering in all his years of interacting with the man at family functions and such he'd never seen nor heard of Byakuya Kuchiki, most pompous wizard alive, doing anything of the nature. "I hope you will not face serious repercussions due to your generous actions this evening."

"I do not need nor deserve your thanks, it is one's moral duty to prevent bloodshed when there need be none and while I appreciate your concern, Byakuya, there is nothing about which to worry," Firenze said, smiling softly and then sighing. "Even after the war, my brothers grow more temperamental every day as the Ministry continues to restrict magical being and creature rights; everyday we lose more of our land to the Wizengamot's rebuilding project. Unfortunately, their indignation has grown so strong they are now misdirecting their frustrations toward the innocent."

For the first time since the seventh year assumed they'd shown up to stop what would have soon been an all out brawl between he and the centaurs, the professor and the centaur made eye contact with him. As expected the icy blues of Firenze and even those steely gray orbs belonging to Kuchiki glazed over for a moment and Grimmjow consciously summoned some of his inner strength and reigned in some of his veela allure, steely gray clearing closely followed by icy blue.

"I apologize for my brothers' barbaric actions. They should have never threatened either of you. I hope this will not color your opinion of us centaurs in the future." Firenze said, bowing deeply in a humble gesture Grimmjow didn't typically see in the pureblood world but of course knew of.

"Apology accepted," he said gruffly, still not keen on having a centaur, even a 'nice' one, so close to his Mate. Another moment passed, Firenze not moving an inch, and so Grimmjow looked over to Ichigo curiously, wondering why the orangette hadn't followed suit. Then it hit him, Ichigo was a halfblood, mostly raised by his muggle father; he had limited knowledge of the traditional customs of the wizarding world, especially strictly pureblood ones. Trying to hint Ichigo to what he was he supposed to do, Grimmjow coughed and gently nudged the other boy with his elbow in the arm. Ichigo still didn't look up at him but the blunette could just imagine the blush starting to heat up the boy's cheekbones and the tips of his ears as he realized his faux pas.

"O-oh, it's no problem," he murmured, eyes _still _on the ground. Grimmjow didn't understand what the issue was, only that he didn't like it.

"I am honored you have found it in your hearts to forgive us," Firenze said formally, straightening up. "However, the Ministry's increasingly deplorable attitude toward us and other magical races -"

Firenze's eyes flickered over to the half-veela. "- have pushed all of us to near a breaking point. It would be wise for all three of you to stay out of the Forest from now on. I do not believe I will be able to reason with our leader if there's a next time."

"I suppose I could make do with the supply of ingredients I currently possess," Kuchiki said. "Your warning will be heeded. You will not see us in the Forest again, Firenze."

"Good," the blonde centaur smiled half-heartedly. "Well then, Byakuya and students of Hogwarts, I bid you a good morning." Firenze didn't wait for a reply before trotting off into the wooded foliage, he too vanishing into the depths of the forest.

_Wait, did he just say 'good morning?' _Grimmjow thought, frowning and then raising his head toward the tree canopy where he was shocked to see rays of the bluish light of dawn streaming through the ceiling of leaves and branches. To confirm that it was indeed morning also meant he and Ichigo had spent the entire night in the Forbidden Forest, far surpassing their deadline, and Kuchiki had only recently decided to go in the forest himself to see what was taking the two students so long.

"Professor, did you really leave us out here all bloody night and only _now _just damn came to check we weren't dead or something?" Grimmjow demanded, the usual few traces of pureblood dialect in his speech now gone as tended to happen when his rage or frustration got the best of him and there wasn't really a need for a witty comeback. "Who the hell let you be a teacher?"

The ever infallible Kuchiki didn't miss a beat. He wasn't fazed in the slightest, he didn't even _blink_.

"Mr. Jaegerjaques, and you as well, Mr. Kurosaki, please gather the ingredients you collected so we may return to the castle. I believe breakfast will be served in an hour or so," the Potions Master directed, turning on his heel and totally ignoring Grimmjow's outburst, which was a little strange since he normally had a snide comment or two for the blue-haired Slytherin. In fact, Grimmjow was of the opinion that Kuchiki lived for those little thinly veiled insults and spent all of his free time thinking of new ones to use. The bastard probably even kept a list full of them stashed under his pillow or in a trunk's secret compartment that he took out after everyone was sleeping to read them in his bed and giggle all night long. A man couldn't be that composed and proper all the time like Kuchiki was unless they got their shits and giggles from something creepy like that.

Grimmjow repressed a shudder at the thought and took it upon himself to pick up the enchanted carpet bag twenty or so feet away, the thing somehow unscathed after all the commotion and much lighter now that he was in his veela form with which came veela strength. He cast a worried glance at Ichigo, whose head was _still _bowed down, the fringe of his adorably messy orange hair hiding most of his face and his arms were crossed in a sort-of self embrace. Grimmjow burned with the very sappy urge to sweep the younger boy into his arms and stroke his hair and whisper into his ear words of comfort or even just to ask his Mate what was wrong because not knowing was _killing _him.

The most likely reason was that they _had _been attacked by a herd of centaurs not too long ago and perhaps it had frightened Ichigo more than the persistently brave-faced male would ever show, or admit to. Being in mortal peril would unnerve anyone, and then the relief he'd felt when the centaurs had backed down could've caused a rapid decrease in the adrenaline brought on by dangerous situations, leaving Ichigo feeling more than a little shaken.

Or perhaps... perhaps what Grimmjow had always feared was coming true right in front of his very eyes. Ichigo had seen his true form, the undeniable proof of the inhuman blood that ran through his veins, that they were not really of the same race, and that Grimmjow possessed powers, fearsome ones, humans could never have or even begin to understand.

No matter how _'beautiful' _he supposedly was when in his veela form, Grimmjow knew Ichigo saw right past that to what he really was: a beast.

And what business did a beast have ever hoping for a human with blood pure as snow, untainted by any creature strains, to love him?

Grimmjow fell into step beside Ichigo, fifteen feet apart as they trekked through the forest after Kuchiki who looked over his shoulder at his halfbreed student/distant relative, whose wings were folded inwards, creating an arch over his head.

"Do not put your _glamour _back on until we reach the forest's edge," the Potions master said and then faced forward yet again, stepping gracefully over a large tree root. Grimmjow knew why Kuchiki didn't want him to hide his true self under the _glamour_ charm as his veela scent and appearance would stave off any predators still lurking about; his race was known for its savage, vicious way of fighting and veela rarely lost, leaving behind a shredded, burned carcass in their wake should someone or something cross them.

Any day before that one Grimmjow would have been mentally purring at the fact Ichigo held his custom wand made with a strand of his sky blue hair and that the sixth year was still wearing his veela family heirloom strung with feathers from his ancestors' wings and those pairs of Mating rings from the bonding ceremonies of so many lovers. But, of course, now that Ichigo was repulsed by his true nature there was no chance some day they would get their own personalized set of rings and bond and just _live together_, which was all Grimmjow had ever wanted.

The Slytherin felt his footsteps become heavier with every step, weighed down as his heart was slowly turning to stone. He was sure had he been alone he would've thrown a violent tantrum and broken and smashed everything in sight and he probably would later sometime that afternoon, when it fully hit him that Ichigo wouldn't ever be his and his world would implode around him.

_It wasn't fair. _Why did his mother have to be a veela and therefore bestow upon him the curse of living this half life? Half human, half creature, he was an abomination, and honestly a part of Grimmjow was happy Ichigo was disgusted by him, then he could fall in love with someone else, someone _human_, and live a life without all of the freakish attributes and duties a veela Mating bond entailed.

A cold, unsympathetic voice cut through his despondent train of thought.

"Perhaps during our stroll back to the castle, the two of you could explain how you managed to capture the attention of an entire centaur herd?" Kuchiki said, not sparing a glance back in their direction. "No ingredient nor instructions on the list would have required you to travel so far into the forest."

If the atmosphere been lighter, Grimmjow figured he and Ichigo would've shared a secret glance and stifled their laughter, but as it was the blunette couldn't bear to lay eyes on who he'd once hoped to be his Mate and he was sure Ichigo never wanted to look at him ever again. So, Grimmjow just grunted out a "Dunno," and was done with it.

Continuing his mildly uncharacteristic behavior, Kuchiki didn't respond or press the two students in his dry way for more information, rather falling quiet once more. The hike back to the castle grounds felt like an eternity and Grimmjow was almost relieved when they crossed the tree line into the bright morning sunlight.

"Now would be the time to replace your _glamour_, Jaegerjaques," the professor instructed. "The two of you may then report to breakfast and attend classes as usual."

A little dumbfounded and a lot pissed off, Grimmjow stared at the robed back of the retreating Potions Master, finding his voice after a good ten seconds.

"Oy, Kuchiki! Don't you want this?" he yelled after the older male, holding the carpet bag full of the ingredients he and Ichigo had spent the entire night collecting up in the air to signal that was what he was referring to. Kuchiki halted mid-step and with his keen sight Grimmjow caught the professor's lips twitch just the littlest bit - the beginnings of a smug smile.

"Don't be absurd, Mr. Jaegerjaques," he said. "What would I do with a bag full of potion ingredients I already have?"

On the verge of storming up the grounds to beat the potions professor into the ground, Grimmjow felt like all of his ire was sapped out of his body when a warm hand touched his elbow. Instinctively, his eyes drifted down to the head of nectarine honey hair now level with the middle of his chest instead of his chin and those pools of hot caramel freshly poured from a vat at _Honeydukes_ set in an enticingly dollish face continued to hide from him.

"Here," Ichigo murmured, proffering one outstretched palm that held both the veela heirloom necklace and the wand made of hawthorn. Grimmjow hesitated for a second and then swiped the two items out of the other's hand, successfully avoiding skin to skin contact.

"Thanks," he said under his breath, inhaling deeply and slipped the charmed necklace over his head. The enchantment worked its magic instantly, the otherworldly beautiful veela there one second, a handsome young man there the next. All within a measure of time too short to be named, his fangs and talons shrank back to human size and shape, the locks of his hair shortened to the tousled hairstyle that was somewhat famous around the corridors of Hogwarts, his height lowered six inches and his clothes morphed back into the Slytherin uniform, and the beatific veela allure receded, his beauty reigned into that of a good-looking mortal. The last thing to go were his wings; they furled in on themselves and if anyone had been able to keep up with the incredibly fast action they still would have had not a clue what happened to those beautiful, feathered appendages as it appeared they vanished into thin air, some unnatural movement visible under the fabric of Grimmjow's sweater the only sign that they'd retracted into the flesh of his back.

The blunette winced and rubbed his shoulder with the hand that wasn't holding his wand; it always hurt like a bitch whenever he had to retract his wings. But that didn't mean he was about to miss a certain Gryffindor slinking away from him, walking to the castle with, that's right, his head down.

Grimmjow ground his teeth together as he tried to reach a decision. He knew with absolute certainty why Ichigo was acting so strangely and that the boy no doubt wanted to get away from him as quickly as possible and probably never wanted to associate with him ever again so he didn't know why he was considering something so stupid. But _if _there was the _slightest _possibility Ichigo was so visibly upset for another reason, something Grimmjow could solve or get rid of or even kill for the boy... Well, Grimm never really had a choice then, did he?

"Ichigo, wait," he called out to the orangette, not liking how the other male stiffened like a scared cat, only without the straight tail, raised fur, and hissing. Grimmjow stopped four or five steps behind the Gryffindor, waiting patiently as Ichigo took his time to turn around and it was like the boy had forgotten how to lift his head up, eyes firmly staring at the dying grass below their feet.

"Yeah?" Ichigo's voice was as small as Grimmjow'd ever heard it.

"Can you look at me when I'm talking to you?" Grimmjow didn't mean for it to come out as harsh as it did and he instantly felt like scum when Ichigo started. But _finally _those big brown eyes met his and Grimmjow had a flashback to the second Wizarding War that past spring, when he'd secretly guarded Ichigo during the battle, and even on that horrifically traumatic day Ichigo had never looked so _scared_.

