And wow, even in just one day SG-chan already has two anon reviews to reply to! ^^

anonymous: Ha ha, Seamus does get bullied a bit, doesn’t he? I feel your pain Seamus. You may be a fictional character that I just tortured, but I feel you. Hee hee, glad you liked the letter! ^^ Yes, only in a Hetalia setting x3 Ahh, Blaise is complicated. No, seriously, he is. I’ll just say that while he is related to the mafia (c’mon, Romano is extremely sexy mafia!) he is not Rome’s great-grandson. Technically. Like, I said, it’s complicated and can only be explained through copious amounts of backstory. Well, not exactly copious, but I’ll get around to it -_-; Thanks for reviewing~

foreverhalfa: Glad you liked the chappie~ ^^

Obligatory language key returns! ^^

Ancient English (Iggy’s spell’s, etc.): “{insert text}”

French: “insert text”

Greek: “\insert text\”

Parseltongue (we will get to this one eventually): “*insert text*”

“{No, no!}” the young boy shrieked, tears pouring down his face. “{He can’t – Father can’t be-}”

Unlike his companion, Albion was silent. “{Master is… dead?}” he inquired lowly. Hearing the young country say it only made the other boy cry harder, and his dark head fell against Albion’s shoulder. Albion’s arms came around to rest against the dark-haired boy’s back, more as a reaction than any actual wish to comfort.

“{I-it’s a lie, right? F-father can’t be dead,}” the dark-haired boy babbled, his voice muffled by the cloth of Albion’s clothing.

“{I’m truly sorry my lords,}” the young woman murmured, her own eyes pricking with tears as she hugged both boys to her.

“{Don’t worry.}” The two humans looked at Albion, whose green eyes were brimming with emotion. “{I’ll make her pay for Master’s death,}” he vowed.

“{You truly will?}” the other boy asked, dark blue eyes hopeful.

Albion hugged him tighter. “{Yes. I promise.}”

Arthur woke gasping for breath as fire raged in his gut – no wait, that was his spleen. “Fuck!” he gasped. “I am going to kill that bastard! Prophecy or no prophecy, I’ll disembowel him and then draw and quarter him, leaving the flies to feast on his open wounds for a few days before I finally allow him to die!”

“Rather violent aren’t you?”

Arthur turned in surprise to see Jack sitting in a chair next to his bed. “The fuck are you doing here?” the blond asked suspiciously.

“Watching you while Ianto’s teaching,” the time-traveler replied. “You know, in my experience when people get violent like that it’s cause they’ve been injured.”

“I guess you aren’t just eye-candy,” England admitted. “And yes, something’s just happened with my spleen, so if you’d be so as kind as to get Madame Pomfrey, I’d appreciate that.”

Jack’s eyes widened and he went off to get the nurse. England lay back against the pillow and sighed as he tried to take his mind off the burning pain.

“And just what have you been doing now Professor Kirkland?” Poppy asked darkly, Jack trailing behind her.

“Lying in bed when my spleen exploded – or felt like it,” the Englishman replied blithely. “It hurts something awful, by the way.”

“No sass from you or I’ll charm your mouth shut,” the mediwitch threatened. “or you,” she included Jack in her threat.

“I’m just a bystander,” Jack claimed as he raised his hands in surrender.

“Traitor,” Arthur spat good-naturedly.

“I’m on Ianto’s side because that’s what will get me laid. Keeping in his good graces means keeping you here and not doing anything stupid,” Jack smirked. “IT isn’t fair for eye-candy to have brains too,” Arthur muttered.

“You sound like Owen,” Jack snickered. “Are you undead too?”

“I bleed and I can have sex,” England retorted. “Does that answer your question?”

“Perfectly,” Jack replied.

“Stay still!” Poppy growled, pointing her wand right between Arthur’s eyes. “I am not above stunning my patients who are too troublesome.”

The blond obediently kept quiet as poppy ran a diagnostic charm. As soon as she was done he asked, “Would it be too much trouble for me to write a message for Albus?”

“Would this have to do with your ‘curse’?” Poppy asked.

“Yes,” Arthur replied matter-of-factly.

She sighed. “I’ll go get some parchment.”

“Oh don’t worry, I’ve already got somebody getting me some,” Arthur informed her.

“Did you use telepathy or something?” Jack wondered, fixing Arthur with a curious glance.

“Or something,” England replied cryptically. “Ah, thank you Keira.”

“You’re welcome England,” the brunette fae who’d appeared in a small swirl of red replied cheerily. “I hope you’re feeling better; Brigid is close to terrifying half the small Elves to death, and I can only run so much interference.”

“Hmm, no, there’s been a slight setback,” England murmured, lifting his hand up so Keira could perch on his extended finger. “Just try to get her to do something productive,” was his next suggestion. And do try to keep her away from the House Elves.”

“Um, hello? There’s no one there,” Jack said, confused.

“Ah, I guess your time abroad didn’t automatically gift you with Sight,” England lamented as he accepted the pen and paper that Keira had procured for him.

The other two were surprised to see the writing supplies appear in his other hand, seemingly out of thin air. “The universe is rather fickle that way,” the blond commented as he transfigured the lap of his blanket into a harder surface he could set the paper on.

Poppy quickly snatched the two away. “Medication first,” she informed him.

Arthur sat back with a huff. “Fine, but could we hurry? Every moment that passes could mean the death of another person.”

Not sure if he was just being melodramatic or truthful, the mediwitch quickly made her exit towards where she kept her already made potions.

“You’re bitchy when you get vindictive,” Jack remarked.

“I’ve good reason for being so,” Arthur muttered. “You’d act the same if you had a narcissistic, war-mongering psychopathic – probably sociopathic too – megalomaniac tearing about your country.”

“Really bitchy,” Jack nodded to himself. “Ow!” he complained as Keira kicked him in the face. “What the hell?”

England chuckled to himself before he downed the pain-numbing potion Poppy had just brought. “Her name is Keira, and she doesn’t appreciate being called ‘it’.” He quickly folded the paper in half, then in half again, and ran his fingers over the open folds. “{Here, leave this for Albus,}” he instructed Keira. She nodded and then disappeared with the paper.

“I shall sleep now, and dream of killing that snake-faced bastard,” Arthur remarked rather absently. “I believe it shall be cathartic.”

Jack shifted awkwardly while Poppy rolled her eyes and stalked back to her office, muttering under her breath about insane and overly paranoid wizards.

Harry Potter was thinking. Not that this was a bad thing, but about Professor Arthur Kirkland.

Harry’d been in the infirmary for the past half hour, waiting for Madame Pomfrey to get done with an antidote for the prank that somebody had hit him with that turned his skin blue and his hair purple. While he appreciated that the Weasley twins had apparently appointed a successor, he wished that they had been nice enough to inform him before he got caught in the crossfire.

To get back to the subject on hand however. Kirkland.

The professor had been quarantined at first, according to Hermione, but he could see now that he’d been moved out into the general area. Either Madame Pomfrey had figured out what was wrong with him and he was recuperating, or he wasn’t contagious. Also, Harry agreed with the guy in the fashionable trenchcoat; Kirkland was bitchy when vindictive. He was also very loud.

It had been the very beginning of Kirkland’s rant that stuck in Harry’s mind. Not that the man’s rant about how he was going to kill wasn’t disturbing enough, but he’d said ‘Prophecy or no prophecy.’ To the best of Harry’s knowledge, there was only one person that could be killed by only one person because of a prophecy, and as Kirkland had been swearing about a snake-faced bastard, he was pretty sure it wasn’t himself the history professor was talking about.

Luna said that he’d been vouched for by a good source, the boy recalled. That’s it. After I get out of here I’m talking to Dumbledore.

Heracles had never been one for sneaking around. That was more Kiku’s thing; ninjas, you know. But it was because of Kiku, or rather on his request, that Heracles was doing this. Not being a ninja – well, not a traditional one anyway. He didn’t like dressing in black; far too hot, plus it was a dreadfully dull color.

Anyway, to get back on track here (Greece blamed his quite creative imagination for bringing up images of Kiku dressed in sleek, form-fitting ninja garb).

There was no one else in the infirmary aside from England and a kid whose hair was purple. Weird. They were both asleep so, in theory, Greece shouldn’t have had any trouble with his Kiku-inspired/given mission. Just to be on the safe side though, he uttered a low trill that wouldn’t be audible to human ears. It was just on the range of his hearing as well.

From all corners of the room pairs of different colored lights began to glow about a foot above the ground. A soft warbling filled the air as the Greek army began their chant to promote a good night’s sleep. In this case, it would keep Heracles’ target from waking up.

From within the folds of his clothing Heracles drew out a camera that Kiku had specially charmed to work in environments that were heavily saturated with magic, ambient or otherwise. He honestly couldn’t see the ‘moe’ appeal in this, but then again, Kiku was always going on about 2D girls when he had a prime hunk of Grecian meat like himself to subject to his dirty, absolutely raunchy and, quite frankly, quite arousing –

Greece really needed to stop his brain from going off on Kiku-related tangents. It couldn’t be healthy.

He quickly positioned himself above England’s prone form, the self-proclaimed gentleman slightly drooling in his sleep. A light sleeper, the flash of the camera would normally have woken him, but for the cats’ chant. Heracles took another picture, then one more for good measure. He clucked his tongue twice to dismiss his army, and they obediently slunk back into the shadows.

Kiku would be sure to appreciate these, though Heracles had no idea what his boyfriend would be using them for. Quite frankly, he didn’t want to know.

…The Greece part is longer than the Harry part *facepalms* Ugh, why is it so much harder to write Harry Potter characters in relation to Hetalia characters? *sulks* It’s totally not fair.

Anyway, more mysterious happenings are happening~ Can you guess why Kiku wants those pictures of England? No, he’s not going to make a sexy body pillow of him – though I wish he would *pouts* One of my friends has a custom ordered body pillow with sexy Zero on one side and sexy Kaname on the other. I wish I had a USUK Hetalia one *pouts more*

Well, SG-chan loves you all for putting up with her~ Don’t forget to review, and also go vote in my poll and read my Nyotalia USUK/UKUS HP story. If you’re having trouble finding it, here’s a hint: Put on the rated M filter *le wink*

Anywho, onto the anon review replies:

anonymous: M-mental illnesses? Where does it say that? Or are you in my head? *stares suspiciously* I’m watching you.

ATC: Hmm, I’ll have to go find that comic now; it sounds interesting ;3 The mysterious book collector, yes, we’ll get back to him. Eventually. These next couple of chapters are, unfortunately, mostly filler. Important filler though, cause it establishes character relations and shit like that ^^ These next couple of chapters are actually my attempt for the story to have more Harry Potter related scenes ^^; Key word: attempt. Oh, Harry’ll end up meeting some of the other UK sibs. Which ones, I shan’t say ;3 Ha ha, HetaXmas is getting rather long, isn’t it? x3 Thanks for reviewing!

ForeverHalfa: Well, I unfortunately haven’t watched the entire series of Doctor Who; maybe once I’m in college and I have more time to waste I will x3 Personally I love the Tenth and Eleventh Doctors equally, but that’s just me ^^ Glad you liked the chappie! ^^

Obligatory language key is not featuring in this chapter, though there are exactly five words of Italian.