"S-sorry, I'm... tired," Ichigo said.

"No, argh, shit, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you, it's just... " Grimmjow trailed off, wondering how he should phrase his question and if this had been a good idea in the first place. "Are you... all right?"

All the responses Grimmjow had expected from the orangette didn't so much as come close to what he got.

It was like that muggle book Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Within the blink of an eye, Ichigo snapped from the timid, troubled doctor to the rabid, raging madman.

"All right! You're fucking asking _me _if I'm all. _Right_?" Ichigo shouted, his hands balling into fists and his eyes gleaming maniacally, glare burning smoking holes in Grimmjow's head. His entire being hummed with a completely unhinged aura and it rendered Grimmjow utterly speechless with shock. "You're a sick fucking _bastard_, you know that! I can't believe I-... that I... urgh!" Ichigo threw his hands up in the air, panting and evidently too angry to even form words. He whirled around with a wordless yell of enraged frustration and began stalking away, Grimmjow coming to his senses at last. The half-veela ran up to his would-be Mate and laid a hand on his shoulder, not exactly surprised when Ichigo turned and shoved him away, _hard_.

"Hey, what-"

"Shut up! Just shut the fuck up," Ichigo said, voice getting quieter as he spoke. "Leave me the hell alone, _Jaegerjaques_, and if you ever touch me again, I'll _kill _you."

* * *

><p>Grimmjow didn't know how the hell he ended up in the Great Hall. After the last three words Ichigo had said to him had registered in his mind, the Slytherin entered some kind of state of shock.<p>

It made sense, after all. After potentially lethal trauma the human body enters a stage called shock in order to prevent further damage and Ichigo had just dealt him a fatal blow.

Grimmjow was aware he had thicker skin than average, could shoulder more weight and endure more misery than most. He could have lived with the fact Ichigo would never be able to accept who he was, _what _he was, and he could have even survived knowing Ichigo was repulsed by his true nature as a halfbreed, but to wake up and remember every damn day the one thing that mattered most in the world to him _hated _him, that his reason for living wanted to _kill _him?

_He couldn't do it._

Grimmjow vaguely registered he'd crossed the Great Hall and now sat in his regular seat at the Slytherin table. Most of the students had already left to finish getting ready for their classes and directly in front of him was his favorite morning meal - a plate of fresh, hot biscuits next to a saucer of strawberry jam. Looking at it made him feel positively sick to his stomach and he placed his elbows on the table, resting his face in his broad hands in an effort to block out the inane chatter.

"Well, you look like shit."

Grimmjow didn't have to move his hands away from his face to know who was speaking to him.

"I know you never want to because you're all 'masculine' and whatever but... do you want to talk about it?" Szayel asked in a whisper. He'd always been able to tell when Grimmjow was troubled and knowing his best friend so well, when the fellow seventh year said nothing back he didn't push the issue. Instead, the pink-haired boy dropped a small, heavily stamped envelope onto the empty plate set in front of the other.

"All right, well I'm going to Transfiguration now but Pantera brought this the dormitory this morning. It's from your aunt, so maybe that will get you out of this _mood_," Szayel said, standing from the table. "And don't worry your pretty little blue head, I'll take down an extra set of notes for you."

"Thanks," Grimmjow mumbled, letting his hands fall to the table and looking up to dark yellow eyes behind white frames regarding him with veiled concern.

"Yeah, well, since I share a dormitory with you I have to look at you and this miserable, depressed look you've got going on is making _me _depressed, so I'm really doing this for me, of course," Szayel sighed dramatically, then wiggled his fingers in a wave. "Ta, Grimm." He then strode away from the Slytherin table like the Great Hall was a _Witch Weekly _fashion show and Grimmjow lethargically picked the envelope up.

It was indeed from his Aunt Halibel, the painfully neat script recognizable from a mile away. Grimmjow slid his finger under the sealed flap and tore through the envelope, plucking out the folded parchment inside and unfolding it.

_Please be good news_, he mentally hoped. He didn't think it was possible for one person to have more bad luck after what had already happened that morning. Forgoing reading the letter word for word, he skimmed over the lines, picking out certain phrases.

_Grimmjow,..._

_I hope this letter finds you happy and well..._

_Things here have not been going as well as we would have liked..._

_Your mother... getting worse by the day... thought it was the time to inform you... dying without your father by her side... _

_Ministry... Wizengamot... inflexible... infringing on veela rights... possibly will begin to intercept letters..._

_You know what needs to be done... time is running out... fight for him..._

_He is everything to you... _

_Yours,_

_Aunt Hali_

If Grimmjow was clinging to sanity by a single thread before, his aunt's letter was the pair of scissors to snip it right in half. He didn't realize he was headed to the astronomy tower until he'd stepped through the door and onto the tower platform, like he'd apparated but that was impossible.

He nearly collapsed onto the stone railing, hands catching him, one of them still clutching the letter tightly. He was panting heavily like he'd just run a marathon and he was fighting an encroaching blackness as if would lose consciousness any moment. Desperately he grabbed for his _glamour _necklace, trying to find even that small comfort but failing spectacularly. His body was slowly shutting down, energy leaking out of him like a broken dam and he slid down the short wall to kneel on both knees, pressing his forehead against the stone.

"FUCK," he roared like a dying animal, his curse at the world booming like thunder and with it, he was spent. He let himself crumple to the cold floor, swallowing heavily as his vision clouded with tears he refused to allow to fall.

"Ichigo..."

* * *

><p>Ichigo burst into his dormitory, the door slamming against the wall and causing the sole occupant to shoot up from where he'd been laying on the orangette's own bed to a sitting position. Gold on black eyes narrowed as a pale mouth opened but when Ichigo met his twin brother's gaze, Shiro's expression changed to one of surprise and concern and the orange-haired brother knew his beyond distressed mental state must be showing plain as day on his face.<p>

"Ichi..." the albino breathed, standing from the bed. Ichigo strode right by his sibling and threw himself on the bed face down.

"Leave me _alone_, Shiro," Ichigo hissed into his pillow, imagining the look of shock on his twin's mirror-image visage. Yes, Ichigo'd been moody before on the rare occasion, but despite his permanent scowl he really never became angry or lashed out at anyone (ironically, save for one certain blue-haired _prick_) and he had certainly _never _felt like _this_. This was different, and he knew Shiro could tell.

"Ya know tha's not gonna fly wit' me, righ'?" he heard Shiro say from above him then felt the bed dip as his twin sat next to him. "Jus' tell me wha's got ya like... _this_."

"I..." Ichigo trailed off, burying his face even further into his crimson pillowcase. How did he even begin to describe what he was feeling? How it seemed that one stupid moment in one stupid night had altered his very being, like he wasn't even the same person anymore? How could he explain to his brother how _everything _was suddenly different now when he himself had not even an inkling as to why? Ichigo lifted his head and turned to look at Shiro with watery eyes. "I feel like... like I'm losing my damn _mind_."

Shiro's pale eyebrows shot up into his equally colorless hairline. "Wha' tha hell d'ya mean yer losin' yer mind?" he said in a carefully even tone.

Ichigo shook his head frantically and pushed himself off the bed, clenching his hands in his hair. "That's the thing! I don't even_ know_. It doesn't make sense, nothing makes any sense!" The orangette's heart rate began accelerating at an alarming rate and it made his chest hurt.

Shiro rose off of the bed as well, approaching his twin with slow, cautious steps.

"Ichi, ya need ta calm down."

"Don't _fucking _tell me to calm down! I can't _calm down_," Ichigo spat resentfully, hands moving from his hair to grip his arms in the same self-embrace he'd been doing earlier.

"Okay, okay," Shiro said, stopping a good five feet away from the other boy, hands outstretched and palms out. "Why don' ya jus' tell me wha' happened las' night?"

"Well that's when all, or most of, this... _bullshit _started," Ichigo huffed, starting to pace back and forth. "Ugh, why did I ever agree to that stupid truce? I should've said _hell fucking no _and then none of this wouldn't ever have happened and I wouldn't be feeling like I need to be locked up in St. Mungo's!"

"Whoa, whoa, Ichi, let's jus' go over las' night, 'kay?" Shiro suggested and Ichigo nodded furiously.

"Okay, well that bastard Kuchiki sent us into the Merlin-forsaken Forbidden Forest and told us to-"

"Ya mean ya an' Jaegerjaques?"

"Don't say his name!" Ichigo snapped and Shiro's mouth closed shut with an audible click. "Anyway, yes, _him_. We went into the forest to get potion ingredients and you see stupid fucking _me _had to go ahead and research-..."

"Research wha'?" Shiro asked, frowning even as his inverted eyes followed Ichigo's repetitive pacing.

"Never mind, it's... uh, not important. But yeah, so of course he had to almost crush the damn bloodroot stems and I had to grab his hands to stop him and they were all stupid and warm and then he told me he had a... significant other and I mean, it wasn't like I cared or anything but why are you letting other people touch your hands if you love this person so much, you know? That's messed up, right?" Ichigo paused in his pacing and pinned down his pale brother with an impatient stare.

"Uh, yea'... real messed up," Shiro said and the orangette was suddenly aware that he'd broke out in a sweat, beads of moisture dampening his tangerine strands of hair at the nape of his neck even though the dormitory was infamously chilly.

"I know! Again, _not _like I care but it's just the principle of the matter and then he goes all quiet like he doesn't even want to talk to me until we get to the horned toads and as a _joke _I put one down his shirt and then he had to be a giant dick and chase me down to put one down mine too. That's like so immature, I don't even... but whatever, we get the toads and then he tells me to be quiet like he's my fucking father or something and-"

"Ichi."

"What!" Ichigo rounded on his twin still sitting on the edge of his bed and saw an unexpectedly deadly serious expression on Shiro's face, lips pressed together in a firm line and brows furrowed over narrow eyes.

"Look a' yerself," Shiro whispered. "It's freezin' in 'ere an' yer sweatin', ya can' stop fidgeting an' pacing, yer breathin' heavy an' I know yer hearts gotta be beatin' outta yer chest righ' now. No offense, but yer a fuckin' mess."

"Oh shit, not again," Ichigo moaned, struggling to take a deep breath but only managing several short, shallow ones.

"Again? Wha' d'ya mean 'not again'?" Shiro demanded, standing from the bed and closing the distance between them to grasp Ichigo's upper arms. "Wha's happenin' ta ya!"

"I don't know, I don't know!" Ichigo cried, tears of desperation finally slipping from his eyes and down his face. "I think I'm crazy. It doesn't make sense."

"Wha' doesn' make sense? Ichi, please calm down!"

"It's not... possible," Ichigo said in between gasps for air. It felt like he was dying. Everything in his body was on overdrive and too fast and... "All I did was... _look _at him... and his _wings_ and... Shiro, I don't know but... I think... I think I _love_ him!"

"Ya love... Jaegerjaques?"

Ichigo's vision was darkening and blurring and Shiro's voice sounded as if he was underwater and his brother's eyes were starting to look like shadows and... fire.

"But I can't... because... he has someone else," Ichigo said, feeling himself going limp in his twin's hold, the void threatening to consume him once again. Images of those heartbreaking blue eyes and massive, feathered wings and the one he now suddenly wanted with every fiber of his being with his someone else, his Mate, their image unclear. He heard his name being said frantically several times but all he saw then was the visions twisting into flames licking at his very soul, not orange-red or purple this time, but blue.

Ichigo remembered begging for someone to stop the fire and calling out to a winged creature to rescue him but the terrifying black abyss swallowed him whole and then there was nothing.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Not a long chapter, but a very important one.