“So that’s what that scar on your chest is,” Jack mused, his fingers splayed across Ianto’s bare chest.

“Hmm,” Ianto hummed in agreement. “That’s the Rift.”

“So when Billings went and loosed the Apocalypse…” Jack trailed off, his gaze raking over the scar just right of Ianto’s heart that, now that he thought about it, looked slightly green. He voiced his concern to Ianto, who chuckled slightly.

“All’s clear. It actually serves as a bit of a warning for me; green is all clear, blue is trouble but not too much, and red would be the end of the world.”

“Huh.” Jack rubbed a thumb over the scar, which, to his surprise, slithered under his touch.

“Probably reacting to the trace of the Rift still on you,” Ianto murmured. “It’s sensitive that way.”

“Are you that sensitive too?” Jack smirked, leaning down to steal a kiss.

“Tease,” the Welshman accused fondly, his arms coming around Jack’s neck to rest on his back. A slightly pensive expression crossed his face, followed by one of realization. “So that’s why.”

“Pardon?”

“The first time I met you, you seemed familiar. Now I know why.”

“Oh? Did you meet me sometime in the past?” Jack asked, his brow furrowing. “‘Cause I’m pretty sure I’d remember meeting someone as sexy as you.”

“No,” Ianto shook his head. “It was during the Cardiff Blitz while I passed by a hotel.”

“So when me and Tosh went back in time accidentally.” Jack’s hands were on autopilot now as they roamed over Ianto’s chest as though it were the first time; which it kind of was, because now Jack was wondering what other parts of Ianto represented.

“I always wondered why that building gave me the creeps,” Ianto remarked.

“So… is Rhiannon your actual sister?” Jack wondered. “‘Cause, y’know, she’s married and everything, so I’d think that’d be kinda hard to keep from her husband and kids.”

Ianto shook his head. “Rhi and I kind of… hit it off when she was a teenager.”

“You had sex with her?”

“No, though she was quite a looker back in the day,” Ianto recalled. “I guess she was what you’d call a kindred spirit. Besides, my actual sister doesn’t really like any of us, so it’s nice to have ‘family’ that doesn’t try to shoot me with a shotgun on sight.”

“Geez, with family like that it’s no wonder you seek contact with us lowly humans,” Jack drawled sarcastically. He smirked slightly as Ianto’s breath hitched when he ran over that one dip on his left side. Hmm, he’d have to ask what that one was later…

“Actually, I’m a bit of an exception,” the Welshman replied, his own hands going up to play with the nape of Jack’s hair. “We interact with our governments and leaders of course, but beyond that, none of us really form any lasting bonds with humans.” A solemn expression crossed Ianto’s face. “We live so long, sometimes things all mash together and it gets terribly confusing.”

“Are you going to stay?” Jack’s unasked plea of “Please stay” was evident in his eyes.

“Of course,” Ianto smiled, kissing Jack firmly on the lips. “Joining Torchwood was one of my more brilliant ideas I sometimes get. Besides, I like hanging out with you guys.”

“Are you going to tell the others?” Jack asked, shifting to lie next to Ianto as he shook the blankets slightly to allow both of them to fit underneath.

“I should,” Ianto said after a moment of contemplation. “You took it well enough, but you know what it is to keep secrets.”

“Plus I’m just that awesome.”

Ianto chuckled. “You sound like Prussia when you say that.”

“Isn’t Prussia, y’know, not a country anymore?” Jack asked with a raised eyebrow.

“It’s complicated,” Ianto explained. “I don’t fully understand it myself.”

“Oh, if you don’t understand then it must be terribly difficult,” Jack teased.

“Oh shut it,” Ianto retorted. “Go to sleep. I am actually here on business you know.”

“I’ll try not to keep you up too late,” Jack promised mischievously.

“You won’t be keeping me up at all in the near future if you don’t let me sleep,” Ianto promised.

“My hands are treacherous beings Lord Wales; I know not what they do!” Jack protested as one ‘treacherous being’ copped a feel.

“Good news Harry!” Luna chirped as she sat down next to the Boy-Who-Lived. “You don’t have to worry about any of the teachers trying to kill you this year!”

Nearly everyone in earshot did a spit-take.

“Christ, would you warn a guy before you say something like that?” Seamus spluttered as he grabbed a napkin and tried to wipe down his now syrupy robe front. “Seriously, you could do some serious damage to somebody if you just drop a bombshell on ‘em like that.”

“And Luna, just why were you trying to figure out if any of the teachers would kill me?” Harry asked, not quite sure he wanted the answer.

“Well, the Defense Teacher has tried to kill and/or maim you every single year, and since Professor Snape is our teacher this year, and none of the other professors have tried to kill you during your school career, I figure that you’re safe this year,” Luna explained.

“I’m… honored you’re that worried about me Luna.” Harry was trying to keep from laughing. “But what about Kirkland and Karpusi? Don’t they factor into this?”

“Professor Kirkland has been vouched for by a very good source, and Professor Karpusi is too lazy to be evil,” Luna stated matter-of-factly. At the incredulous stares she received, she elaborated. “How many successful dictators are there or were there that are lazy? Hmm?”

“That’s true,” Ron got out around a mouthful of food, causing those nearby to flinch disgustedly.

“Merlin’s beard Ron, chew with your mouth closed!” Ginny, being his sister, had no qualms about hitting him. “It’s disgusting!”

“Berating Ron on his eating habits?” Hermione asked as she sidled in between Ron and Ginny. “Again?”

Ron glared at the girls on both his sides, making sure to swallow his mouthful before speaking this time. “I like food, and Hogwarts has good food, okay? What’s so wrong with that?”

“You could try to be less ‘shoveling food down your throat like your life depended on it’ and more ‘just eating’,” Hermione drawled, smirking slightly at Ron.

“What, and waste away like Parkinson?” Ron snorted in reference to the female Slytherin who never ate anything beyond salads and a bit of fish.

“You’d just be controlling your intake instead of letting it run rampant,” Hermione retorted. “Believe me, you could never fall down to her level.”

“A bird couldn’t fall down to Parkinson’s level,” Harry snorted. “Luna, what are you doing?” he asked as he felt one of her hands on his back, rubbing in circles.

“Oh, whenever diets and birds are mentioned alongside food, the Villowing vortchels tend to show up and cause backaches, so I’m taking preemptive measures,” the blonde informed him.

“Oh. Thanks Luna,” Harry smiled at her.

“Hey, what about me?” Seamus complained from Luna’s other side.

She turned grey-blue eyes on him, never stopping rubbing Harry’s back. “The vortchels don’t like Irish people; their blood tastes too much like four-leaf clovers.” The unspoken message of ‘Back the fuck off’ penetrated Seamus’s thick skull and he turned to lay his head on Dean’s shoulder, a childish pout on his face.

“You get too cozy over there and I’ll hex your bits off,” Ginny cheerfully warned Seamus.

“You’re all so cruel!” the redhead cried, dramatically waving his arms out.

“Shut up Seam,” Dean sighed. “You’re not helping your case any at all.”

“Hermione, why don’t you rub Ronald’s back?” Luna suggested.

“Wh-what?” the bushy-haired girl exclaimed, her face turning an interesting shade of red. “Why on earth – virkels, or whatever they’re called don’t exist!”

“Hey Dean, mind if I rub your back?” Ginny inquired coquettishly.

“In the interest of preventing vortchels from making my life a living hell, I accept your offer,” Dean replied solemnly, though the grin that graced his face nearly immediately afterward ruined the effect.

Hermione muttered something too low to be heard by anyone else as she flushed deeply while Ron merely had a small shy smile on his face. Luna hummed contentedly. It seemed her work here was done.

Dear Mamma,

I’m doing well, thank you for asking. I hope you’re feeling all right; you said in your last letter you might be coming down with a cold. I’ve been keeping an eye on Dray lately. He’s been acting strangely, probably because he’s got a super-secret mission the Dark Lord gave him. How do I know? You know better than anyone that it’s impossible to resist Sicilian charm Mamma~

He’s been reading through all these old books though. And when I say old, I mean old. Seriously, these books probably date all the way back to the Founders’ era! A lot of them have to do with different rituals, mainly sealing things away. That could be applied to anything though, and Dray knows it, the smarmy little bastard. Hopefully I’ll figure something out. Wouldn’t do to let us get killed, now would it?

Could you please inform Signore Vargas that, yes, Professor Kirkland does have gargantuan eyebrows. I’m not sure why he wants to know that, but I’m not going to ask. Also, please tell Uncle Feli that the pasta over here actually does taste okay, and it certainly doesn’t taste like rotten scones. I don’t see what that would have to do with anything either.

You know, sometimes I get the feeling that you know something I don’t.

Don’t forget to take your medicine Mamma, and keep Signore Vargas from spontaneously combusting. I’ve heard that can be quite messy.

Love always, Blaise

“Mail’s here,” Lovino Vargas grunted from where he was sitting at the kitchen table as Rosaria Vargas plodded in, still clad in her sky blue elephant-patterned pajamas. “There’s something from your brat.”

“Blaise wrote?” Rosaria asked, picking up the rather thick piece of parchment envelope. A smile replaced her usually stoic expression as she cracked the wax seal that kept it shut. She ‘hmm’ed as she read the first bit of the letter. “You were right; England is teaching there.”

“Well, it is his school, it makes sense. Don’t know why you had to send him to a fucking British school in the first place,” Lovino grumbled. Rosaria smirked slightly.

“I have my reasons.” She chuckled. “It seems Veneziano told Blaise some horror stories about English food and he’s disproved at least one of them.” She got no answer that time besides muffled grumblings from Lovino as he buried his head in his arms. “What’s got you in such a mood?”

“Fuck off,” Romano demanded, though the severity of the request was somewhat lessened because it wasn’t very loud.

“Let me guess, did Spain leave already?” Rosaria knew she was right when Lovino didn’t deny it. “Dio mio, you are so hopeless. You could at least let him know you’ll miss him when he’s gone you know. Let him know you love him and not just his dick.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Lovino snarled, his eyes flashing angrily at her. “He’s busy with work and doesn’t need me bothering him.”

Rosaria spent a moment just observing him before she spoke again. “If you’re this worked up why don’t you go visit Veneziano? I’m sure you’ll have fun berating him on his choice of spouse if nothing else.”

“I’ll be seeing him next month anyway,” Romano replied as he got up and ambled over to the refrigerator.

“Oh, is that when your next stich’n'bitch is?” Rosaria inquired as she took out her own wand – 12 inch olive, mermaid scale core – and tapped Blaise’s letter twice. The parchment glowed green before it crumpled in on itself and disappeared, transported to the box she kept all the other letters her ‘son’ sent her.

“Stop calling it that,” Lovino groaned before he gulped down his glass of milk he’d just poured. “Or I swear to God, I will string you up by your thumbs.”

“So cruel Lovinito,” Rosaria pouted. “And here I thought you were a devout Catholic; taking the Lord’s name in vain, really!”

“Shut up!”

The Italian words bear no translating because they have already been used in a previous chapter ^^

Again, soooo sorry this chappie was late. But hey, y’all get some Spamano, and LunaHarry and RonHermione hints! ^^ Oh, and guess what? Iiiiiittt’s headcanon time!

*clears throat* Ahem.