**If Ichigo's ending conclusion of love seems really abrupt, it was meant to be and there is a reason for why it happened this way, which will be explained in later chapters. I don't want to explain here in my author's notes because that would take away from when it's talked about in the story. Also, the story is far from its end, it won't end with Ichigo and Grimmjow finally admitting their feelings for each other. Oh no, there is much, much more to come their way. **


	8. Sea Green

_**Beta'ed by ArisuAmiChan. **  
><em>

_Chapter Eight: Sea Green_

* * *

><p>"<em>You have a... remarkable memory." <em>

_"I remember everything about you. You're the one who wasn't paying attention."_

* * *

><p><em>Ichigo pressed his back against the stone wall, panting heavily and clutching his wand like his life depended on it. His life did depend on it, because he was in the middle of an outright war, and completely alone.<em>

_That was okay with him, though. He needed to do this by himself, needed to do the thing he'd been vowing to do for six years without anyone else's help, or with anyone trying to convince him not to._

_The man that had killed his mother was not fifty feet away from him, just around in the corner, in the Great Hall. Where he had once ate and drank with his friends and had some of the happiest memories of his life was the man that had murdered his mother._

_Taking a deep, shaky breath, he turned the corner and saw him, the man he was determined to kill. Antonin Dolohov._

_Those beady, dark eyes seemed to know that Ichigo was there, there to challenge him and they swiveled over to meet determined fawn brown, the ensuing sadistic smile every bit as twisted and ugly as the teenager remembered. His mind started flickering with the images of that night._

The burning house, the screams, his brother's scared eyes, the sounds of his own crying, the fire, the flames, the scorching heat. She's gone, his mother is gone, dead, she's dead.

_And this man was the reason, the man who'd murdered his mother, who'd so cruelly taken the person Ichigo loved most from the world without a second thought and undoubtedly felt nothing more than mere perverse amusement as he watched that unholy fire consume the Kurosaki home and their beloved matriarch with those soulless dark eyes. _

_Ichigo gritted his teeth, his grip on his holly wand so tight and harsh it nearly snapped the magical instrument right in half. He widened his stance, raising his wand to chest level as his entire body burned with his boiling blood, his own maddening fire swallowing him whole like the deepest pits of the underworld. It was an addicting feeling, that rage, and it made the world around him, until nothing was left but him and the man he'd sworn to end. The full out war rampaging around them turned to a muted, grayscale picture leaving only Ichigo Kurosaki and Antonin Dolohov the last two people on the earth. _

_Dolohov turned to face him head on, the criminally insane Death Eater lilting to the side the slightest bit as he lackadaisically spun his crooked wand in between two fingers, his twisted smile daring to portray his condescending glee. He took a few sauntering steps forward, not even bothering to raise his wand as his gaze raked over the orange-haired teenager, a gleam of recognition sparking in those obsidian orbs._

"_The Kurosaki brat," Dolohov said. "What an honor."_

_Ichigo sneered at the other man, wondering how in the hell this minion of the Dark Lord knew who he was at first sight. It couldn't be that the Death Eater remembered him from that night, Dolohov hadn't ever seen him nor his brother, but the orangette decided it wasn't of much importance how his enemy so readily recalled his identity considering though it was deeply gratifying to learn Antonin Dolohov would know the name of the one who defeated him, would curse _his _name in his final moments. That knowledge sent Ichigo's already inflamed bloodlust soaring to new heights and overwhelmed the boy completely, his body now only a tool to his own desire for vengeance and carnage._

_Dolohov's hideous grin grew to encompass his entire battle-worn and scarred face. "We were told not to kill you, you know," he said casually, as if he were just conversing with an old friend and it made Ichigo's stomach churn with both ire and disgust. "But I don't think I can resist killing off your pathetic mother's pitiful offspring."_

_Everything within Ichigo's line of sight blazed an intense crimson red the exact color of freshly spilt blood, his ears ringing with the sound of Dolohov's malevolent, crazed laughter. He didn't remember moving an inch or even uttering any kind of incantation but the next second he was standing over the Death Eater's sprawled form, breathing heavily as he looked down onto Dolohov's face twisted into an enraged snarl, blood seeping down from a large gash across his left temple and forehead. Ichigo had only just managed to recover from his momentary surprise at his own actions when his opponent slashed his wand through the air, a great force of wordless, invisible magic sending the teenager flying backwards twenty feet to crash to the stone floor's hard surface. _

_Ichigo grunted harshly upon contact, pain shooting up his spine and down his limbs, but barely a second passed before he was pushing himself to his knees, instinctively blocking a hex sent his way with a hissed '_Protego Horribilis_.' The shield held for a brief moment while the Gryffindor rose to his feet until it shattered under an explosive assault of Dolohov's curses._

"Expelliarmus,_" Ichigo shouted, running in an arch around the other wizard and dodging several jets of unspeakably dark magic, one managing to catch him on his left arm, shredding the fabric and slicing a sizable laceration through the skin of his bicep. Blood oozed from the wound down his entire arm, soaking the white cloth of his uniform but Ichigo resisted the urge to clutch at his injury, not willing to cease in his offense for even a second. _

_Though he loathed the man with every fiber of his being, there was no denying Dolohov was a fearsome duelling opponent and more than capable of beating an inexperienced student. That was something Ichigo refused to allow, not only due to the surely tortuous and slow death that would follow but more so because of the solemn vow he swore the exact moment he witnessed Antonin Dolohov on his family's doorstep. He could not die. He could _not _lose_._ Ichigo continued to evade the cruel magic spewing from the tip of the Death Eater's wand and his lips quirked in a wicked smirk when he saw Dolohov ever so briefly pause in his attacks, the other's arrogance so great he didn't bother to raise a shield or protect himself in any way. The orange-haired boy flicked his wand with his wrist, channeling an immense amount of his magical power into one of his signature, massively painful Stinging Hex._

_A sadistic, maniacal pleasure unraveled from the pit of Ichigo's stomach as he watched his verdant tinted hex assault Dolohov from numerous angles, the vicious magic piercing through the dark wizard's robes and skin, and it merely made him smile when the points of entry began to turn a bright red, the stinging suffering of the injuries incredibly visceral, and Dolohov yelled hoarsely, both hands clasping everywhere he'd been hit. Ichigo was so wrapped up in his own horrific joy he failed to properly react to the Death Eater's retaliation._

_Rather than protect himself for the wave of unearthly purple flames surging forth from Dolohov's wand, Ichigo froze on the spot, eyes wide and flashing with pure terror. It was like time slowed down as the boy only helplessly watched as that hellish fire blazed right into his flesh and it was the briefest of moments in which he didn't feel anything._

_And then he _burned.

_Ichigo was only vaguely aware of collapsing to the ground on his knees, clutching his chest and shrieking the broken, raw scream of pure _pain. _It was _excruciating_, like he was burning from the inside out, hellfire scorching his very bones and crushing his heart in a flaming fist. It cremated his mind and soul, everything he knew, everything he was or would ever be, his own name, reduced to charred, unrecognizable fragments and smoke and ashes. Nothing existed save for that pain. _

_It had to be eternities later when the slightest flicker of something else crossed through the scalding bars of his fiery prison, like the delicate beat of butterfly wings in the winds of a hurricane. Despite its fragility, Ichigo impulsively clung onto it within an instant._

_There was a soft, airy, and achingly familiar voice._

"Ichigo."

_And a deep, rumbling, and utterly foreign one, a voice much stronger and louder than its predecessor._

"Ichigo!"

_The pain left so suddenly the relief was nearly just as unbearable, its intensity exquisite. _

_Ichigo's breath came in shaking, heavy gasps, his sight clearing from murky darkness, and his body trembled as he lifted his head to look up into the pair of beady eyes that had tormented his nightmares ever since the night his mother died and left his life forever. And though those eyes black as their owner's heart were focused somewhere beyond and to the left of his prone figure, Dolohov laughing raucously like the subhuman killer he was, but Ichigo barely noticed or cared. _

_He knew in the back of his mind the first voice saying his name could only be a figment of his imagination, his subconscious recalling a perfectly accurate memory of his mother calling to him in a period of mental and physical agony. But despite knowing this and the fact he hadn't recognized the other voice, Ichigo was filled to the brim with an ardent determination, a feeling somehow even stronger than the one before. He no longer boiled in irate anger; now he was calm and... cold. _

"_What a disgusting display, risking your own skin for such a worthless creature," Dolohov shouted whilst Ichigo once again stood up to face the Death Eater, whose obscene smile revealing rotted and misshapen teeth as he raised his wand, preparing to deal the finishing blow._

_Too late._

_Using skill he never knew he possessed, Ichigo swiftly swept his arm up and across, petrifying and freezing Antonin Dolohov into a living statue covered in a thick layer of pure ice. That pair of beady, cold-blooded obsidian orbs flared with the truest form of fear for the very thing the wizard dreaded the most: death. _

_Taking a deep, steady breath, Ichigo lowered his arm so the tip of his wand was aimed straight at his enemy. There was no uttered incantation, no waving or movement of his wand, just pure killing intent, and a tide of vermilion sparks and charcoal smoke reminiscent of the fatal cloud above a destructive explosion shot through the atmosphere heavy with battle dust and din, erupting into a towering, blazing column when it made contact with the frozen figure._

_When the air cleared, nothing was left of Antonin Dolohov but a black scorch mark on the floor. _

_Ichigo cannot for the life of him remember anything after that except the sounds of the full-out war around him suddenly increasing to a deafening volume and sinking to the ground and watching black uniform shoes approach him with unseeing eyes, unable to comprehend anything other than the simple, single fact he'd just ended someone's life._

* * *

><p>It was with an extreme sense of<em> deja vu <em>that Ichigo woke in the Hospital Wing, gasping as his eyes snapped open. He'd done the very same the morning after the second Wizarding War and a night of visceral reenactments of his duel with Antonin Dolohov.

"Ichi!"

_And the same person had been at his side then, too_, Ichigo remembered somewhat fondly, turning his head to the side to look away from the vaulted ceilings of the school's infirmary and into the inverted black sclera and golden irises of his twin brother. He screwed shut his own amber brown at the throbbing pain in his skull, fisting a hand in his hair. Shiro's gaze was almost too intense to deal with at the moment, a mixture of concern, frustration, sorrow, and anger mirroring the pinched expression on his pale face.

"Stop yellin'," Ichigo murmured, licking his dry lips.

"Don' ya tell me ta stop yellin'," Shiro hissed and Ichigo heard the bed sheets rustle as his sibling stood and moved to the nightstand beside the headboard. "Here, ya gotta drink this."

The orangette cracked one eye open to spot lily white hands proffering a goblet of vile-looking, foamy green potion and wrinkled his nose, training a pleading stare up to his paler copy. "Water," he insisted in a hoarse croak.

"After ya drink this," Shiro said in a unusually serious tone that told Ichigo the other Kurosaki son wasn't in the mood to debate the issue. Grumbling under his breath, the Gryffindor pushed himself up to a sitting position and reluctantly took the goblet and its nauseating contents from Shiro. From many years of Hospital Wing experience, Ichigo knew it was better to down the potion all in one gulp and he did so, throwing his head back and gagging as the slimy liquid slid down his throat, his reward Shiro taking the goblet from his hands and replacing with a glass of water that the orange-haired twin chugged like it was _Felix Felicis_.

After he'd swallowed the last drop, Ichigo wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and kept his head down as he was unwilling to make eye contact with his brother. It may be obvious by now that refusing to directly face those rare few who made him feel unbearably uncomfortable was a habit of his.

"Where's Pomfrey?" he asked quietly.

"In 'er office, some wanker jus' barged in there a minute ago," Shiro answered tonelessly and Ichigo didn't have to look up to know his twin had his arms crossed over his chest and a porcelain brow arched expectantly. He wanted an explanation and Ichigo knew the small portion he_ could _explain would not only be excruciating to relay but only provide more questions than answers.

"How long have I been out?" the orange-haired sixth year said, drawing his legs up to rest his elbows on his knees and his chin in the palm of the hand not holding the empty glass.

"Jus' over twelve hours," Shiro said and Ichigo sighed, despondent at the realization he'd missed another day of classes. "I got all yer assignmen's fer ya."

"Thanks," Ichigo whispered, now grateful the entire wing seemed to be completely empty save for he and his brother as a tense silence filled the atmosphere for a good thirty seconds until he remembered something, instantly straightening from his hunched posture. "Damn it, I'm going to be late for detention!"

When he made to throw the covers off of his legs and therefore get out of the bed, a strong hand on his shoulder stopped him. Instinctively, his gaze flickered up to his twin brother's stony face and exotic eyes glittering in resolution.

"Yer not fuckin' goin' _anywhere _'till ya tell me wha' the hell is goin' on," Shiro said lowly and Ichigo was reminded of the albino's well-known and easily summoned menacing aura, one he often forgot about since it was almost never used against him, perhaps once or twice in their entire lifelong bond. "Er I'm goin' ta 'ave a chat wit' Jaegerjaques an' see if I can't get some answers outta 'im."

While Ichigo's heart stuttered and his airway seemed to contract to make breathing difficult at _that _name, visions of Shiro bashing in that tormentingly beautiful face with his Beater bat had the boy instantly shaking his head desperately, his free hand grabbing the other's wrist tightly.

"No, don't," he gasped, already experiencing a light-headed weakness just from that name merely being spoken. "I'll tell you everything, just please don't go talk to... _him_."

The only sign Shiro gave he was taken aback by Ichigo's fervent response to his threat was a minute raising of his eyebrows but he said nothing on the surprising reaction, nodding and sitting beside his sibling on the bed. "Relax, Ichi, 's okay. I jus' wanna know wha's goin' on wit' ya. It's been eatin' away at me all bloody day, I thought ya told me everythin'."

Ichigo inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly through his mouth, shaking his head once more but this time in an expression of the helplessness he felt and running a shaky hand through his mane of tangerine locks. "I do tell you everything, Shi," he said, using his childhood nickname for the other boy. "Or, well, I _did _but... I mean, _I _don't even have the slightest cluewhat'sgoing on with me lately - how the hell was I going to explain it to anyone else? So I just sort of kept it to myself until I figured it out, I guess."

"Idiot, tha's why ya talk ta other people, so they can help ya find out," Shiro said, rolling his eyes exasperatedly. "An' now ya don' have a choice, so start talkin'."

Ichigo bit into his lower lip, Shiro regarding him with the placid, non judgemental expression only those who knew you best could pull off without looking fake. And Ichigo knew his twin brother, despite his near certifiably insane personality (or perhaps because of it) would never dismiss anything his orange-haired counterpart said in confidence, no matter how utterly impossible it sounded.

"I don't really know where to start," he said, and it was the truth. Ichigo had no idea what he was feeling or why and there seemed to be no words in English nor Japanese to describe what exactly had happened the night before, when he'd been encased in strong, safe arms and drowning in tempestuous whirlpools of crystalline blue. "But... Shiro, do you... do you believe in... _love at first sight_?" Those last four words were spoken so quietly that Shiro had to lean in closer to the other in order to hear them.

The sixth-year Slytherin straightened, tilting his head and laying a black-nailed pointer finger on the curve of his pale lips - as if he was truly giving the question deep thought. "Well, Ichi, I wouldn' say I _believe _in it, but I bet a lotta muggles don' _believe _in magic either. 'Sides, when I firs' saw Nev, I definitely felt _somethin_'," Shiro said. "An' I ain't talkin' 'bout in my trousers, either."

Ichigo snorted, reaching out a hand to shove the white-haired boy playfully. "I'm being serious, you dolt," he said, unable to help but think Shiro's answer made a lot of sense though it only served to confuse him even further.

"I'm guessin' this 'as ta do wit' this mornin' an' how ya said ya... well, ya know."

"You could say that," Ichigo mumbled. "But it's been going on for a long time, the... episodes, I mean."

"How long?"

"Since the war ended."

"Merlin, Ichi," Shiro spat like a curse, standing up from the bed once more. "Ya mean ta tell me ya've been havin' these 'episodes' fer _six months_?"

"They usually aren't that bad, I swear," Ichigo defended himself adamantly, turning his head to make eye contact with his twin. "I just get dizzy and nauseated and out of breath for a minute or two and I've never blacked out before. Last night was... different."

"An' why is that?"

...

"Because of _him_."

Shiro's mouth opened so he could respond to the other's revelation, a door slamming shut and the rustle of skirts cut him off and both boys' eyes snapped over to where Madame Pomfrey was approaching them hurriedly appearing as flustered as always, her face flushed and eyes bright.

"Ah, Mr. Kurosaki, you're awake at last!" she exclaimed cheerily with a pleasant smile and Ichigo was relieved to note the school mediwitch's hands were clutching the fabric of her robes and not carrying another horrid potion or tonic for him to drink. "What is this - your third time to the Hospital Wing this semester? I'm beginning to think I should set up a permanent bed for you here, dearie." The orangette just grinned sheepishly as Pomfrey walked up to his bedside, silent and cooperative as she pulled out her wand and tapped the tip to his forehead. Golden ribbon cascaded from the place of contact, curling into a series of numbers Ichigo knew to be his vitals.

Afterwards, Madame Pomfrey pocketed her wand and lifted the empty goblet off of the night table, nodding approvingly to see it was thoroughly drained of its contents. "Good work making your brother drink the potion, Mr. Kurosaki," she complimented the Slytherin twin, chuckling. "He tends to be rather difficult when it comes to that."

"D'ya know what's wrong wit' 'im?" Shiro asked, nearly demanding an answer as he stared down the older witch, whose face fell slightly at the query.

"Well, I would like to ask a few things of Mr. Kurosaki before I make any diagnoses," Pomfrey answered, turning to look into gold on black eyes, not the least bit fazed. "In private, if you don't mind, dear."

For a few seconds, Ichigo was sure Shiro would give into his brotherly instincts and protest, insisting he wouldn't be going anywhere. However, the albino simply shrugged and glanced back once at the orange-haired Gryffindor just in case Ichigo wanted for him to stay, but when the other gave a curt nod Shiro swept out of the wing and into the corridor. The slightly uncomfortable moment that followed was broken by Madame Pomfrey's voice, dripping with sympathy and pity.

"Your brother tells me you had what sounds much like a panic attack early this morning," she said, replacing Shiro on the space of mattress beside Ichigo and using one soft, somewhat wrinkled hand to lay upon his shoulder. The orangette unknowingly recoiled from the unfamiliar touch and the mediwitch immediately snatched her hand back. "Can you explain to me what exactly happened?"

Ichigo grimaced, wringing a strip of stale white sheet in his hands. There weren't many things he could think of that he wanted to do less than describe in detail the 'panic attacks' that had plagued him ever since he'd woken in the same Hospital Wing, littered with cuts and bruises and crushed under the weight of his own self-loathing. When he took a bit too long to respond, Madame Pomfrey attempted to assist him.

"Were you unable to catch your breath?" A nod. "Did it feel as if your mind and heart were racing, making you feel anxious and lightheaded?" Another nod. "Has this been going on for a while, my dear?"

"Six months."

Madame Pomfrey didn't seem surprised in the least. On the contrary, she appeared to have been expecting the answer, rising to her feet and reaching a hand into one of her robe skirt's pockets.

"Mr. Kurosaki, are you familiar at all with muggle medicine at all?" she asked, pulling out from her pocket a piece of parchment folded into a brochure style.

"My dad's a doctor," Ichigo replied, gaze glued on that bit of parchment.

"Ah, perfect," Pomfrey said, proffering with a flourish the parchment that Ichigo could now make out did indeed appear much like the Wizarding World's version of a brochure, complete with easily legible script and animate photographs of witches and wizards performing daily tasks and smiling so widely it even made Ichigo's cheeks hurt. "Then perhaps you've heard of a condition muggles originally identified and named 'PTSD.'"

"Post-traumatic stress disorder?" Ichigo's eyes widened as he took the brochure entitled '_PTSD in The Wizarding World_', his mind flipping through images of tweaked out muggle soldiers forever changed by the battles they'd fought and the death and gore they'd seen.

"That's right," Madame Pomfrey confirmed a tad cautiously. "It's characterized by an altered psyche after strenuous or dangerous situations - one that has trouble coping with everyday stresses and therefore sends the afflicted person into unnecessary bouts of panic and anxiety. The wizarding population affected by PTSD has skyrocketed following the second war and considering when you told me your episodes began, Mr. Kurosaki, I'm willing to bet you are one of the many students currently dealing with the condition."

Ichigo blinked, staring blankly at the brochure in his grasp. The diagnosis made perfect sense and the Gryffindor was mortified; the real reason behind his terrifying experiences where he saw fire and believed he was dying was the fact that he was weak. It wasn't any physiological affliction or chemical imbalance causing his panic attacks, simply his own pathetic mental and emotional fragility.

Ever since he could remember, Ichigo knew the one thing about himself he could be certain of was his bravery, his inner strength. That's why he'd been sorted into the house of lions at his first welcoming feast. Maybe he wasn't incredibly intelligent or friendly or cunning, but he was brave to the point of stupidity, never scared and always willing to risk everything.

And now, with that proven to be dead wrong, what was he? _Who_ was he?

"It's up to you, Mr. Kurosaki, but I'm going to recommend you to a mind healer who's been working with other students also dealing with PTSD," Madame Pomfrey said gently before picking up the empty goblet and glass once more. "You're all clear to return to your dormitory but I highly suggest you take it easy in the near future, all right? If you're rushed here again, your handsome little friend may end up in the bed next to you." The mediwitch giggled and didn't bother to wait for her patient to respond, sashaying down the aisle of beds and back into her office. Ichigo cocked a brow, wondering why Pomfrey would refer to his twin brother as his 'handsome little friend.'

The orange-haired teen had just buttoned up his uniform shirt when Shiro burst back into the room, obviously fed up of waiting.

"So wha' did ol' Pomfrey tell ya?" the albino queried in what Ichigo was sure was supposed to be a lighthearted manner but wasn't fooling anyone. Wordlessly, the more colorful twin held out the brochure to Shiro, earning raised porcelain brows before the folded parchment was snatched out of his hands. Ichigo watched listlessly as his brother's inverted eyes scanned the words written there and their accompanying photographs. "Wha' tha hell? PTSD? Like tha' crazy guy who used ta use 'is cane as a machine gun when Dad tried ta give 'im insulin shots?"

Ichigo flinched at the use of the word 'crazy', scooping up his vest and tie from the nightstand and slipping into his shoes. "Yeah, like that... guy."

"Damn, well now I know it wasn' Jaegerjaques tha' did somethin' ta ya," Shiro said, eyes narrowing when the Gryffindor started at the mention of the half-veela. "He didn' do anythin', righ'?"

"Absolutely nothing," Ichigo affirmed quietly as he slung the strap of his messenger bag over his shoulder.

"Good, was beginnin' ta think he had since he's leavin' tha school and all."

Ichigo's reaction of grabbing his twin's shoulders was so immediate, the rarest expression of pure surprise crossed Shiro's lily white features.

"What did you just say?" Ichigo demanded, desperation no doubt clear in the tone of his voice and large amber brown orbs. "Tell me!"

"I said Jaegerjaques leavin' tha school, fer good."

* * *

><p><em>Grimmjow breathed in deeply, wiping away rivulets of sweat and blood from his face with his sleeve. The crimson liquid smeared into his messy strands of powder blue hair, staining a lock of it a deep purple, and he let his head fall back against what was left of a stone wall, the chilled surface a welcome sensation on his battle-heated skin. <em>

_Turning his head to the side, he peered around the corner of the wall, blue eyes locking onto a figure in a similar position not thirty feet from him, the mane of orange hair unneeded for him to identify the person whose shadow he'd been the entirety of this battle. The person whom he'd watched and kept safe from a distance far before the first spell had been cast. The person for whom he had already taken numerous curses and hexes and would willing take a thousand more. The person who never failed to be completely oblivious to his protective presence. The person to whom he was totally devoted. The person with whom he was irrevocably, desperately in love. _

_His Mate, Ichigo Kurosaki._

_If only he weren't such a coward, so afraid of losing the boy forever he never dared to take the risk of declaring his true intentions, then Grimmjow could currently be beside the orangette and protect him that much more. Because he was so pathetically weak and incompetent, Ichigo's safety was at risk. Such a thing was hard to believe of the blue-haired veela from an outsider's point of view, Grimmjow Jaegerjaques a feared name even among ranks of powerful Death Eaters despite his youth. _

_Grimmjow couldn't find comfort in the fact he had disobeyed direct orders from the darkest of wizards to defend his unsuspecting Mate when the mere thought of doing so would result in even the bravest of witches and wizards shaking in their boots with terror. _

Perhaps it was fortunate the single thing Grimmjow actually feared was life bereft of autumn sunset orange hair and heated maple syrup eyes.