Okey, so ya know that Lovi and Feli’s formal names are Veneziano and Romano Italy. So in my mind, while they do represent North and South Italy at meetings, Feli is more a representative of Venice while Lovi is of Rome. So that is how Rosaria is Sicily ^^

Welp, don’t forget to vote in the poll for which Hetalia story you want posted first, Spellound or Love in G Major! Ooh, and I started posting my present for Neelh, who was the 100th reviewer of this story ^^ It’s a USUK/UKUS Nyotalia HP oneshot collection ^^ So go ahead and read that if you like! ^^ *shoos readers in story’s general direction*

Chapter 1: A Return to Sheep Link
Chapter 2: A-Hunting We Will Go; For New Teachers Link
Chapter 3: Staff (Not the Wooden Kind) Troubles Link

A shoutout to NinjaTerra and MoonSparrow; I’m really glad you guys could make it! ^^ I’m glad you liked the plays too ^_^

Okey, onto the anonymous review replies.

anonymous: YES. I have seen that video and it is HILARIOUS! For a while I had the mp3 of that skit on my mp3 player until I lost it ^^; I’m glad you liked the chapter, and thanks for reviewing!

foreverhalfa: Yay, you got it! x3 I love making all these subtle little puns involving those two; they’re so fun x3 And “Vati!” XDXD Chibi Prussia is so adorable, and I love Mother Britannia showing up and demanding Chibi England’s pants be returned x3 Thanks for reviewing!

captain awesome: I’m glad you’re liking the story! ^^ My friends think I’m crazy (well, more than they already knew x3) for talking about countries like they’re people, but I love writing and talking about them so much that they’ve just taken over my life x3 Especially our sexy Brit ;3 Thanks for reviewing, and I hope you keep reading! ^^

Nanabug: *blushes* Thanks, I was worried about the dream sequence cause SG-chan hasn’t written much smut (or almost smut) besides some micro-fills on the kink meme (which she will deanon someday… maybe x3;;). But apparently I’m not too bad because I haven’t gotten any flames yet. I’m glad you’re liking the story (even if it’s just for the almost smut xD) and thanks for reviewing~

OIWJFJOOOOOO: You are seriously the third Minnesotan reviewer I’ve met in, like, less than a week xD And you’re right, Minnesota is totally an awesome state! Minnesota women have the longest life expectancy in the world of 79 years ya know. No joke, that is a true (if random) fact. SG-chan’s good with random facts XDXDXDXD And YES WE NEED MORE SNOW GODDAMMIT Seriously, I want more snow. I really wish you had an actual account so I could have replied sooner, but I’m just glad you reviewed at all ^^ Hopefully you’ll continue reading this story for the actual plot (which kinda starts this chappie xD;) and not just cause I’m Minnesotan

The obligatory language key which was not obligatory last chappie is now obligatory again! ^^

Ancient English (Iggy’s spells, etc.): “{insert text}”

French: “insert text”

Greek: “\insert text\”

Parseltongue: “*insert text*”

No Gaelic this chappie ;_;

——————————————————————————–

If the moods of nations somehow influenced their weather, then it was quite probable that there was a typhoon in Greece right now. The nation himself was in a dour mood and met each person bidding him “Good morning!” with the same blank scowl he usually gave Turkey when he was trying to be friendly with Japan. In fact, his sour mood this morning was, as many things in his life, Japan-influenced, as England found out when he came down to breakfast – a somewhat rare occurrence as he normally had his faery friends bring him food – food from the kitchen, mind you, not food from the actual realm of the fae.

“Happy New Year,” Arthur greeted the other staff members, several who were having more than a little difficulty matching the somewhat cheery young man of this morning with the rumored to be insane History teacher and leather-clad rebel of the previous night.

“\Why are you… so happy?\” Heracles grumbled, too upset to bother speaking in English.

“\Why are you so grumpy?\” Arthur replied. “\Did Kiku not put out or something?\” From the way Greece’s glare increased to near-scorching levels, he seemed to have hit the nail on the head.

“\I miss him,\” Greece moaned as he laid his head on the table. “\I wanna cuddle… with him and my cats… and just sleep… the day away…\” Heracles looked so forlorn that Arthur couldn’t help himself as he ruffled the Grecian’s hair.

“\Chin up old chap; come Christmas and Yuletide we have time off, and you can visit Kiku then.\”

“\Why the hell… are you so cheery?\” Greece turned so he was looking at England. “\You couldn’t… have gotten laid… since Francis is gone and… Alfred isn’t here…\”

England seethed, desperately fighting down the urge to blush. Damn his pale complexion that never tanned like someone else’s (notAlfrednotAlfrednot) did! “\Could you not talk about the frog in my presence? It’s bad enough he and Will are all… close without you adding insult to injury!\”

“\Why would you… be so happy though?\” Heracles wondered. His eyes widened in surprise suddenly. “\Oh Zeus. What… did you summon?\”

“\Wh- oh, that is just like you! Sure, I accidentally summon a demon at a meeting while piss drunk, and suddenly you all think it’s my favorite past time! Well, I have news for you!\” England hissed, jabbing a finger at Heracles. “\The only fucking thing I’m to blame for is the defeat of the Spanish Armada!\”

And with that cryptic snarl, England left the hall, suddenly not at all hungry.

“Good morning Minerva,” Albus greeted his deputy as he sat down. He took in the confused expressions around the table and the murmur of gossip among the students. “What did I miss?”

——————————————————————————–

Arthur dashed the chalk against the board angrily. He’d been in a slightly better – if somewhat embarrassed mood – this morning, and then Greece had to go and ruin it just because Kiku wouldn’t have sex through a fireplace… Well, good on Kiku, give the cat bastard what for! And oh Donn forgive him, now he was sounding like South Italy – what was his name again? Something cheese-related…

“Excuse me, Professor Kirkland?”

England turned, his expression slightly softening as it was Miss Lovegood asking the question. It wasn’t just the fact that she was able to see Minty. That alone put Arthur in a happier mood. “Yes, Miss Lovegood?”

“May I go use the lavatory?”

He almost face palmed. And here he was hoping for an intelligent question… “Yes you may, but hurry up.” Arthur finished writing on the board in a slightly less violent manner than before as the rest of the 5th year Ravenclaws filed in.

It was only a moment later that he heard a short cry, followed by an exclamation of, “That crazy bitch!”

He turned to see one of the girls – Turpin, he recalled – wringing her reddened hands.

“Miss Turpin?” Arthur came over. “Are you all right?”

“No!” The girl cried. “Looney, she did something to her books and they stung my hands!” Lisa rubbed them harder.

“Hold them out.” The girl did so. As Arthur studied the rash that was quickly spreading he asked,” So what were you doing with Miss Lovegood’s books?”

“W-well, I was g-going to ask her what the homework in Arithmancy was, but I saw she wasn’t here s-so I went to go look and see if she had it!” Arthur raised an eyebrow and ‘hmm’ed, deciding not to comment on the fact that he knew for a fact that the students in 5th year that took Arithmancy were working on a year-long project right now so there was no homework.

“It isn’t too serious,” he decided. “Just a mild case of quickly spreading poison oak.” Upon the girl’s outraged look, he explained: “It’s a plant that gives you a very itchy rash. Just try not to itch it and go down to Madame Pomfrey’s. I’ll write you a pass.”

Lisa nodded, her hands shaking slightly as she took the note. “Oh, and Miss Turpin?” She turned at his quiet call. “10 points from Ravenclaw for attempting to vandalize your classmate’s books.” Lisa blushed heavily at getting caught before she rushed out of the classroom.

“Just a mild case of poison oak,” Arthur assured the rest of the students. “Nothing dangerous. Now, if you’d all open your books to-” He broke off in a coughing fit. “Sorry. To where we left off in taking notes on-” He stopped again as he began to cough heavily.

“Are you all right Professor?” Zachary Metlon inquired.

“Yes, right as-” By now it sounded as though the blond were hacking up a lung. It grew worse and Arthur collapsed to his knees.

“Professor!” Kelly Amel came up to him and gasped. “He’s coughing up blood! Somebody go get Madame Pomfrey!” she ordered.

Zachary took off running just as Luna came back in. “What’s going on?” she asked.

“Kirkland’s coughing up blood!” one of her male classmates exclaimed excitedly.

“Professor, don’t move around too much,” Kelly told the blond.

“Obviously,” Arthur gasped between hacks.

“Do you need any help?” Luna asked.

“Well, Madame Pomfrey should be here soon,” Kelly said. “And I’ve had some first-aid basic training so I should be able to keep him stable until she gets here.”

“All right, what exactly is going on in here?” The woman in question swept into the room and her eyes widened. “Merlin, what on earth happened?”

“No one knows, he just started coughing,” Kelly started as Pomfrey shooed her away.

“Come now Kirkland, don’t try to move,” Poppy scolded.

Arthur shook his head. “No.. need to tell Albus… Whitehaven…” He broke off coughing.

“All of you, shoo!” Poppy scolded as she supported the man, who was surprisingly light for his size. “We’ll talk to Albus after we get you taken care of. Now be quiet!”

——————————————————————————–

“Jack.” The name was spoken with a slight waver.

“Ianto.” The reply was playful, as if the speaker were engaged in a rather fun game.

“We’re not playing naked hide-and-seek again – not after the last time – aah! No biting!” Ianto Jones – a slight relation to one Alfred F. – snapped as he slapped at Captain Jack Harkness, the leader of Torchwood.

“Not my fault the Rift decided to choose that exact minute to spit out some poor soul,” Jack chuckled as he went back to biting at Ianto’s neck like some terrible parody of a vampire. “As for the biting – everyone knows we’re together, why hide it? If Owen’s giving you trouble again just deck him.”

“Ha ha, very funny,” Ianto growled as he high-fived Jack’s face – cause leaders don’t get bitchslapped, no sirree, they don’t. “Not all of us are immortal or immune to Owen trying to get revenge on us.” Well, not that Ianto wasn’t sort of immortal, he just hadn’t quite gotten around to telling Jack yet. Or the rest of his team. Or really any humans he’d ever known. Rhi didn’t count because, well, she didn’t. He would, eventually, it would just take some (a lot) of courage (and possibly copious amounts of alcohol) on his part.

“Paperwork,” Ianto finally decided – and this seemed to at least slow Jack down a little, as the time-traveling captain stopped molesting Ianto’s neck – he didn’t want to come into work looking like one of London’s whores thank you very much – and growled slightly.

“Hate paperwork,” Jack sighed. “Why don’t you leave it to Gwen or Tosh – or Owen even, he needs something to do in his undead time.”

“They can’t pry details out of you with sex,” Ianto replied as he concentrated – again – on filling out the forms in front of him. “And if they try I will be extremely annoyed.”

“You’ll spill hot tea down their fronts, huh?” Jack chuckled, leaning over to molest poor Ianto’s ear now.

“Jack, I’ll banish you to the work couch for two weeks.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Try me,” the Welshman challenged, not once looking up from his papers. The beginning of Jack’s stareoff with the back of Ianto’s head was ended by a cell phone buzzing. “What the hell is it now,” Ianto grumbled to himself, hoping it wasn’t one of his siblings drunk-texting him again. His eyes widened slightly as he read who the text was from. “Wonder why he’s texting me.”

“Who?” Jack leaned over to properly read the text only to be foiled as Ianto snapped his phone shut.