_From his position numerous yards away, the blunette witnessed Ichigo raise his wand and determinedly round the corner. _

Then again, perhaps not.

_Grimmjow didn't waste a moment before tearing off after the Gryffindor, pressing himself against the exact spot of wall his Mate had seconds prior. He angled his body so that his right foot and shoulder were already around the corner, his sight easily picking out the lithe form belonging to Ichigo facing away from him. A silent snarl curled his upper lip back, revealing inhumanly white, pointed teeth perfect for gnashing and grinding, as Grimmjow saw the repulsive Antonin Dolohov turn his attention away from the bloodied body of his latest victim to the orange-haired teen staring him down._

_Grimmjow knew of Ichigo's tragic past; that the effervescent witch the half-veela remembered from that day in _Flourish and Blotts', _Masaki Kurosaki, had been murdered by the Dark Lord, his vessel Quirinus Quirrell, and the consistently faithful Dolohov, the last the one to light the Kurosaki home on fire whilst Ichigo's mother was still inside. He ached to bring about Dolohov's violent end himself, to make the poor excuse of a man suffer in agony for causing his Ichigo the worst kind of pain humanly possible. _

_But Grimmjow knew he loved his Mate too much to do that. Dolohov belonged to Ichigo. _

_A few words were exchanged between the two, said in voices too low for even Grimmjow's sensitive hearing to pick up in the thunderous din of the battle. However, Dolohov must have spouted an insult about the late Mrs. Kurosaki as Ichigo then moved so quickly if Grimmjow would have but blinked, he would've missed the burst of pure magic that sent the Death Eater flying, slashing up his cheek like a dagger. _

_Grimmjow's grin of vicious pride fell into an angered growl, Dolohov's retaliation sending his Mate twenty feet through the air before he crashed to the cracked floor tiles, and it took all of the half-veela's power of will not to destroy the insane dark wizard. And as Grimmjow knew he would, Ichigo pushed himself to his feet, casting a shield to protect against dark magic not known by many fifth years. _

_The next two minutes were unadulterated torture for Grimmjow, at times coming _this _close to rushing out from his hiding place in his veela form to rip Dolohov to shredded carnage with his talons, especially when he witnessed a cutting hex slice into tawny flesh. His bloodlust was somewhat sated when Ichigo managed to cast and hit his opponent with a potent Stinging Hex, Dolohov yelling in pain causing Grimmjow to stifle a peal of sadistic laughter._

_That laughter died in his throat when his vision was suddenly filled with a towering wave of evil, purple fire and his ears with the sound of his Mate's agonized scream. _

_Rage clouding his mind and being, Grimmjow took five running steps before he had the slightest idea what he was doing, halting just a few feet behind Ichigo's crumpled form. Though they had never even come close to Bonding, Grimmjow could feel traces of the other's pain and it only heightened the murderous fury throbbing throughout his body instead of a human pulse. _

_He supposed it was because he adored Ichigo that much that he didn't rip the cackling Death Eater apart with his bare hands. Dolohov was the orange-haired boy's upon which to enact his revenge. _

_Grimmjow's heart hurt as if an iron fist had clenched around it when he looked down to see Ichigo on his knees, trembling he was in so much pain. And yet the only thing he could do was to call to his Mate and hope that their connection, even unconsummated, would be enough to pull the other out of his internal fiery abyss._

"_Ichigo!" Grimmjow shouted through gritted teeth, muscles tight with the effort not to reach out for his Mate, especially when nothing seemed to happen. Nevertheless, his outburst caught the eye of Dolohov, the wizard's beady eyes enlarging before narrowing in cruel pleasure as they met blazing blue. Grimmjow knew the Death Eater thought it too good to be true that the half-veela had shown up at the best possible moment and it made the blunette's chest rumble with a low, dangerous growl. _

_However, Grimmjow ripped his gaze away from the other man to witness in relieved delight that Ichigo was slowly but surely rising to his feet. The Slytherin backed away a few steps, noticing the bull headed stubbornness evident in every taut line of his Mate's body and would have given the world to know what Ichigo's face looked like in that indescribable moment, just how radiantly those sunlight and earth eyes glittered in hardened determination. _

"_What a disgusting display, risking your life for such a worthless creature," Dolohov spat, not necessarily directing those words to Ichigo. Such a shame they would be his last._

_Grimmjow was reduced to an awestruck statue whilst he reverently witnessed his beautiful Mate soundlessly petrified Dolohov, feeling like it was his graciously-given honor to see Ichigo eradicate the Death Eater's existence in a display so magically exquisite it was as if the scene was that of a dark force vanquished by a powerful divine being. The half-veela was on the verge of sweeping Ichigo up in his arms, never finding his Mate more desirable than that moment and simply unable to contain himself any longer, just as the orange-maned teenager sank to the ground. _

_Ichigo collapsed onto his side, sending Grimmjow's instincts into overdrive and they shrieked at him to abandon any plan to not directly interfere in order to keep them both, but mostly Ichigo, safe. The blue-haired veela circled around the other's prone form, anxiously taking in listless limbs and unseeing amber brown eyes. He lowered himself to kneel beside the lifeless orangette, reaching out a large hand to slightly shake the boy's shoulder. _

"_Ichigo. Ichigo, can you hear me?" he said, whipping his head in both directions to ensure there was no imminent danger to either of them. Fortunately, the majority of the dueling was in the entrance hall and only a few frightened students scampered by. But that was of little comfort to Grimmjow since his Mate appeared completely catatonic, which spurred a tidal wave of worried assumptions and queries to wash over the Slytherin's mind. _

_What if one of Dolohov's curses had injured Ichigo in ways invisible to the naked eye? He could have internal bleeding, or burns from the purple fire. Or a dark arts hex could be affecting his mind, twisting and warping it. With those blank eyes it wasn't entirely impossible he'd been hit with an _Imperius_. And then there was the prospect of Ichigo's mind simply shutting down after something so traumatic as ending someone's life, no matter how insignificant it was. The possibilities were endless and wasting time when Ichigo's well being was in peril was a grave sin in Grimmjow's religion. _

_Sliding an arm under his Mate's knees and another around the boy's shoulders, the half-veela stood with Ichigo's limp figure securely clutched to his broad chest and took off running to the last place he'd seen Madame Pomfrey and other healers attending to the injured, surmising he would quite a bit of explaining to do when he showed up carrying the lifeless form of one of their comrades. _

_Grimmjow only hoped they would let him explain before drawing their wands._

_And that his mother would forgive him._

* * *

><p>The sun was just beginning to set when Grimmjow finally closed his trunk, muttering a locking charm under his breath. Slipping his hawthorn wand up his left sleeve and idly scratching that forearm, the blunette strode around his four poster bed decorated in dominantly green bedclothes with hints of silver. A soft cooing greeted him as he walked up to the large wire cage housing a snowy white, blue-eyed owl whose too intelligent gaze was affixed to his face like the bird could somehow sense his melancholy.<p>

Though, to be fair, anyone in the whole school would have noticed the infamous Grimmjow Jaegerjaques seemed far from his two customary personalities; the infamously arrogant, irreverent one with a taste for just a bit of violence and the much more recent brooding, antisocial one where he emanated a menacing, 'leave me alone' aura. No, this time the latter facade wasn't enough to mask the sorrow painting his eyes a bottomless pit of navy blue, no glitter or gleam to be spoken of.

"Hey, Pan," Grimmjow said, offering his avian familiar an owl treat through the cage opening. Pantera readily accepted the tasty morsel, making sure to nip her owner's fingers playfully even though the bluenette barely noticed. "I've got a letter for you to deliver to Aunt Hali, so we're going to take a trip down to the owlery."

Grimmjow swore Pantera pulled a face that was an owl's equivalent to a sneer of distaste. The spoiled thing despised the owlery, clearly believing herself above the common owls who spent their time in its rafters instead of their owners' bedsides where they could be pampered and overfed to the point of sin as she did. In fact, Grimmjow usually sent Pantera on her way through the dormitory window but this time he needed another owl to use as a decoy in the event that his Aunt Halibel's prediction of the Ministry reading mail delivered between magical 'creatures.'

"Is there a reason for the very first time in all your years at Hogwarts you seem to have picked up after yourself?" a coy voice said from behind the half-veela. Grimmjow closed Pantera's cage and slid the lock into place.

He hadn't expected to run into Szayel. Actually, he'd hoped he wouldn't.

"I'm leaving," he grunted, hefting the wire cage holding Pantera from the night table to rest on the surface of his luxe, serpent-embroidered duvet. He spotted in the corner of his eye Szayel sauntering in the room, flippantly tossing his messenger bag onto his own bed before moving to lean against one of the other Slytherin's bed posts, crossing his arms over his thin chest.

"Leaving?" the pink-haired boy questioned, a finely sculpted brow quirking over his white frames. "And where, may I ask, are you going? It seems rather strange one would just pick up and leave school halfway through their seventh year. This wouldn't happen to do anything with your infatuation with the Gryffindor boy, would it?"

Grimmjow's upper lip peeled back in a show of irritation at being interrogated by his supposedly best friend. "Are you the fucking Wizengamot now, Szayel?" he snarled. The other male's mustard yellow eyes widened behind his glasses even as the rest of Szayel's face maintained his cool composure.

"Not at all, Grimmjow," Szayel said airily, dropping his usual nickname for the half-veela. "I suppose I apologize for questioning a friend's motives to do something so drastic as leave school. I incorrectly believed it would be apparent I only did so because I do care whether or not they ruin their lives with one impulsive decision."

"Don't give me that bullshit," Grimmjow scoffed. "You're the biggest damn gossip in this whole Merlin-forsaken school. You just wanted to tell why I left to all of your little friends."

Szayel visibly bristled at the other's words, a rarity indeed, but continued to converse in the same even tone he always did. "Despite the truth that I do enjoy a good bit of scandal in our otherwise boring lives, your logic is flawed. I do not have any 'little friends' other than you."

That definitely shut Grimmjow up for a second or two, the blunette mentally swearing at himself for forgetting something so monumental as he and Szayel being the only two left. Those six other Slytherin boys that had once been apart of their pack of friends, the most influential clique of students in the entire school whose families were the wealthiest and, save for Grimmjow, had the purest bloodlines. Cruel destiny had already chosen them to stand in a war for a cause they didn't believe in far before any of those boys walked through the castle doors.

"Maybe you should leave too, then," Grimmjow snorted derisively. "You know as much as I do no one in this fucking place will come within ten feet of us, let alone be our 'friend.' Even the damn professors hate us."

"But that is not the reason you're leaving, is it?" Szayel said, sounding very certain of himself. "You couldn't care less the majority of the student body turns and runs away when they see you, and even less than that whether someone likes you or not... _unless_..." The bespectacled seventh-year shot straight up from his position leaning on the bedpost, one hand reaching up to tap his chin thoughtfully with the pointer finger and Grimmjow felt a sensation of dread grow in the pit of his stomach.

"Unless nothing," he insisted harshly, grabbing the handle of his trunk and Pantera's cage as he preferred to carry them himself rather than magically levitate them. "I'm leaving to escape this damn prison to somewhere they don't put their fucking grubby hands all over my stuff once a week and little second-year shits don't try to put either love or exploding potion in my orange juice and especially where I don't have to spend every night in detention with-"

"With Kurosaki, a.k.a. the love of your life?" Szayel cut him off, an amused, all-knowing smirk stretching his lips. "Honestly, Grimmjow, you couldn't be any more obvious even if you got down on one knee and proposed to the boy. All of that fighting you two have done is just pent up sexual tension and I _know_ he's part of the reason you've all of a sudden decided to leave Hogwarts. Broken heart, hm?"

The next second brought Grimmjow's trunk crashing heavily to the floor as the hand previously holding it was now fisted into the other male's uniform shirt, the blunette snarling into his friend's face like a wild beast.

"You know fuck all about me and... _him_, Szayel," he said, voice deep and threatening. "No matter what the hell _you _think, there's _nothing_ between us."

"I see," Szayel said, completely unfazed as he patted the hand currently holding him by his shirt six inches off the ground. "Well I suppose if that's true, you won't care if I told you Kurosaki was rushed to the Hospital Wing this morning and hasn't been seen since."

Szayel barely had time to catch Pantera's cage as it fell from the half-veela's grasp, Grimmjow barreling out of the dormitory so fast he nearly left a trail of dust in his wake.

* * *

><p>"<em>For good<em>? What do you mean he's leaving 'for good'?" Ichigo demanded to know, shaking his brother by the shoulders.

"Relax, Ichi," Shiro said, grabbing the other's wrists in an attempt to pry off the hands harshly squeezing his shoulders. "I don' think gettin' all worked up is good fer ya."

"You can't tell me something like that and then tell me to _relax_!" Ichigo was tempted to slap his twin in the face with all of the stress the albino was causing him. Why would Grimmjow suddenly want to leave Hogwarts in the middle of the semester? Did it have something to do with _his Mate_?

"Okay, okay!" Shiro exclaimed. "All I know is tha' he saw McGonagall jus' now an' all 'is stuff's on tha front steps."

"But do you know _why_ he's leaving?" Ichigo pressed, already on the ball of his toes in preparation to run but why he wasn't exactly sure yet.

"Word is he's leavin' school ta be tha new bassist fer tha Weird Sisters." Shiro shrugged. "'ey, even though ya an' him don' get on, d'ya think he could get me an autograph?"

"Oh shut up, Shiro!" Ichigo shouted almost hysterically, shoving his white-haired twin out of the way so that he could sprint out of the Hospital Wing and down the first floor corridor. As he pulled his sweater over his head and unthinkingly tossed his tie onto the floor, he wished like never before he wasn't too late.

It still didn't make sense, it still was absolutely, positively, utterly, completely insane - these feelings Ichigo had for that blue-haired veela, especially the devastatingly overwhelming one he'd only discovered last night. And he didn't have a clue as to why he was running like a madman through the castle to get to Grimmjow before he left, he just knew he wanted, no _needed_, to.

Even though Ichigo was at a loss as to what he would say or do once he found Grimmjow, he figured all he had to do was simply _find _him and... then he would know.

It was dinner time in the Great Hall but as Ichigo burst into the dining area, panting and flushed, amongst the sea of faces staring at him in bafflement he didn't see a head of dreamily blue hair anywhere. Deciding to go for the next best thing, the orangette scanned the far left and caught a spot of pink that immediately spurred him into dashing to the far end of the Slytherin table.

"Granz!" he called, a slender face framed by white specs and bubble gum shoulder-length hair turning toward him. Startlingly, Szayel Aporro Granz smiled slightly upon realizing it was Ichigo addressing him.

"Kurosaki," the Slytherin said when the other boy halted right behind where he sat at his house table, Ichigo breathing heavily and resting his hands on knees. "Let me guess, you are looking for Grimmjow?"

The Gryffindor nodded vigorously, his stomach dropping as Szayel sighed and shook his head. "I'm afraid you're too late for a goodbye. Grimmjow's long gone by now," Szayel said apologetically and Ichigo's face must have appeared as crestfallen as he felt because the coquettish male chuckled and waved a dismissive hand. "I kid, of course. He's in the Owlery right now so you best hurry along, Kurosaki."

It was a second until Ichigo was over his mild shock at the other's not particularly funny antics and Szayel didn't seem to register the orangette's face twisted into a fierce scowl before Ichigo pushed him face down into a serving bowl of mashed potatoes.

"Arsehole," Ichigo muttered and then he was off again, almost blurring with speed during the race from the Great Hall to the Owlery. So wound up in his unreal determination to reach Grimmjow, he never felt the snowflakes dusting over his tangerine hair and bare skin and the snow already on the ground seeping into his shoes to thoroughly soak his feet and ankles.

Ichigo was shivering as he ran up the steps to the Owlery, the hoots and coos of the birds filling the air. His heart was beating so fast and hard in his ribcage he swore he could hear it as loud and clear as a tribal drum, blood pounding in his ears, stomach muscles tightening almost unbearably, and a tingle of nerves covering his sensitive skin.

He skid to a halt on the landing right in front of the Owlery door, his eyes easily devouring every nook and cranny of the small space inside. For some impossible reason, the grief that ripped a big gaping hole of loss in his soul was the same as when his mother had passed away. It made him want to _die_.

The revelation he would never see that maddeningly beautiful, blue-eyed, blue-haired half-veela again seized his entire being, injecting every last bit with a lethal dose of agonizing sorrow. This... this couldn't be _it_, could it?

"Ichigo?"

Ichigo almost didn't believe the deep, rumbling voice sounding out his name was real, his mind probably playing cruel tricks on him again. Nevertheless, when he turned on his heel, shivering and close to tears, to look away from the inside of the Owlery to the base of the steps on which he stood, Ichigo couldn't stop the relieved, gasping sob that fell from his lips.

Though hard to imagine, Grimmjow looked even more beatific than ever before. The purity of the ivory snow cascading around them contrasted enticingly with his powder blue tousled locks. glittering jewel azure orbs, and bronzed, flawless skin. In short, he was the single most beautiful thing Ichigo ever had the pleasure of witnessing, the emotions that were running so high intensifying the half-veela's natural allure to an unearthly portrait.

Ichigo imagined it must have been quite a surprise when he flung himself down the Owlery steps and into the blue-haired boy's arms, wrapping his own around a scarf-covered corded neck and drawing Grimmjow close so their bodies were flush with another. The heat the other gave off was addictive in the bitterly cold winds howling around them and Ichigo never knew how _good _physical contact could feel until then.

"I heard you were leaving without even saying goodbye to me, you dick," Ichigo said, words muffled as he spoke into the fabric of Grimmjow's coat and the other Hogwarts student still frozen in place - though that only lasted a few more seconds and then the blunette's hands were gently pushing the Gryffindor away, eyes of sapphire sparkling with a thousand different emotions, even some without names.

"What the hell is this, Ichigo?" Grimmjow said, softer than his choice of words would suggest. There was bitterness and resentment there, but there was also something else, something still unknown. "I definitely remember this morning you said you'd _'kill me' _if I ever touched you again; now you're acting like I'm your long lost lover or some shit."

Ichigo was grateful for his wintry flush lest the other see his blush at 'long lost lover.' And yet the atmosphere was anything but light-hearted or flirtatious. The sixth year backed up onto a higher step, bringing him eye-level with Grimmjow - a incredibly disorienting feeling.

"I'm sorry, I was... upset and confused and I didn't mean any of it," Ichigo insisted, wrapping his arms around himself partly due to the cold and partly to help him feel a bit more secure. "I could never hate you, Grimmjow. I don't think I ever have, actually."

Those bluer than blue eyes widened, brows raising to a sky blue hairline. "Ichigo, I-"

"No, wait," the orange-haired boy interrupted whatever Grimmjow had been about to say, resisting the impulse to lay a finger over full lips. "Last night I realized something, something _big_, and it scared the fuck out of me. I thought I was going_ insane _but... now it actually makes sense."

"Ichigo, you don't have to explain anything to me," Grimmjow said, nearly growling but the orangette shook his head adamantly.

"But I_ do_, because... because I want you to know and if I chicken out and never tell you, well, I'll _never _stop thinking about it," Ichigo said, trying to reign in the passionate fervor bubbling inside of him. He almost felt high, so bad and yet so _good _at the same time. "I want you to know that I think, no, I mean... I'm _positive _I love you."

This time Ichigo was forced to place his hand over Grimmjow's mouth to keep the half-veela from responding to his confession.

"I know, I know. You have a _Mate_ and you love them more than I could ever comprehend," Ichigo said, speech becoming a little slurred as his throat choked up with what felt like a Quaffle and there was a familiar stinging pressure behind his eyes. "I just needed to tell you. It's crazy but I'm pretty sure I've been in love with you ever since you saved me that day on the train from the Dementors. I think I've been expressing it by fighting with you all these years, which is so cliche I just wanna _die_." Ichigo gave a watery chuckle. "Obviously that isn't the case with you, but, anyway, everything all came together for me last night in the forest and I guess I couldn't handle it, since apparently I have a sort of mental disorder and it makes me panic for no reason at all. Bet that makes you glad I'm not your Mate, right? You deserve so much better than a nutter like me. I hope your Mate knows how lucky they are to have you because Merlin knows I would."

Now if this were a muggle movie, Ichigo would no doubt expect the listener of such a speech to ardently proclaim their own love to the one speaking and then they would both continue to thoroughly snog the living daylights out of each other. End scene. Roll credits.

However, this was the terribly real world and in the aftermath of such a pathetic, maudlin monologue Ichigo was now readying himself for an actual, realistic response to refute his affections. He wasn't quite sure what to expect of it, though. He could believably see Grimmjow harshly reject him in a rather brutal, insulting manner complete with sadistic laughter. And then he could also picture the blunette utilizing his softer side that Ichigo had only recently come to witness, reminding the other in a gruff voice he was half veela which meant he could only love his Mate and that was _definitely_ not Ichigo.

Well, perhaps in a world where true magic exists the standards for reality can be bent a little...

Instead of either scenarios, Ichigo felt strong hands cup the back of his neck and cradle his cheek, his eyes instinctively fluttering closed as warm lips captured his frozen ones in his very first kiss.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Flashbacks. Declarations of love. Kisses. Fun stuff this time around. :D

Disclaimer: Quote belongs to _The Hunger Games _by Suzanne Collins.


	9. Gold

_..._

_Chapter Nine: Gold_

_..._

* * *

><p><em>Finally.<em>

Finally, after all his years of silent agony, Grimmjow truly knew what love felt like. At last his Mate was in his arms, lips locked and eyes closed, and the aching want in his chest had swelled to dangerous new heights and it just hurt so _good_. Ichigo tasted like vanilla, sunshine, and freedom and he was immediately addicted, shamelessly insatiable. The moment was excruciatingly perfect, their kiss holding all the intensity of eternities of love within mere seconds and ending all too soon.

They parted at the same time, Grimmjow's eyes slitting halfway open, lids lowered in a lustful, intimate gaze. He watched the orangette blink dazedly until those cloudy brandy brown orbs cleared and flitted upwards to meet his own royal blue, confusion and shock making them shimmer brightly. The boy's thin, tangerine brows furrowed together, a light blush blossoming on peachy skin as his full, just-kissed lips curved down in a slight frown. However, he made no attempt to break out of their embrace, his hands still desperately clinging to the fabric of Grimmjow's winter cloak. "_Why_?" he whispered breathlessly, his voice the sound of a broken heart and simply hearing it would make anyone's own chest ache in sympathy.

"Why else? Because I wanted to," Grimmjow said, a small, crooked smile appearing on his face. Apparently, Ichigo didn't like that answer, the Gryffindor dropping his arms to his sides and stepping back, his frown deepening to an outright scowl. Grimmjow's hands moved from the other's back to grip his upper arms, not allowing him to get any further away.

"And why is that? Why would you... " Ichigo demanded, trailing off and knocking one of the blunette's hands off of him. "Why would you _kiss me _when you... have someone else?" he asked, voice softening as he looked down and to the side, outrage dissipating into bitter hurt and Grimmjow couldn't help but shake the boy, Ichigo's eyes snapping to his face to stare at him with incredulous, wide eyes.

"There _is_ no one else, Ichigo," the half-veela growled through gritted teeth, letting go of the orangette's arms in order to grab his wrists and press them against his own chest. "There never has been, damnit. There's no one else but _you_."

"_Me?_ What-... what the hell are you talking about?" Ichigo said, shaking his head as if he refused to listen to his own thoughts.