“A colleague of mine back from my days in Torchwood One. He needs a bit of… help up in Scotland.”

“Scotland?” Jack frowned at his lover’s dodgy behavior. “What, he need help with the Loch Ness Monster or something?”

“He’s not a former lover if that’s what you’re thinking,” Ianto said, hoping to forestall any jealousy. “He just needs a bit of help, and I’m the only one available.”

“Oh? Does he have a name?” Jack was only asking because he was curious – if Ianto didn’t tell him then he could always steal his phone later and have Tosh hack it.

“Arthur’s my half-brother Jack,” Ianto sighed.

“Oh? How come you’ve never told us about him?” Jack asked curiously.

“You’ve told us how much about your past and/or family?” Ianto deadpanned.

“Point taken,” Jack muttered.

“We’re not very close,” Ianto admitted after a moment. “None of us are really.”

“Oh, so you have more siblings stashed away somewhere?” Jack gasped in mock affront.

“Scotland, Ireland and England to be exact,” Ianto replied, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

“How long will you be gone?” Jack sighed, pouting slightly.

“I’m not sure; probably a week at the most.”

“What?” Jack blurted. “Outrageous. You’re staying here where you belong.”

“Jack,” Ianto protested as he tried to rise and felt Jack pushing down on him. “Jack, let me up.”

“No; I’m grounding you.”

“Grounding me? Jack, I’m not doing anything dangerous!” Well, not too much more dangerous than is normal.

“Going to Scotland counts as dangerous.”

“Jack!”

“Ianto.”

“Jack.” The Welshman’s patience was running thin, and it was apparent from the growl in his voice.

“Ianto?” The time-traveler was beginning to feel slightly like he’d just annoyed a whole battalion of Daleks. “How am I going to function without you?” he whined in an attempt to change the subject – slightly.

“Well maybe now you’ll get a taste of how we felt whenever you went off with that Doctor friend of yours,” Ianto grumbled.

“I left a note!” Jack protested. He quailed slightly as Ianto whipped around and fixed him with a glare.

“I’m going to Scotland to help Arthur, Jack. Besides, this’ll be good for you; give you time to catch up on all the paperwork you’re supposed to have been doing.”

Jack pouted, his mind already whirring with ideas as to how to track Ianto to wherever he’d be going to in Scotland.

——————————————————————————–

“There’s no reason for your lungs to suddenly give out,” Poppy grumbled to herself. “No existing conditions, no stimulus for it at all!” She scowled at her unconscious patient who was giving her so much trouble. “Not to mention you’re on the brink of malnourishment. Merlin’s beard, once you’re conscious I’m going to stuff a dozen nutrient potions down your throat!”

“I thought mediwitches took an oath to help, not hurt, people Poppy.”

“Hello Albus,” the woman nodded shortly. “He was asking for you earlier.”

“Did he say anything else?”

“Something about Whitehaven,” Poppy divulged, glancing at the headmaster out of the corner of her eye. She frowned harder at the calculating expression on his face. “Albus, if you know what’s happening to him…” She trailed off threateningly.

“It’s nothing you or I can do anything about Poppy,” Albus sighed, suddenly looking very much his age. “I wish we could, but we can’t.”

“Is it some kind of a curse?”

“You might say that,” Dumbledore nodded slowly. “It can’t be ‘cured’ per say; not in this life.”

——————————————————————————–

In case anyone is wondering where/what Whitehaven is:

According to Google, there is a section of England, Cumbria, which is known as “the lungs of England”. Whitehaven is a town that’s roughly in the middle of Cumbria. As to why/what happened to/in Whitehaven, well, you can all take a very educated guess, but it will be explained next chappie.

Also, Torchwood! ^o^ For those of you who don’t know what the heck it is, it’s a spinoff series of Doctor Who with a very, very smexy main pairing of Ianto Jones and Jack Harkness. You don’t really have to know much about the series, as SG-chan will attempt to include brief (and hopefully thorough/concise) explanations with the Torchwood stuff. As for why Ianto is Wales, well, I warned you that if you ask me I will provide you with a rant, so you’ve been warned.

I know that a couple of the Ravenclaws I used don’t exist; that’s why this is fanfiction. I’m not sure if it was ever said what year Lisa Turpin was in, so I just put her in fifth year. Also, Sneaky!Luna is totally boss. Just saying.

I should get my laptop by the end of next week so I’ll be starting to post audio files of the chapters then. Hope you all enjoyed the chappie, and don’t forget to review! ^^

Also, I took a quiz yesterday to see what Hetalia character I am. I got America. Have I mentioned before that I’m an Anglophile? *raep face*

Also, flashback warning! Hmm, SG-chan has a lot of these surprisingly enough…

Okey, that bit of grandstanding done with, onto the anon review replies! ^^

foreverhalfa: Yay, I’ve corrupted another one! x3 I don’t know about the whole audition thing; I’ve only ever known Torchwood as the show it is now ^^; And yes, go watch the Doctor! For his awesomeness is the only awesomeness that can possibly surpass Prussia’s… And here’s the next chappie~

anonymous: Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle! ^J^ All kidding aside, more Torchwood lovelies ^^ And my headcanon that Tosh is a yaoi fangirl… x3 I know, poor poor Greece *pets cat* I pet my cat as a token of my understanding of your grief (considering SG-chan is the one who wrote this tho… XDXDXD). Luna is a BAMF. Hermione is a BAMF. Ginny is pretty BAMF too. So why don’t they get more fucking screentime? It’s like Tenten from Naruto x( Hope you enjoy this chappie! ^^

ATC: Well, better late than never! ^^ Yours is one of the reviews I look forward to cause you usually give me concrit; concrit is important for SG-chan because otherwise she doesn’t know how to improve her writing because her friends don’t watch Hetalia *grows mushrooms* That aside… There aren’t going to be any blatant smut scenes here on FF. I think I stated that in the beginning, but I’ll clarify here. I have two sex scenes planned for this story, both USUK/UKUS. They will not show up here cause FF doesn’t like that, but they will be on my homepage for people who would like to read them once the chapters they occur in have been posted (which won’t be for, like, at least 10 chapters XDXDXD). They’re not going to be integral to the story, just nice little add-ons. All serious stuff discussed, I’m glad you liked Will’s appearance! ^^ He’s a fun guy to write, and I get to indulge my little OTP that I never knew existed of Scotland/France x3 Yeah, cliffhangers. Not as bad as later ones though… *evil chuckle* Teensy plot elements will be cleared up in this chappie, but the actual plot progresses pretty slowly – that is, the action plot. Romance plot, humor plot, drama plot, they’re all progressing at different rates; I think the romance plot is the farthest right now xD;; I know, I’m so cruel to poor Greece! ;_; Maybe if enough people request it I’ll post a Giripan oneshot of the night Kiku and Heracles meet again in this story ^^ Here’s hoping you like this chappie!

And here be the obligatory language key:

Ancient English (Iggy’s spells, etc.): “{insert text}”

French: “insert text“

Greek: “\insert text\”

Parseltongue: “*insert text*”

“{My lord, you shouldn’t bother with this!}” the young woman chided as she took the cloth the boy had been set on repairing with his magic.

“{But, everyone’s fighting over me and I-I can’t do anything b-because I’m too small… I just want to help,}” Albion whispered miserably.

“{So you want to help fight?}” she asked, her grey eyes filled with compassion.

“{Yes, yes! It isn’t fair for the person this impacts the most to be left out!}” Albion protested, his green eyes sparking with indignation and anger.

“{As you yourself said my lord, you are too small to fight. Let the knights do their duty in serving you, and in return, keep as healthy as you can manage.}” The young woman took his hands in hers as she knelt to his level. “{Sleep, my lord. Come morning I will begin teaching you to sew, that you need not waste all that Master Myrddin has taught you.}”

Albion nodded sullenly, trailing behind her as they walked to his room. “{When do you suppose Master will be back?}” he asked quietly.

“{I don’t know my lord,}” she sighed. “{I don’t know.}”

“Good Lord,” Ianto chided as he entered the infirmary. “You’re a mess.”

“Shut up,” Arthur muttered disparagingly as he struggled to sit up. He broke out into a soft coughing fit as the movement caused his chest to flare up in pain. While magic could help heal a nation’s wounds – and really, they were damn fast healers anyway – it was next to useless if the injury was brought about by something that happened to the actual land the nation represented. “Either get lost or sit down; I don’t know why Will called you,” he grumbled.

“Probably because I’m the only one you have enough patience to deal with right now,” Ianto said, not moving from where he stood. “What are you doing?” he asked as the blond threw back his covers.

“Getting out of bed,” Arthur snapped in reply. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Arthur, you’re going to hurt yourself!” Ianto protested as he watched the pain quickly cross the blond’s face as he scooted over so he was now sitting on the edge of his bed.

“I’ve survived the fucking Blitz, I can survive Whitehaven being attacked,” England growled.

“Goddess above, you’re going to kill yourself,” Ianto sighed and walked over to grab hold of his brother’s arm to steady him.

“Let me go!” England batted at Ianto’s grip rather ineffectively because of the pain caused by moving too much.

“You’re only hurting yourself by forcing onwards; you have to rest!”

“I didn’t rest in ’41, I won’t rest now,” Arthur seethed.

“You were alone then asides from us and the other Commonwealth; you aren’t now!”

“I may as well be!”

“Why do you have to be so damned stubborn?” Wales blurted exasperatedly, just barely keeping himself from shaking his brother and injuring him further.

“It’s about the only thing any of us have in common now, isn’t it?” the other spat as he yanked away his arm.

“Get back into bed Arthur,” Ianto ordered, dark blue eyes stormy with concern as.

“No,” the blond refused through gritted teeth.

“Don’t make me knock you out,” the Welshman threatened, crossing his arms. “Will called me for a reason and I dropped pretty much everything to come here and help you so you’d better damned well appreciate it little brother.” Blazing green and stormy blue glared at one another, neither man willing to give in.

“Now now, what’s going on here? I’m gone for two minutes and you have a visitor?” Poppy bustled in, effectively breaking England and Wales’ staring contest. “What are you doing?” the mediwitch demanded. “You’re not fit to be moving around!”

“That’s what I said,” Ianto said, giving Arthur a meaningful look.

“Piss off,” he grumbled in reply.

“Don’t you start fighting,” Poppy warned. “Get back into bed Professor Kirkland.”

“Do tell Will that I’m going to torture him most heinously once we meet on my terms,” England informed Ianto sweetly as he was manhandled back into bed. “I’d do it myself but apparently I’m being confined here. I suppose I’ll have to give you the password to my quarters.”

“What?” Ianto blinked in surprise. “Why would I need your password?”

“Because that’s where you’re staying,” Arthur told him. His expression lit up in sudden realization. “Didn’t Will tell you that you’d effectively be working as my substitute?”

“No, he failed to mention that,” Ianto said in a voice that sounded rather small. “I wonder why.”

“Do we have any idea yet as to why Voldemort chose to attack this village?” Dumbledore asked through the two-way mirrors he himself had enchanted to be safe from all methods of eavesdropping.