He tried to pull his wrists free from the older male's grasp but Grimmjow only tightened his hold, bowing his head forward so that their foreheads touched. Ichigo exhaled brokenly, closing his eyes and Grimmjow could tell he was steeling himself for what the Slytherin would say and whatever hurt it would bring. He could've rolled his eyes and sighed in exasperation as it seemed he would have to spell it out for the poor thing, completely clueless even after all the years he'd been so painfully obvious.

"There is no one else because it's just you, Ichigo. You're it for me," Grimmjow said. "You've been it ever since that day in Flourish & Blott's, do you remember?"

After a few seconds, Ichigo's eyes flew open, realization shining in those expressive, dark amber orbs. "It was just after my sixth birthday and I was there with my mom - she said she'd buy me a book that was for kids learning how to fly because I wanted to be as good as my brother. And there was a boy, I ran into him when I wasn't paying attention and we both fell and when I looked at him I saw he had... blue hair," he said wistfully, gaze listing to the side until then when it shot back to bore directly into the other's.

"It was you, that blue-haired boy. H-...how could I have forgot?" Ichigo paused those slender fingers crawl up the back of the other's thick neck and thread into his stray strands of sky blue hair.

"The next time I would see you was at the start of my second year, your first, and those dementors ambushed the train," Grimmjow said. "Your brother ensured we didn't get off on the right foot, assuming I was the one who'd attacked you."

"But it was the dementors," Ichigo confirmed, brow wrinkling in suspicion. "And if you were only trying to help us, how did you know we needed help in the first place? You must have been fifteen cars down, at least."

"Twenty-three, actually," the blunette said, smirking a little. "After that I made sure that I was never that far away again."

"Yes, the entire time I've been at Hogwarts you were always there to annoy me," Ichigo huffed, the meaning of what the older boy had said appearing not to reveal itself to him for a moment or two when he suddenly stiffened, expression turning wary. "What exactly do you mean you were 'never that far away again'? Why would you even care where I was?"

"Come on, I know you know," Grimmjow said, his smirk turning to a soft smile. He was certain he'd given enough away that Ichigo, as oblivious as he could be at times like this, would realize the truth - he could practically see the memories flicker past in those luminescent ochre depths.

"It's you, Ichigo. It has _always_ been you."

...

Ichigo's head was reeling, years of his life flitting through his mind and it was as if his memories had been in black and white and now he was seeing them in color, realization illuminating them for the first time. He couldn't believe he hadn't seen it before, hadn't known how much his life centered around just one person.

All those times when he'd been lucky to the point of a miracle and chalked them up to good fortune, he could now see he owed to the same anonymous guardian angel. When that dementor had attacked him, when the Slytherins that had picked on him because of his hair had potions explode in their face, when Professor Grubbly-Planks had given him detention for a week and the next day a crate of Cornish pixies was set loose in her office. When he was a member of the DA and not once was he called into Umbridge's office to write lines in his own blood like so many of the others. When Death Eaters had taken over the school and were doling out cruel punishments to all the students brave enough to outrightly oppose them. All except _him_. When he'd somehow made it through the battle last spring untouched until he found Dolohov. When after defeating his mother's killer he'd collapsed and the last thing he saw before blacking out was a blurry figure coming closer and an unexpected comforting aura of warmth.

"It's me?" he breathed almost inaudibly. "It's me, I'm your... your...?"

"You're my Mate, Ichigo. You always have been," Grimmjow said, grinning madly. "I've wanted to say that for too damn long."

Face falling into a deep frown, Ichigo suddenly pulled away and out of Grimmjow's embrace which earned him a slightly surprised look from the other but he didn't much care. "So why didn't you? Why wait until now?" he demanded, folding his arms over his chest both because he was growing increasingly upset with the man in front of him and now that those burly, warm arms no longer held him he felt the bitterly cold November air creep under his sweater and into his skin. "Why did I have to make the first move for you to say anything? All this time you've known that I was... what you say I am and you say absolutely nothing? Were you ever going to tell me?"

"Ichigo, it wasn't that simple," Grimmjow said, shoulders stiffening defensively. "If I'd told you a few months ago or any time before then, would you have believed me?"

"I-... I don't know," Ichigo admitted, thinking of how much he used to loathe the Slytherin and if during that time he'd confessed such a thing he would've most likely thought it another prank. "Probably not at first, but with time I think I would've seen you were telling the truth."

"Maybe so, but I couldn't risk that," Grimmjow said, hand reaching out for the orangette and pausing just before touching his cheek. Ichigo immediately felt his breath hitch, an electric zing of anticipation shooting through him. "I couldn't risk scaring you away by coming on too strong. It's not exactly something you just spring on someone, you know."

"I don't scare that easily," Ichigo said, shaking his head and letting his hands fall to his sides, clenching them into fists. However, as he spoke his voice became softer with every word. This didn't seem real, for Grimmjow to be saying something so... so _perfect_ to him, something in a million years he wouldn't expect. "I'm not scared now. I half expect to wake up back in my dormitory any second, but I'm not scared. I don't even know what it is I'm feeling right now. It's strange but... good at the same time. Does that make any sense at all?"

"Yeah," Grimmjow assured him, finally brushing his fingertips over the Gryffindor's cheek. Ichigo leaned into his touch, cradling his face into the other's palm and sighing contentedly. "I get that, too. Every time I think about you."

To his embarrassment, Ichigo blushed brightly. "To hear you say such things makes me think I'm dreaming," he murmured against the veela's hand. Despite having heard straight from Grimmjow's lips that he, of all people, was the other's Mate, he still couldn't believe it and listening to someone he used to consider his rival make such amorous declarations was simply _insane_.

"Just being honest, love," Grimmjow said, smirking when Ichigo rolled his eyes, seeming to enjoy the reaction he was getting too much to stop. "You should start getting used to it, because I don't plan on stopping anytime soon."

Though the teen he tried to suppress it, a small, bashful smile tilted his lips and he couldn't stop himself from leaning forward and stepping up on his tiptoes so that their noses were just barely touching. "Kiss me again," he whispered and was almost unable to finish before Grimmjow eagerly obeyed, kissing him so thoroughly Ichigo felt his knees buckle underneath him. He nearly dropped to the ground, faint from the intensity, yet his fall was quickly stopped as arms wrapped around his waist and caught him.

Eyelashes fluttering, he tried to protest as Grimmjow broke away from their lip lock. However, he only managed a soft whine. "Ichigo?" he heard the other say his name while holding him up against his chest. "Hey, you still with me?"

"Mmm, yeah... " the orangette hummed faintly, blinking a few times as he attempted to shake off the dizzy spell currently making the world spin around him. Once he could again feel the ground beneath his feet, he looked up at Grimmjow through hooded eyes, seeing that the man's brow were furrowed and lips thinned. "'m fine, really."

"You sure? Because I can take y-"

"If you say 'take me to the hospital wing', I swear I will throw you off the astronomy tower," Ichigo threatened, narrowing his eyes.

"All right, I get it, no need for death threats," Grimmjow said, chuckling under his breath. "I didn't know I was that good I could make you almost faint on me. Makes me wonder what might happen if I did more."

Ichigo huffed at the other's playful teasing, winding his arms around Grimmjow's neck even as the potential promise that they could do more than kiss reminded him of why he'd so desperately sought out the man in the first place. "So... does that mean you're not leaving Hogwarts?" he questioned, afraid of what the answer might be. Surely fate wouldn't be so cruel as to take away what he'd so recently gained.

"Where did you hear that?" Grimmjow asked.

"Well, uh, my brother told me. He said all your stuff was out front on the steps," Ichigo said. "He told me it was because of this ridiculous rumor going around the school that you were going to be the new bassist for the Weird Sisters. That's why I ran out here looking for you. I wanted to tell you how I felt before you left and I never saw you again. How trite is that?" Ichigo laughed nervously, averting his eyes once again.

"Not exactly the word I'd use," Grimmjow chuckled softly, the delicate snowflakes drifting down into his eyelashes, flurries daintily gathering upon his head of cyan hair and on the black wool on the shoulders of his winter cloak.

"And which one would that be?"

"Fate, maybe." Grimmjow shrugged, an easy, crooked smile brightening his already radiant face. "Destiny, kismet, divine will... take your pick. This-," he paused, cupping Ichigo's face in his leather gloved hands and running his thumbs along the angles of the orangette's cheekbones. "Was always going to happen. Nothing could've stopped it, _nothing_. I'm bound to you by something stronger than any stupid spell or charm and it can't be broken. It_ won't_ be broken." His grip on Ichigo tightened and there was a desperate determination in his voice that while quiet roared fiercer and more powerful than the most fearsome Hungarian Horntail.

"No offense, Grimmjow, but..." Ichigo said shakily, clasping the other's hands and guiding them down to between their chests. "You're kind of bloody terrifying me. I mean, this is insane!"

The blunette huffed, chewing on his lower lip and furrowed his eyebrows as he apparently thought deeply on what his response should be. "Merlin, I'm an idiot. I keep forgetting this is all new to you," he whispered gruffly, squeezing Ichigo's hands.

"But I know you, Ichigo, probably more than you think. You hate not being fully aware of the situation, of not being in complete control, and later on when reality hits you'll be pissed the fuck off that something beyond your understanding chose your life for you. Hell, I was so frustrated and angry all these years at Hogwarts I took it out on anyone unlucky enough to cross my path. I destroyed almost everything I had, but you're better than that, better than me."

"No, I'm not," Ichigo protested adamantly, shaking his head in denial and nearly ripping his hands away. "Anger and... _what_ it made me do, it took a piece of my soul I can't get back."

In the spring when the War at last came to its climax and the castle lay in ruins, littered with the bodies of the dead and the wounded, and ferociously fatal duels raged on around him, Ichigo hadn't stopped to aid anyone in need or even think about his plan of action he had only torn through the battle scene on the hunt for the bastard he'd sworn revenge on. He'd been a possessed man, filled with nothing but the intent to _avenge_, to _hurt_, to destroy, and be had.

He'd killed someone, a living, breathing human being with a mother, a father, a brother, maybe a wife and some kids. He was a murderer, nothing more nothing less, and that knowledge was ripping him to shreds on the inside and now he was struggling to hide what had happened to him after he'd committed the bloodiest of all sins, and steadily failing miserably.

"You may think you want me, Grimmjow, but you don't," Ichigo said, turning away toward the top of the Owlery's stairs and stepped onto the next stair level, instantly craving the veela's aura of ardent warmth whilst the December chill wrapped itself around him. "Trust me..." he trailed off.

A large hand grasped Ichigo's shoulder none too gently and forcibly whipped him around to stare with wide eyes into whirlpools of sapphire oceans. He was left bereft of breath at the commanding power that stare held over him, making him freeze in place and stare blankly in awe at the blue-haired boy like one would upon seeing their deity in their physical form.

"_I know what I want, Ichigo_. You are _not _the only one with skeletons in their closet, ones that make them feel less than human," Grimmjow growled, a primal rumbling deep in his chest. "_Trust me."_

He punctuated the echo of the Gryffindor's words by removing his hand from Ichigo's shoulder and grabbing onto the sleeve of cloak and sweater, tearing the fabric away to expose the entirety of his left inner forearm.

There, on the background of flawless sun-kissed skin, was the noxious black ink marking the flesh with the symbol of a shadowy human skull and a demonic serpent curling and twisting around the macabre bones and slithering out the mouth open wide like it was screaming. Even while they stood there the snake bobbed its head, narrowing his eyes at the orange-haired teenagers and sliding its tongue out to hiss at him.

Ichigo gasped, subconsciously covering his mouth and rearing back in his shock. He wasn't stupid. He knew the other boy was in Slytherin and had been associated with the friends, families of and Death Eaters themselves. Merlin damn it, his father had wined and dined with the upper crust of Voldemort's followers and was now even in Azkaban for crimes committed under the direct orders of the Dark Lord himself.

"Y-you… you... were a _Death_ _Eater_?"

"My… _recruiting _was somewhat complicated, but yes," Grimmjow confirmed stonily. It was like he was waiting for the other to reject him for what he'd just revealed, to be disgusted with him or angry or at least disappointment.