“The place has been nearly burned to the ground,” Alastor Moody informed him. “There are a few survivors; children who went to school a town over and a few people who’d been prudent enough to upgrade the wards on their homes with Voldemort’s return; they were alerted and Flooed to safety.” the ex-Auror’s infamous eye fixed on Dumbledore, whirling as he spoke. “A man who claims to have seen the start of the attack before he evacuated his family says that the first place attacked was the house of an old man who, according to the locals, collected a number of rare tomes, magical or otherwise. He was found dead in the wreckage. The healers haven’t figured out whether he died from torture or smoke inhalation but it’s probably a moot point.”

Albus rubbed at his temples. “So he was looking for something. But what?”

“I’ll see if I can find an inventory of the man’s books, but don’t get your hopes up. With so many people dead, answers to our questions won’t be so forthcoming.”

“Thank you Alastor, you’ve been a great help.” With that, Albus cut the communiqué. He sighed. “What on Earth are you up to now tom?”

Ianto cleared his throat nervously. “Um, hello, I’m Ianto Jones. I’ll be subbing for Professor Kirkland while he’s recuperating, so could anyone tell me where you are in your books?”

“We don’t use books,” a second-year Ravenclaw piped up. “Professor Kirkland lectures us while we take down notes.”

“Of course,” Ianto muttered. “He would choose to do it that way. “All right, could you tell me exactly what you’d been learning about then?”

“We’re in the Renaissance period right now,” a Slytherin boy near the back spoke up. “Yesterday we started covering how the spread of Italy’s culture affected the Wizarding World.”

“Um, well, during the Renaissance period, erm, uh… you guys have all heard of Michelangelo right?” Ianto was grasping at straws now. History never really was his forte; he was perfectly content to quietly fight whatever came through the Rift. He liked to think he performed well during a crisis, but usually those crises were violent in nature – he had no idea what to do in this one.

Fortunately, salvation came in the form of an unwelcome visitor.

“Ianto!” Said man looked up, almost horrified to see Jack Harkness, trenchcoat and all, leaning against the doorframe. “You don’t write, you don’t call; I missed you!”

“Jack, I just saw you yesterday,” Ianto sighed. He could feel a headache coming on. “How did you get here anyway?” Another though occurred to him. “You didn’t leave anyone else without telling them where you were going, did you?” At the slightly shifty expression followed quickly by a lady-killing smile (that did not work on Ianto, thank you very much) he gaped. “You did!” the Welshman accused. “You bastard! We were bad off enough when you left with that Doctor fellow with no warning, but now you just show up here after I told you specifically that I could handle it, and you – you bastard! Get out!” Ianto was extremely pissed now and he wasn’t sure how long he could contain his temper if Jack stayed in his presence much longer.

“Hey, I’ll have you know that I did leave a note!” Jack protested. “I explained to everyone that we were eloping-”

“What?”

“-not to expect us back for a few days, and if something that could potentially end the world came up, then to call me.”

“Out,” Ianto growled, and stalked across the class to grab hold of Jack’s arm. “Write down the ten worst ways you can think of dying – be creative! – and if I’m not back by the time you’re done, take a nap or do homework from one of your other classes.”

The students all exchanged glances as they heard an, “Ow! Stop gripping so hard! OW!” from down the hall.

“This should be interesting,” muttered the Slytherin boy who’d told Ianto what they were studying.

“Where are you taking me anyway?” Jack asked, wondering when exactly Ianto had gotten so strong because he was pretty sure that he was going to bruise later where Ianto was grabbing him.

“I’m going to personally throw you from the front entrance,” Ianto replied darkly.

“Could you at least tell me before you dismember me why you never told any of us about this?” Jack’s tone wasn’t accusatory like Ianto would have thought. “About magic?”

“How’d you arrive at that conclusion?” Ianto hoped his voice wasn’t wavering. There was a reason his siblings never let him attend meetings as the UK’s representative!

“Well, it’s kind of obvious,” Jack deadpanned with a slight smirk. “Plus there’s a plaque outside that says “Witchcraft and Wizardry”.”

“How’d you get here anyway?”

“Had Tosh hack your phone,” Jack explained, grinning unrepentantly. “Did a little digging in some of the restricted files only I have access to, and things snowballed from there.”

“This is only a onetime thing you know,” Ianto explained quietly. “I spend barely any time in this world at all – I only came to check on Arthur, and only stayed because he needed someone to teach while he’s recuperating.”

“You a teacher?” Jack chuckled. “Ianto, you couldn’t teach me how to ‘brew tea properly’; you can’t teach kids. School’s pretty dry anyway.”

“Some of it, yes,” Ianto agreed slightly. “But not all. Come along now, don’t dawdle.”

“Wait, you’re seriously going to throw me out?” Jack cried. “Still? After I was all caring and didn’t kick up a fuss that you’ve practically been lying to me since we first met?”

“Now you listen here Jack Harkness,” Ianto retorted, sticking a threatening finger in his face. “How many times have you kept the truth from us, sometimes in the face of a flat-out interrogation! Any lying from me is by omission and the fact that I couldn’t have told you or I’d be breaking the law!”

A loud clatter punctuated his heated exclamation and the quarrelling lovers turned to see what had made such a ruckus. Arthur stood by a suit of armor that, judging from its position, he seemed to have just knocked over.

“Hello Ianto, you never saw me here, understand?” the blond ordered.

“Goddess above Arthur, you’re seriously going to kill yourself!” Ianto exclaimed exasperatedly.

“I’m not spending another night in the infirmary,” Arthur protested. “Keira only just managed to foil two of Peter’s pranks, as apparently since I’m immobile I’m a good target.”

“That’s your brother?” Jack tilted his head sideways as if to change his perception. “You don’t look it.”

“We’re half brothers,” Arthur snapped. “And who the hell are you?”

“Captain Jack Harkness,” the time-traveler introduced himself.

“Oh, you’re Ianto’s ‘Captain Jack’?” Arthur’s smile was far from the sweetness his voice was. “You should know then, that if you scratch right under-”

Ianto quickly clapped a hand over Arthur’s mouth. “Yes, yes, let’s not tell him such things, hmm?” Stormy blue glared into mischievous jade.

“Oh, you mean the spot behind his left knee?” Jack smirked at Ianto’s shocked expression. “I notice things,” he sing-songed.

“Right; Arthur, no talking, Jack, I’m still throwing you out,” Ianto declared.

“Aww!” Jack pouted. “But I’ll be missing out on so much fun!”

“So you didn’t invite him?” Arthur asked curiously, directing a glance Ianto’s way.

“No, he stalked me here,” Ianto told him through gritted teeth.

“And you haven’t told him yet?” Arthur’s eyebrows shot up.

“I’ll get around to it!” Ianto insisted.

“Haven’t told me what?” Jack didn’t like being in the dark. Being in the dark usually led to lots of pain and sometimes death.

“Are you mad? Didn’t you realize any of the repercussions this could have had?” Arthur hissed, looking very much maternal as he put his hands on his hips. “True it’s not like many people know your group exists, but keeping this from them? At least the people I normally work with know! And before you say anything, this teaching stint does not count.”

“Wait, you told him about Torchwood?” Jack demanded.

“No!” Ianto protested.

“I helped found your organization, lad,” Arthur snorted as he smirked at Jack.

“I though you said he was your younger brother.” Jack’s gaze slid back to Ianto.

“He is,” Ianto mumbled.

“Ianto, how old are you?”

“I don’t know Jack,” Ianto groaned.

“No, seriously, cause, well, I’m not too old, but I like to know the age of my partner so I can kind of figure out what they might like, ya know.”

“Oh, so you’re having sex with him and he doesn’t know?” Arthur facepalmed. “You could’ve gotten some sort of alien STD or something!”

“Okay, one, I use protection,” Ianto glowered. “Second, you’re younger than me, stop poking your nose into my sex life! I certainly don’t try to trap you and Alfred in a closet while you’re both drunk off your asses!”

“There you are!”

The three turned to see an irate Poppy stalking their way. “Back to bed for you Professor Kirkland!” the mediwitch ordered.

“But I’m – I don’t-” Arthur stuttered as she prodded him along, both from surprise and in reaction to Ianto’s retort. “Ianto! Don’t you dare think you can weasel your way out of this one! If you don’t tell him I will!”

The two men looked after Arthur as he was manhandled back to his prison – er, the healing clutches of Madame Pomfrey.

“I’m guessing magic people don’t live too much longer than normal people,” Jack remarked casually.

“Twenty or thirty years on average, sometimes more depending on a person’s innate power,” Ianto replied.

“You don’t know how old you are,” Jack stated.

“I have theories,” Ianto said as he met Jack’s gaze.

“You’ve got some ‘splaining to do Ianto,” Jack murmured as he slipped a hand into Ianto’s.

“I suppose I do,” the Welshman sighed as he gave him a small smile.

Omake:

“Fucker left us again!” Owen Harper yelled, falling back in his swivel chair.

“What’s the commotion?” Gwen Davies nee Cooper asked as she took off her jacket, having only just arrived at the Hub.

“Jack’s gone,” their resident medic snarled, his face set in a deeper scowl than usual. “Again.”

“And he took Ianto with him,” Toshiko Sato offered, a slightly evil smirk on her face as she handed a note to Gwen. Gwen decided not to dwell on the smirk, as the last time she’d gotten involved in Tosh’s thought processes she’d ended up having to go through hours of security tapes in search of any, ahem, activities Jack and Ianto may have gotten up to.

So she read the paper.

Dear Team, the letter addressed.
Ianto has finally stopped being such a prude, so we’ve eloped. We’re on our honeymoon right now, so don’t worry about us. Also, Owen, don’t blow the place up while we’re gone. Gwen, I know Rhys is probably lonely, so go back home and play your own naked hide-and-seek with him. And Tosh, change it so your screensaver isn’t (obviously photoshopped (I’m way bigger than that!)) pictures of me and Ianto getting it on.

Sincerely,

Your Captain and Keeper of Your Souls.

P.S. If you all decide to have a huge group orgy, make sure to clean up.

Really, Gwen should have seen this coming.

I hope you all liked the little omake x3 And yes Ianto, you do have some ‘splaining to do. You’ve been a naughy boy… *leers* Okey, onto something actually relevent.

SG-chan needs you guys’ help on deciding something. See, she has two Hetalia plunnies right now but she doesn’t know which one she should work on/post first. The first is titled Spellbound and it’s a supernatural AU where the main pairing is ItaGer. Yes, you read right. The summary is in my profile if you wanna read it. The second is titled Love in G Major and it is a USUK Nyotalia high school AU with onesided RusAme thrown in. I’ll have the summary for that thrown up in a couple minutes. So which do you guys think SG-chan should work on first? Make sure to leave your opinion with a review! ^^

Also, I’ve uploaded a gijinka that I made of Flying Mint Bunny x3 I think she’s rather cute, so if you like you can go check it out ^^ http : / / stargatenerd . deviantart . com / art / Flying – Mint – Bunny – Gijinka – 283152315 (just remove spaces)

Welp, here’s SG-chan signing off, and hoping you all had a good Groundhog’s Day and will have a good weekend =^_^=

You may ask, what on earth did you write a research paper about on Hetalia? And furthermore, how in the seven hells did your teacher accept it?

Okay, one, the first rough draft of SG-chan’s paper is due tomorrow, which means Mr. Kraning, my wonderful Brit Lit teacher (seriously, he’s a really great teacher), hasn’t read it yet. Second, this topic is something very near and dear to SG-chan’s heart, and many other fangirls/boys hearts as well. Yes, that’s right.

SG-chan is writing a research paper on FrUK vs. USUK.

Feel free to laugh uproariously now and/or lob tomatoes/bricks/whatever at me. I will be posting updates on this as soon as I get them from my teacher.

Here’s hoping he doesn’t make me pick a different topic! ^^

Tomorrow’s opening night for Tales from the Twilight Quadrant! ^^ That’s the play I’m in, in case any of you were confused. We’re running Friday and Saturday nights, and then the play I’m in, The Veldt, is the competition play, so I get to go to Eagan next Wednesday and perform one extra time for subsections – hopefully we’ll go to finals; SG-chan’s keeping her fingers crossed. So if you’re in the Minnesotan neighborhood, feel free to drop on by! x3

Anywho, like I said last chapter, I believe y’all are going to love this chapter. Warning, almost sexytimes between Iggy and Alfie, so if you don’t like that, click the back space or hit the red ‘x’ up in the right corner of your browser. SG-chan shan’t tolerate flames, especially cause this is her first published Hetalia (sort of) smut! *nods defiantly* Seriously though, I hope you guys like this chapter; SG-chan’s kinda nervous ^^;

And onto our anon review replies:

anonymous: Th-that mental image of Iggy singing… I believe you have just given me a nosebleed madame -/./- And aren’t the UK sibs all just epic? x3 Thanks for reviewing ^^

foreverhalfa: Glad you liked the chapter; thanks for reviewing! ^^

ATC: Yeah, it makes sense for the readers, just not for SG-chan, who wondered how the hell Scotland hijacked nearly an entire chapter when she wasn’t even going to put him in there in the first place… xD;; Yes, I made someone headdesk! *victory pose* Floosex; it’s just like phonesex, only potentially more dangerous (Kiku rejected the idea btw, and it put Heracles in a foul mood, which you’ll see next chappie x3) You can’t blame Iggy for not realizing it; he’s too busy being traumatized by France being naked xD Plus, it also kind of makes him flashback to when he first encountered codpieces too, so there’s another layer of trauma… Iggy’s so fun to make fun of, isn’t he? Such a hypocritical hottie x3 Yup, you caught it! That’s kinda what I was getting at in chappie 4 when Artie’s musing on Minerva’s behavior towards him; I guess I was too cryptic about it *headdesks* HarryLuna is my favorite het pairing for the series; Drarry is my fav slash one x3 And as I’ve already got Drarry (or hints of it) in my other HP stories, and cause Luna’s just so fucking awesome, I’m shipping her and Harry for this story ^^ To what end shall be seen later on… Like I said, the Naruto reference was VERY small x3;; Yes, us normal people need to back off lest we get flayed in place of the foul-faced frog, hmm? ;3 Glad you like Draco and Blaise’s bromance ^^ And yes, Romano x3 I can’t wait to write him in here, it’s going to be so amusing. Did you know Blaise has a tsundere-meter? It’s quite hilarious XDXDXD I’m glad you’re still sticking with the story; the next couple chapters have already been written and will feature BAMF!England, as well as Torchwood cameos ^^ Janto forever W00t w00t! I know, being on CodeSteve is terrible, especially for me because if I so much as mention it, my HetaOni obsessed sister will break out into theatrical sobs -_-;; Thanks for reviewing! ^^

Pochi: Thank you for correcting me – well, you and about three or four other people xD; That’s the last time I depend on my mother for Italian words (she says she took Italian alongside Latin back in school so I thought she’d know what she was talking about *headdesks*). Ah, the Darth Vader was a Muggleborn – I probably should have put that in there, but you can’t really see people’s faces behind the masks ^^; I’m just glad you’re reading and finding the story enjoyable; that’s seriously where I get the most joy in writing, is knowing that people like my stories ^_^

The obligatory language key is not obligatory this chappie – and yes, I know that doesn’t make sense.

“Bye! Happy Halloween!” Alfred waved to the little Spiderman he’d just given a handful of Butterfingers to. “Heh heh,” the blond chuckled to himself. “I wonder if I’ll get any lame ghosts this year; maybe Artie’ll try to scare me!”

Despite his brave front, Alfred’s attitude was just that – in their current competition of scaring one another at Halloween, he had only one victory – and that was with Japan helping him. But honestly, it wasn’t as if it was his fault he scared easily and England knew all his weak spots – the man had raised him after all. He shook his head, determined not to think of such maudlin – and possibly dangerous – things.

America yawned. Man, his boss didn’t give him any time off – he’d been up nearly all night working, plus, after he’d actually finished his paperwork he had to finish the last level of the latest horror game Kiku sent him, so he’d only gotten a couple hours of sleep. It wasn’t that he never did his work you see; he just commonly got distracted is all. Any time he tried to explain that to Arthur when the older man was scolding him would only result in memories that shouldn’t be reminisced though, so he mainly kept quiet.

He yawned again. Maybe he could get Tony to hand candy out for him for a while, just so he could take a short nap so he’d be well-rested for later – Halloween was one of the most important American holidays after all!

“Hey Tony!” Alfred called as he set the candy bowl on the table.

The short alien stuck his head out of the kitchen – probably cannibalizing some of his appliances for parts – that was one of the reasons he was always so late, not that anyone really cared to listen to him – do you know how hard it is to find a carburetor on such short notice? “Buubu?”

“Could you hand out candy for a bit? I’m gonna take a little nap.”

“Fucking,” the alien agreed.

“Thanks Tony!” Alfred grinned. “You’re the best!” He curled up on the couch and promptly proceeded to drool all over the cushions as he fell asleep.

After a moment, Tony came out and, seeing Alfred was asleep, uttered a single, “Fucking bitch,” and dumped the candy into his own bag. The alien then went back to his room. Hey, if America was going to lay that much candy out, unguarded, he was just asking for it! Besides, he deserved it for all the times that fucking Limey came over, stinking the place up with his fae and mystical mumbo-jumboness. Fucking idiot…

“Fucking idiot,” England muttered as he finally made his way back to his room. “I’m doing him a favor, teaching kids real history, and what does he do? Tortures me with the fucking Hardy boys. Bunch of trash; Holmes is so much better, and not as easy to solve either!” This time he was, in fact, talking to himself, as he’d chased Flying Mint Bunny away (she’d been bothering him a lot tonight) and Brigid, Maeve and Keira were somewhere else, most likely off celebrating with their own kind that made the Forbidden Forest their home.

Arthur sighed, this time wearily. What he wouldn’t give to celebrate the passing of the year in proper fashion. Ah well. The past is the past, Arthur thought to himself as he entered his room. And not that I don’t like wearing this outfit (on the contrary, he liked leather quite a lot) but I’m not going to sleep in it. He shimmied out of his pants (hard to do as they stuck quite a bit) and donned a pair of comfortable pajama bottoms with rabbits decorating them (he didn’t get why Japan had been snickering so when the Englishman had received them).

He’d just shucked his top when he suddenly was quite aware of a distraction, a disturbance in a one meter radius of his-

England didn’t have time to react when a giant mallet slammed on the top of his head and he toppled over onto his bed, unconscious. If he’d still been conscious, he probably would’ve been pretty pissed at the little sign that hung from the swinging mallet that read:

Happy Samhain you little motherfucker.

Love, Neve.

The thing about dreams is that they’re mainly a manifestation of your subconscious. So when America opened his eyes shortly after conking out for his nap and was greeted by the sight of Arthur – without a shirt and with several piercings that he never should have found hot but he did and damn, was he sad when the ’70s craze died down and the suits came back – he wasn’t too surprised. That Arthur was looking pretty pissed for some reason was also (sadly) normal.

“‘sup British dude, what’s hanging?” Dammit, Al, you had to come up with something as lame as that? Well, apparently said ‘British dude’ also agreed with Alfred’s sub-subconscious as Arthur scowled even harder.

“Get up you git,” he reprimanded, holding out a hand for America to grasp because he was – for some reason – lying on the ground.

“Thanks Artie,” Alfred grinned.

He ducked the expected head smack as Arthur scolded, “Don’t shorten my name like that you imbecile.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Alfred waved a hand dismissively as Arthur seethed. “So what’s that over there?” He pointed towards the dull red glow coming from a circle of bonfires off aways.

“Hmm?” Arthur’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. “Curious.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Alfred asked.

“Well, not that you’d probably know what any of this entails, but on Samhain – that’s Halloween to you-” England ignored the eye roll he was given, “-one of the ways the passing of the old year is celebrated is by burning bonfires through the night.”

“Uh, dude, New Year’s is in January; January 1st.” America spoke as if communicating with a slow child.

“The Celtic New Year is tonight,” Arthur scowled. “For a country who welcomes such a myriad of religions, you certainly don’t seem to know anything about them.”

“Well, you know, Puritans, a-and then the ’60s loosened me up, and well, you’re old and…” By this time America was blushing and had a sullen look on his face. “It’s not my fault!”

“I didn’t say it was,” England chuckled as he reached up to ruffle America’s hair.

The latter flushed harder because this afforded him with quite a good view of England’s chest, and dammit, he should not be so hot while still being so scrawny! “So do you guys just chuck stuff into the fire and chant or what?”

Alfred ducked out from Arthur’s hand, missing the split second expression of hurt on his face before he answered, “No, nothing that stereotypical. Where on earth did you get that from, one of your trashy Hollywood films?”

Even in my dreams, he’s so insensitive, both men thought as they turned away from one another.

“What’s that smell?” Alfred wondered as he tried to change the subject. “It’s kinda familiar…”

“It’s sage and mullein,” Arthur explained quietly. “I used them to supplement other medicines when you were sick, remember?”

“Oh yeah,” the taller blond mumbled.

There was an uncomfortable silence as the bittersweet history they shared was remembered in a place where no one could bother them and attention couldn’t be drawn away from the subject.

“England…” Alfred started, his hand hovering above Arthur’s shoulder.

The shorter flinched slightly and began to walk towards the fires. “The night is passing; tradition must be kept.”

“What?” America stumbled slightly as Arthur walked away. “England, what are you talking about?”

Arthur turned and took Alfred’s left hand in his, pink lightly dusting his cheeks. “I-it’s customary,” England stammered, not meeting America’s eyes. “T-to dance around the fires as we welcome the New Year; for luck.”

“O-oh.” America’s eyes widened before he clasped his other hand just around England’s waist, his fingers splayed slightly across heated skin.

“I-idiot!” Arthur yanked the hand off his waist. “Not ballroom dancing; don’t you remember any of your old traditions?”

“Y-ya mean powwows and stuff?” Alfred found himself blushing at the admonishment.

“Please don’t mangle the Queen’s English like that; didn’t anything I teach you ever stick?”

“Some stuff,” the blue-eyed blond muttered, catching both of Arthur’s hands and holding them so that he could rub a thumb over the inside of his wrists.

“Wh-what are you doing?” the Englishman’s voice was strangely hushed as the two men stared down at England’s hands in America’s, the former’s wrists being caressed by the latter.

“Holding you,” Alfred stated. He lifted his gaze to meet his former brother’s, taking one of his hands up to brush a kiss across the back of his hand.

Arthur’s breath hitched as he felt a spark where America’s lips had touched his skin. Everything had a certain clarity to it that was only to be found in dreams, where it was like an ocean was roaring in his ears one minute, and the next he was up higher than the highest mountain while the wind whistled past in a tempest.