But all Ichigo felt was sorrow. Overwhelming, bone deep, aching sorrow.

"Now you realize you're not alone, yeah?" Grimmjow said, a sardonic smirk seeming to mask the vulnerability he felt at the moment and for some reason Ichigo found it incredibly endearing. "Not anymore."

Reaching out hesitantly with one hand, the younger boy looked back up to Grimmjow's face to make sure he wasn't pushing his boundaries and upon finding the blunette frowning in confusion let the tips of fingers graze the glossy jet black scales of the serpent, lightly tracing up around the skull. By touch alone he could sense the noxious evil embedded in the tattoo and immediately wished he could somehow scrub the elder's arm clean of this nefarious, ugly thing.

Then Ichigo covered the Dark Mark with his palm, a small smile on his lips that would've seemed out of place to anyone else beside the two of them.

"No, not anymore," he said.

* * *

><p>And that was when the warning bell for first period decided to ring.<p>

Grimmjow could've _Bombardo_'ed that huge, stupid thing in the front courtyard until it was nothing but scrap metal lying in a million little pieces at his feet. He was in the middle of the moment he'd thought impossible for over six years. It was ridiculously maudlin and very unlike him to whine about being parted from what he hoped to be his new beau like some third year girl on her first date at that tea shop in Hogsmeade, he knew that and yet he barely resisted scooping Ichigo up in his arms as if he was a damsel in distress or something and running away with him.

"Shit, I'm late! _Again!_" Ichigo cursed in despair, clutching fistfuls of his neon tangerine spikes. "Ugh, Professor Shihoin is going to have my ass, I just know it."

"So just ditch for a day," Grimmjow suggested casually, though his demeanor was nowhere close to the furious outrage his veela blood pumped through his veins at anything taking his Mate away from him. The sixth year looked back forth between the main castle and him, biting his lip indecisively."It's almost holiday, anyway, so you wouldn't be missing anything important."

"What? You wanna ditch class?" Ichigo sputtered as if he couldn't believe what scandalous behavior the other suggested, his brandy brown eyes bigger than dinner plates. "I can't do that! I've missed too much already being in the Hospital Wing and midterm exams are coming up next week. And I _really _don't want to add anymore detentions on to my list if we get caught and-"

Grimmjow decided to shut the poor thing, who looked like he was on the verge of hyperventilating, up by pressing a vigorous kiss on his lips. In spite of their liplock still being chaste and close-mouthed, the intensity quieted Ichigo right down and the blunette smirked into the kiss. "You need to relax, love," he murmured, pulling back. "Oh, and don't worry, I promise we won't get caught."

"But-"

"And wouldn't you agree we need to talk about some things?" Grimmjow quirked an eyebrow and watched in delight as the orangette's expression went from doubtful to contemplative and then finally resignation as he accepted his former rival's reasoning.

"Fine, but only if you help me with my Potions essay for Kuchiki, I need at least an Exceeds Expectations to keep my grade in the class."

"Consider it done," Grimmjow said, placing a hand over his heart and then using it to capture Ichigo's in his own, leading them down the Owlery stairs and across the snowy courtyard. "We'll go to your dormitory first so you can put on some proper clothes and not freeze to death, sound good?"

"Sounds just wonderful," Ichigo said lightly and the Slytherin glanced over his shoulder to view the boy wave flippantly before a deadpan, unamused glower fell over his face. "Except for the part where we run into Filch, or worse – that feline demon Mrs. Norris, and end up scrubbing first year cauldrons _for the rest of our bloody lives_."

Grimmjow stopped and after a moment's consideration leaned forward and laid a swift kiss upon the crease between Ichigo's furrowed brows, the terribly sappy gesture completely worth it when the wrinkles on the teen's forehead disappeared when he was so startled his brows rose sky high and a blush the color of a peony blossom made his whole face glow. Perhaps the older boy should've held off on such affectionate gestures, despite the fact they'd both confessed their true feelings for each other not twenty-five minutes earlier.

"Just follow my lead and we'll be fine," he reassured the other. Very well, apparently, as Ichigo fell silent and tread behind Grimmjow making as little noise as possible, their hands dropping back to their sides as they entered the castle through an open archway. Grimmjow knew better to be offended; for him it was more natural than breathing and even fighting to display his amorous affections. Not to mention he really didn't give a goblin shit if anyone saw him engaging in some PDA with his Mate. Who wouldn't want to be seen publicly in a romantic relationship with the most stunning creature in all of Hogwarts?

Creeping through the hallways the paintings all eyed them suspiciously and a few coughed poignantly to let the two students know they were aware of their rule breaking behavior. However, they reached Gryffindor Tower without coming across so much as a single prefect and Grimmjow paused beside an intricate tapestry mounted on the wall adjacent to the entrance to the Gryffindor Common Room, turning to Ichigo. "Go put on clothes that aren't part of your uniform. I'll wait here for you," he said, knowing that it was an unspoken law that Slytherins and Gryffindors do not encroach on each other's territory no matter what.

Ichigo nodded and disappeared around the corner, leaving the blunette to lean against the wall casually as if he were supposed to be there as many seventh years had a free period. Though his cool countenance only applied to his exterior, considering inside he was wracked with jumbled thoughts of how to explain his and Ichigo's 'situation' in detail without scaring the boy off. He remembered that his mother had once told him that Mates, both veela and human, needed to be with one another like they needed air. But that didn't exactly comfort him, for Ichigo was as stubborn as he himself was and that could lead to disaster rather quickly.

Said stubborn boy then emerged from the Fat Lady's Portrait portal, heading straight for him in his new outfit of black courduroys, a gray turtleneck, and a muggle-style red flannel coat. "So now where are we going?"

"The third floor, the Defense Against the Dark Arts Tower."

They snuck through the hallways as they'd done before, taking a shortcut through the Charms corridor to get to the third floor and to the statue of Gunhilda of Gorsemoor, or more popularly known as the One-Eyed Witch, in record time. Well aware that Ichigo would soon begin firing off questions of what they were doing, Grimmjow grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him to the rear of the statue where the witch's enormous humpback concealed them from plain sight.

"_Dissendium," _he said and couldn't resist watching the other teen's face as the statue's humpback slid heavily to the side to reveal a slide like ones found in playgrounds but made of stone and leading somewhere pitch black down below. Grimmjow chuckled as Ichigo's jaw dropped slightly and withdrew his wand from under his left sleeve. "You want to go first?" he teased.

"Um..."

Sensing true discomfort from his Mate, Grimmjow hastened to correct it. "We can go together," he offered, catching the flicker of relief in the other's eyes at the suggestion and carefully lowered himself to sit at the top of the slide, bracing himself on either side to stay in place while Ichigo got into position behind him. In the fleeting second before Grimmjow let go he felt the younger's arms cinch around him tightly and then they were swiftly plunging into the darkness stories below.

Unable to see much, the end of the slide caught the Slytherin by surprise and the both of them ended up tumbling off the slide rather ungracefully. _"Lumos," _they whispered in sync, light blooming at the tip of each of their wands whilst they rose to their feet.

"Where are we?" Ichigo asked quietly, as if afraid to speak too loudly for whatever reason.

"Under the school in a tunnel," Grimmjow answered, pointing with his wand to illuminate the shadowy, damp passageway and began walking the twenty-minute trek he knew that lay ahead of them.

"And where exactly does this tunnel lead to?"

Realizing Ichigo was in for enough surprises for today, Grimmjow glanced over his shoulder at him and smiled mischievously. "Honeydukes."

"_Right,_" the orangette scoffed, but the other boy didn't respond knowing that he would find out soon enough that it was the truth. "Still, how did you know about this passage, anyway?"

Grimmjow's lips thinned into a straight line, hating to talk about it but willing to tell his Mate the truth. "A friend of mine read about it in our fourth year and we decided to test it out to find out it actually works."

"Oh, was it that pink-haired guy... um, Szayel?"

"No, his name was Ulquiorra," Grimmjow stated stiffly, hearing Ichigo's sharp inhale that meant he'd picked up on his use of the past tense.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to... " the Gryffindor apologized profusely, coming up to walk beside the other boy and looking like he wanted to say or do something more but didn't know what. And so they fell silent for the rest of the trek to the end of the tunnel.

* * *

><p>Ichigo was grateful that Grimmjow spared him the <em>'I told you so<em>' routine when they did indeed end up in a cellar stocked with barrels of candy that no doubt was part of the sweetshop _Honeyduke's. _

He wondered if any other students knew about the secret passageway. There couldn't have been very many or else kids would be skipping out everyday to come there. "So what's the next step of your evil plan?" he hissed under his breath. "We can't just walk up out of the cellar into the store."

"Actually, we can and we will," Grimmjow said confidently, stepping onto the ladder that led up to the main level yet not getting very far before Ichigo grabbed him by the cloak and forcibly held him back.

"Are you crazy? Someone will see us and then we'll _really_ be screwed."

"Ichigo, it's two weeks before the holidays and we're in Hogsmeade. Just listen," the blunette said, gesturing upstairs and making Ichigo first notice the sound of numerous sets of footsteps bustling around on the wooden floors and the low, constant buzz of voices. "See?"

Reluctantly, Ichigo followed Grimmjow up the cellar stairs and braced himself when he shoved the trap door up, swiftly ascending through it with the kind of easy grace the orangette both envied and admired. Trusting that the coast was clear for him to proceed as well, he scampered up hurriedly and took Grimmjow's outstretched hand to help pull him up to his feet. This time, however, he didn't let go, not worried about causing the school's biggest scandal here.

They made their way through the crowd of people inside the candy shop and out to Hogsmeade's main street where it was still gently snowing and the stores were all decorated in their Christmas best - wreaths, garlands, lights, the works. Standing in the middle of it all, holding the hand of the boy he loved, Ichigo felt lighter than he had in weeks, as if all his stress had melted away. "This way," Grimmjow guided him up the road toward where the smaller, speciality shops were located.

"Where are we going, now?" Ichigo questioned, thinking they would've probably hit up the Three Broomsticks but it was in the complete opposite direction.

"You're not going to like it," Grimmjow said, chuckling darkly.

"Are we going to the Shrieking Shack?" Ichigo accused, thinking it very likely the older boy would take him there to talk about their love life.

"Worse," the blunette confirmed and stopped in front of a tiny building with steamed up windows and lacy curtains, the place's reputation proceeding it.

"Madam Puddifoots, the place where all the couples go to snog in public? You're right, I would rather go to the Shrieking Shack. Come on," Ichigo declared, tugging Grimmjow away from the dreaded tea shop that smelled like old lady even from where they stood twenty feet from the door.

"It's the most secluded place we can talk about... _things_," the Slytherin defended his choice. "All the rest of the teenagers who come here are in school so it'll be practically empty."

"I guess..." Ichigo relented, allowing himself to be led inside the tea shop, a little bell over the door announcing their arrival. The interior was somehow even uglier than he'd imagined, antique lace doilies and china sugar bowls decorating the circular tables. Yet Grimmjow had been right about its occupancy level right then, the sole patrons an elderly couple sitting by the window and holding hands. "Let's sit back there, the booths with the curtains," he suggested, jerking his head toward the few specially private seating areas for the particularly amorous.

Actually, now that he thought about it, he certainly wouldn't mind kissing Grimmjow again.

Their backsides had barely touched their seats when a stout witch with jet black hair and a wide smile appeared at their side. "What can I get you, m'dears? Tea, coffee, hot cocoa...?"

"I'll have a black coffee," Grimmjow said, not even looking up at the woman.

"Make that two," Ichigo said, giving her a polite smile. The witch strolled away, straightening one of her doilies and then heading into the back. "So... " he said, clasping his hands in front of him and meeting dark cerulean eyes across the table. "Let's talk."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Ooh, Ichigo's getting down to business and they both have some 'splaining to do. But Grimm finally told him they're Mates! Yay!

Whew, two updates in one day. Yeah, I'm going to go take a like three hour nap now.

Hope you enjoyed the chapter!


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Bleach, Harry Potter, Fantasy, Romance