“Don’t stop me.”

The – warning? plea? command? – was uttered so low that Arthur almost missed it as Alfred let go of one hand in favor of tracing over the topmost piercing in his right ear.

“I loved how you dressed back in the ’60s and ’70s. You had these piercings-” A tap to the cartilage of his lobe, “-and I wanted nothing more than to just run my tongue over them.” America leaned in and did precisely that, sending a shiver down Arthur’s spin that, with his lack o a shirt, couldn’t be mistaken for anything else. “You had a tongue piercing back then,” Alfred breathed in Arthur’s ear. “During meetings I’d get so distracted, just imagining how it would feel, having you suck my cock with it in.”

Arthur bit down a whimper at the mental image (would the American be heavy and a bit too big, or just enough to fit if he suppressed his gag reflex?) and instead whispered back, “What exactly makes you think I’d let you? Who’s to say I wouldn’t just push you down and have my way with you?” He punctuated this with a sharp nip to Alfred’s ear.

“Fuck,” the American inhaled sharply. “I would have absolutely no objections to that Captain.”

The title made the blood pound in England’s ears, and his hands fisted in Alfred’s hair and mashed their mouths together. He immediately thrust his tongue past Alfred’s lips, not bothering to wait for any return of affections as he just proceeded to take.

Alfred moaned and didn’t really try to do anything, just letting Arthur do what he wanted. His hands left their places at England’s ear and hand to travel along his sides. England moaned, his skin turning hypersensitive as hands callused from years of work as everything from a mercenary to a farm hand stroked his exposed skin. In a form of retaliation Arthur’s hands tightened in America’s hair, tugging not quite painfully, but enough to be noticed. As his hands roamed, he grasped one particular unruly strand, and America jumped as a loud moan escaped him.

“What on earth was that?” England asked as he drew back, admiring in the back of his mind how beautifully his former brother looked.

“S-sorry,” Alfred apnted, his fists balled at England’s sides. “N-Nantucket’s… kinda s-sensitive.”

“Oh is it now?” Arthur smirked and Alfred’s eyes widened as he realized what he’d just said.

“H-Hey, don’t go ab- hnnngh!” Alfred whined whrilly as Arthur took hold of Nantucket and tugged at it.

“Now now poppet, you’re in good hands,” Arthur crooned, his green eyes lustful as he watched his former charge, the young man he’d raised, the world’s remaining superpower, come apart so… deliciously.

“Hnngh… guh, Eng- Arthur!” America gasped, his hands on autopilot as they scrabbled at England’s back.

“That’s it luv, let yourself go,” the elder soothed, though his voice was tremulous as Alfred’s hands ran over his naked skin, sinking into his back and triggering flashes of painful pleasure that only made him want to torment the younger man even more, to make him drop that idiotic exterior and be exposed, just for England, always, only for England.

“Love you,” Alfred moaned, his sky blue eyes turned dark with desire. “Love you, love you, always loved you, always always…”

“Me too America, me too,” Arthur replied emphatically, pulling Alfred into a messy kiss as he continued to stroke Nantucket. “Let go luv, give yourself over,” he cajoled. “I’ve got you Alfred, I’ve got you.”

Alfred let out a sob as England stroked Nantucket once more-

America woke, heaving and gasping as sweat rolled down his face. He felt like he was burning all over, and you didn’t have to be a genius at reading the atmosphere to figure out why. He adjusted a cushion over his vital regions as he realized Tony was playing a video game on the TV.

The alien turned to him as he heard him shuffling about. Tony cocked his head and questioned: “Fucking Limey?”

Alfred groaned. “I wish Tony,” he muttered. “I fucking wish.”

“…gland. England!”

Said nation opened his eyes slowly, and he was more than a little disappointed to find that, no, his dream had not been reality, and the one yelling him awake was small and green and-

“Minty?”

“You’re awake!” the small flying creature trilled happily. “I was worried – Miss Ireland was in here earlier but you wouldn’t listen and-”

“Yes, yes, and I’m sorry for that,” England apologized. “I was rather busy with Will you see.”

“I know.” Flying Mint Bunny looked at him sideways. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine Minty,” Arthur reassured her with a wane smile. “I’m fine.”

“So, how long do you suppose it’ll take for them to take the hint?”

Up in heaven, or here in limbo, or wherever Ancient Nations went when they ‘died’, Mother Britannia and Native America were growing (quite reasonably) frustrated with their children. Hence why they’d drawn England and America into a shared dreamscape.

“Well, if the next time they meet there’s something or someone there to exacerbate their sexual tension…” Britannia muttered to herself.

“Are you frustrated my dear?”

Britannia quickly shoved a fist in Gaul’s face. “Shush, Native America and I are plotting.”

“Ooh, plotting?” Gaul recovered from the blow she’d received, blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “Do let me assist you dear, I could be so much help!”

Britannia and Native America exchanged glances before they turned back to Gaul. “Fine. Here’s what we’ve done so far…”

So, did everyone like it? ;3 Mother Britannia is inspired by ArkhamInsanity on DA, who draws the best Hetalia spanking pics ever, and some other really good art too if that sort of thing ain’t your cup of tea.

And yes, SG-chan did just write a chapter that is dedicated pretty much entirely to a dream sequence, and no, it was not just an excuse to practice smut (well, kinda, but not entirely). There is a method to SG-chan’s madness some of the time – this is one of those times.

My laptop will be back from the shop in a week or so, they just got the parts to fix it in, so I should be able to post the audio files of this story by the end of January ^^

I hope you all liked this chappie (I know I certainly enjoyed writing it ;3) and don’t forget to review! ^^

Anon review replies:

ATC: Yes, Pirate!Iggy is, like, the ultimate seme of all time, closely followed by Punk!Iggy, who is quite possibly sexier than the pirate sometimes. And yes, Greece’s army of cats *snickers* It’s the Greek Army! Ack! xD Yeah, I love writing England doing magic, cause that’s where most magic/mythology is from, what with Merlin and everything. As for McGonagall not commenting, her brain’s just a bit broke at the moment, plus not only does she have a temper (being Head of Gryffindor) but she had to deal with the Weasley twins, who I imagine were probably not only troublemakers but perverts as well (maybe not as perverted as France, but then again, who is?). Glad you liked the Hetalia bits; again, I tried to balance things out between the two fandoms in this chapter ^^; Ugh, it’s wet here too now; dreadfully annoying not to mention cold x(

anonymous: I know, Punk!Iggy is totally hot! *drools* I believe I’m either becoming or have become an Anglophile because of our dear Arthur x3 And of course Arthur loves Florida ;3

Language key (with a new totally unexpected language too 8D!):

Ancient English (Iggy’s spells, etc.): “{insert text}”

French: “insert text“

Greek: “\insert text\”

Parseltongue: “*insert text*”

Gaelic: “^insert text^”

“He attacked him with a what?” Blaise cackled. “Oh man, I wish I’d been there! Sounds like Kirkland’s a real riot once you get past the stuffiness.”

“Speaking of, why aren’t you in the class?” Draco wondered as he slicked his hair back once again. “You keep going on about how your mother keeps an iron grip on you in regards to your studies, so why aren’t you in the NEWT history class?”

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you” Blaise wondered. “She doesn’t like the History curriculum though, and both her and Signore Vargas agree that it’s too outdated and doesn’t cover enough, so I have a home tutor for that.”

“Ugh, I wish you were in our class,” Draco grumbled as he pointed his wand towards his teeth. A short spell later and his incisors were much sharper. “There’s only one Gryffindor – Granger of course, but the other half of the class is Ravenclaws, with a couple of Hufflepufffs. It’s so dreadfully boring – apart from Kirkland’s occasional lapses of sanity.” The blond turned away from the mirror. “How do I look?” he asked, flinging his cape back as he flashed his fangs.

Blaise gave him a thumbs up.

“He dented the floor?” Harry’s eyes bugged out behind his glasses. Behind him Ron’s expression mirrored his own.

“He’s got some muscle on those scrawny limbs after all,” the redhead shook his head. “Mione, could you help me wrap these bandages?”

“Honestly Ron,” Hermione huffed as she took the bandages for his mummy costume and began winding one around his bicep. “Have you been working out?” she wondered as she squeezed his arm slightly.

“Hmm? Oh yeah, I owled Oliver for tips on being Keeper so he sent me a bunch of stuff,” Ron explained.

“If only you took your studies as seriously,” the brunette sighed as she tied the bandage off near his wrist.

“Here, I’ll take over,” Harry offered, seeing how close his friends were getting. While he was all for ending their UST, he wanted them to wait until after hols so he could win his and Ginny’s bet – he didn’t want to have to become her personal servant or have to perform some other kind of evil task.

“What are you Harry?” Ron asked. “A ghost?”

“Not just any ghost,” Harry shook his head from under the sheet he wore. “I got a rock,” he quoted.

“It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown!” the girl exclaimed. “That’s very original of you Harry. Well, the idea, not so much the costume.”

“It was actually Luna’s idea,” Harry admitted. “She’s going to be Lucy, a choul or a witch, whichever she was.”

“Are you two going together?” Ron asked, slightly incredulous.

“What? No, she just came up with the costume idea,” Harry protested.

“Whatever you say,” Hermione chuckled. She tossed her hair back. “I like being Medusa myself.”

“Tch, bunch of pansies,” England grumbled to himself as he cleaned his left ear with a finger. “I didn’t even break any bones.”

“Though you tried your best,” France muttered, glaring at England across from Greece, who stood between the two. “I do believe I have a couple of grey hairs now.”

“You’ve never greyed through everything you’ve been through, why would you start now?” the Englishman scoffed.

“Madame Guillotine was never forgiving in the past, why would she be now?” Francis mumbled. “Such beauty, lost forever.”

“You two are so gloomy,” Heracles groaned. “I’m going to go see if I can get ahold of Kiku; maybe I can convince him to have Floosex.” The Grecian hastily retreated from the two’s presence.

“My God,” Arthur breathed. “I believe…”

“…he is the more perverted of us,” Francis nodded in agreement. “I mean, Floo?” He shuddered slightly. “That is burns in uncomfortable places just waiting to happen. Though I too should be taking my leave.”

“So soon?” Arthur perked up.

“I know you are heartbroken by my departure, but stay strong mon cher!”Francis gripped Arthur by the shoulders. “Every day that passes by without the sight of your emerald eyes drives me only further into melancholy!”

“N-now see here Francis,” England stuttered, a fine blush dusting his cheeks. Mortal enemy or no, having compliments like that heaped on him was not something easily brushed off.

“I shall wait for you, my bed empty and my window open with the moonlight to be our only companion.” Francis’s voice was nothing more than a whisper now as he pulled the other slowly, but surely, closer to him. “And we shall spend the night making passionate love upon a fine bed of roses-”

“Don’t you dare insult my national flower in such a way!”

England’s fist connected with France’s face, followed by a powerful kick to the abdomen that sent the Frenchman flying.

“I think this would be my cue to leave,” Francis gasped, and a blue glow burst shortly from him as he gathered his magic as quickly as he could to nation-step out of sight, no doubt back in his main home in his own country.

“Next meeting,” England growled, an eerie green aura emanating around him. “I’m going to fucking flay that foul-faced frog!” And with that alliteration that would have made Shakespeare proud, England stomped off to his quarters, now more intent than ever to just let himself go tonight.

The Hogwarts Halloween Ball was now in full swing and though many people had decided not to wear a costume, those who did ranged from the simple (ghosts like Harry (though none were actually Charlie Brown related)) to the elaborate (a Hufflepuff third-year who was dressed as Darth Vader with several of his housemates as ‘Stormtroopers’).

Arthur chuckled as he watched ‘Darth Vader’ sweep by with his entourage in tow. “That idiot would probably approve of that.”

“Who would approve of what li’l Arty?”

The familiar brogue made Arthur whirl around in surprise. “Will!” he exclaimed at seeing his eldest brother.

“Hey there ^bràthair^,” the redhead chuckled, engulfing Arthur in a bear hug. “Like your outfit, but don’tcha ye think ye’re showing a bit too much skin round the young’uns?”

“Oh come off it; you’ve worn far worse, and while with the frog no less,” Arthur scoffed, crossing his arms.

“Ah, but Frenchie makes it enjoyable,” Will leered.

“Speaking of, what’s this I’m hearing about Kama Sutra illustrations in the margins of some of our torture books?”

“Oh, that one.” Will giggled pervertedly as a little drool dripped from his mouth. “Me and Frenchie had a lot of fun with that one…”

“Ugh, how you can willingly spend time with him without strangling him and even more, finding his company enjoyable… it boggles the mind.” Arthur shook his head.

“Oh? Like you an’ Alfie haven’t had your fair share of lover’s spats,” Will teased, elbowing the younger.

“I-I-I’m not interested in him like that!” Arthur spluttered, his face bright red.

“Careful now Arty, or people’ll think ye tolerate ‘im.”

“Why you fucking-! I’ll throttle-”

“Ahem!”

The brothers turned to see the forbidding figure of Minerva McGonagall. Admittedly, the fact she was dressed like a five-year-old ballerina took away from some of the ferocity she was projecting, but not much. “And just what are you trying to do to Mr. Wallace, Kirkland?”

Arthur wasn’t sure whether the disdain in her voice was more from what she’d caught him attempting to do, or from the fact he had five piercings in his ears alone, which, when combined with his skin-tight leather pants and Sex Pistols sleeveless shirt, made him the poster boy image for ‘rebel’. The shock of green in his hair probably didn’t help either.

“Oh, so you’re ‘Mr. Wallace’ now?”Arthur narrowed his eyes at Will’s smirk. “And just so you know, I was straightening his tie.” The blond moved his hands so they were at the base of his throat.

“I’m not wearin’ a tie ^beagan bràthair^,” Scotland chuckled nastily.

“I could make you one with a lovely noose design,” Arthur offered cheerily. “Go well with the blood red necklace I gave you.” He stroked a finger along the middle of the length of Scotland’s throat, where his axe had met so long ago…

“Nah, Frenchie gave me a brooch that’s much prettier, right here.” His smirk was still strong as he circled a spot just below his left clavicle.

England frowned and shoved his hands into his back pockets. “Pervert,” he accused.

“Like you’re any less of one,” Will cackled, slinging an arm around Arthur’s neck.

McGonagall frowned even harder. “Mr. Wallace?” she asked. “How do you know Professor Kirkland?”

“He’s my l’il brother,” Scotland cooed, pulling him closer and into a headlock.

“Get off of me!” England protested, pushing at Scotland’s arm. “And only half!”

“Aww, ^beagan bràthair^, you’re so mean! At least I don’t hate you like our dear sister, hmm?”

“She hates you too you know,” England grumbled as he wedged an arm between his neck and Will’s arm.

“Minerva, why are you standing around?” Flitwick wasn’t dressed in a costume, but seemed to be getting into the swing of the party nonetheless. “Stop picking on Arthur!”

“Oh no, she’s free te pick on him as much as she likes,” Will interjected. “Otherwise he starts to get a head the size of the British Empire, and we all know how that one ends.”

“With you in traction if you don’t shut up!” Arthur retorted.

Minerva sighed heavily as she resigned herself to even more of the madness the History professor seemed to bring with him. “Filius, this is William Wallace; his family has been financial supporters of the school for generations now.”

“Back in the beginning if I recall correctly,” Scotland mused as he stroked an imaginary beard. “Li’l Arty here’s part o’ that too.”

“Not of my own free will, I assure you,” the blond muttered. “If I could choose my own family-”

“C’mon, lighten up!” Scotland slapped him on the back while cackling. “It’s Samhain ye little pagan, ye should be celebratin’!”

“Oh shut it!” England snapped. “Why the hell d’ye think I’m wearing this outfit in the first place?”

“A subconscious hope that Alfie’ll show up and, overcome by your immense sexiness, end up jumpin’ ya?” Scotland’s laughter rang out as he dodged his brother’s attempts to strangle him again.

“Uncle Will!” Peter had showed up and now had jumped on Scotland’s back, his arms and legs wrapped around his torso. “I thought you were too lazy to come!”

“Get offa me ye little octopus, and I’ll tell ya.”Peter detached himself and landed on the floor before looking up at his, technically, older brother figure. “C’mon, ye didn’t think I could let this time a year go by without bothering our stuffy brother, now could I?” Scotland fixed a stern look on the micronation. “I hope ye’ve been making life hell for him.”

“Mr. Wallace!”

Minerva’s indignant cry was accompanied by Arthur’s reassurance of: “Oh, he’s been making it hell for me all right. Not now Minty!”

“Are ye talking to yer imaginary friends again?” Scotland scoffed.

“Just because you’re too thick to see faeries doesn’t mean they don’t exist!” England bristled in defense of his small friends.

“Sure,” Will drawled with a wink to Peter. “An’ just who are ye supposed to be, hmm?”

“I’m a ghost pirate!” Peter exclaimed with a grin. “I owled Papa for ideas on a costume and he sent me this!” The boy struck a pose with his (hopefully fake) cutlass as Will snickered and Arthur sighed wearily.

“Please tell me the torture will be over soon,” the Englishman muttered.

“Just as soon as ye catch me up with nick!” A large hand clapped over Arthur’s shoulder. “I haven’t talked with him in a while, plus I brought some of those mystery books he likes.” Arthur gave another groan as he was dragged away to be tortured by the ghost of the Scotsman’s best friend.

“Stay with the party Minerva,” Filius chided with a hand laid on the woman’s arm. “You don’t need to be watching him every second; though I’ll admit, that would be amusing to watch.” He smiled at her glare. “Just enjoy yourself,” the small man reminded before dragging her off onto the dance floor.

Peter shrugged as he found himself alone. “The Great Sea-kun will now go indulge himself in the buffet table!” he announced to himself before going off to do just that.

He stopped when he ran into someone. “Sorry,” Peter apologized as he manuveured around the person clad in a sheet with eye holes.

“No problem,” the person under the sheet reassured him. “It’s kind of my fault anyway; I probably should have made my eye holes bigger.”

“It’s all right Harry; we didn’t have very good scissors anyway,” the girl next to the ghost assured, her tone soothing though her face couldn’t be seen as she was wearing a ghoul mask.

“So are you two together?” Peter asked curiously, as any dirt on Harry Potter of all people was sure to be interesting.

“Me and Luna?” The surprise in the boy’s voice was obvious. “No, we’re just friends. She came up with our costume ideas.”

“Well well, if it isn’t Scarhead,” a familiar voice drawled. “Too afraid to show your face Potter?”

“Bugger off Malfoy,” Harry snarled. “It’s a party; can’t you be civil for just one night out of the year?”

“Hey, you’re Kirkland’s little brother, right?” Blaise had abandoned his friend in favor of questioning Peter. “What’s he like under all that stuffiness? I hear he’s quite an interesting character if the stories about him going after that – was he French Dray?” Blaise asked, effectively interrupting Harry and Draco’s (not so) witty banter.

“He was French Blaise, now shut up, I’m trying to quarrel with Potter,” the blond scowled.

“Oh, so that’s why I thought I heard Francis screaming earlier,” Peter mused. “I was wondering about that.”

“You would be hanging out with Potter, wouldn’t you?” Draco sniffed disdainfully in Luna’s direction.

The girl tilted her head slightly. “Of course I would; I support all those who prove to be my friends,” she informed him in a lightly stern tone.

“Come on Blaise,” the Malfoy heir ordered after a tense moment.

“Aww, Drakey-poo, I wanted to converse with the teacher’s spawn first!” Blaise pouted.

“Hey, I’m totally much better than That Jerk!” Peter protested as he scowled fiercely at Blaise. “And no one calls me a spawn but Uncle Matthias, and then only if Uncle Lukas doesn’t catch him and ground him to the couch!”

“Er, okaaay,” Blaise conceded after a moment. “Whatever you say kid.”

“Blaise.”

“Dios, don’t get your panties in a twist Dray!”

“I don’t wear such things!”

“It’s an expression. Dios mio…” The two Slytherins faded into the crowd.

“Well, I have to go plan another attack on That Jerk. Bye Harry, bye Harry’s not-girlfriend!” Peter waved before skipping away.

“Geez, first years,” Harry shook his head. “Right Luna?”

“Hmm, y-yes,” the girl stuttered slightly, glad she was wearing a mask since then Harry couldn’t see her blush.

Random language tics:

bràthair: Gaelic for brother (used Google translate for this, so feel free to correct me)

beagan bràthair: Little brother (again, used G.T. for this ^^;)

Dios: Italian for ‘God’

Dios mio: ‘My God’ (Italian again)

Okay, if anyone’s wondering “When the hell did Scotland get there?”, believe me, you’re not the only one. What happened was literally this:

SG-chan: *writing this chapter during math class when teacher’s going over problems other kids had issues with* Hmm, I think I’ll reread to see if I made any glaring mistakes. *rereads, suddenly stops* When the hell did Scotland get there?

So yeah, that’s pretty much what happened ^^; Just a note, the image SG-chan has in her head of Scotland is the most seen fanon pics of him on Pixiv. He looks so hot… And if you don’t get what the whole ‘William Wallace’ thing is, well then you need to go read your Scottish history. It’s a good thing my grandmother (the British one) doesn’t read my fics, cause despite being distantly descended from him, she still absolutely hates the Scottish -_-;; And the Irish too, which is funny cause my mom’s Irish xD

Also, SG-chan promised she’d tell you guys the Naruto reference a couple chapters ago, but then she forgot, but reminders that she’s given herself (writing on her hand) have paid off and now she is remembering. The reference is really pretty small, but if you didn’t already know, England and Sasuke have the same voice actor in Japanese (but he sounds so much hotter as Iggy ;3). Now, Sasuke is constantly referring to his older brother Itachi as ‘That Man’. Thus, I have Peter constantly referring to Arthur as ‘That Jerk’. Like I said earlier, nobody got it, and it’s really quite small, but it’s the little things that count, ya know? x3

Anywho, I hope everyone’s had a good week – don’t forget to be careful when going outside (fucking ice; I’ve slipped twice in the past three days) and remember to keep your stick on the ice (Red Green reference FTW! XDXDXD) and to give SG-chan reviews ^^

I’m not sure if anyone actually checks my site, so I’m going to post this message as a separate ‘chapter’ on FF.net too.

Hope everyone’s having a better time than SG-chan ^^;