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Last of The Fae Chapter 130: Engagement Finale
🕑 Added 2025-03-09 01:30:54 +0000 UTCRon moaned in pure bliss as he shoved another forkful of basilisk steak—perfectly seared and dripping with chimichurri—into his mouth. The moment it hit his tongue, the meat practically melted apart, tender beyond belief, bursting with rich, savory flavors.
A tear nearly escaped his eye.
"I can die a happy man now."
"Ron, I know the food is good, but could you please at least chew with your mouth closed?" Hermione pleaded, practically begging as she tried to enjoy her own meal without the added spectacle.
"It’s no use, Hermione. We’ve lost him," Harry said dejectedly, watching as Ron practically inhaled his steak. "Honestly, I’m jealous—I wish my stomach was that big."
Hermione sighed, though it was more fond exasperation than true annoyance. The food was incredible.
She glanced around the banquet hall for what had to be the thousandth time, taking in its sheer grandeur and wonder.
'It’s all amazing…'
"Something on your mind, Hermione?"
She blinked, turning toward Harry, who had paused mid-bite to look at her.
Hermione hesitated, then sighed. "Nothing serious, just something I’ve been thinking about."
"Wah’s wrhug?!" Ron asked far too loudly, his mouth still full of food.
Hermione shot him a sharp glare, confident that he was doing it on purpose, but decided to ignore it for now.
"Did any of you wonder why Thane invited us here?" she asked, lowering her voice slightly. "We’re certainly not as important as the rest of his guests."
Harry tapped his fork against his plate, then shrugged. "I don’t know."
"That doesn’t bother you?" Hermione pressed. "Even at the best of times, we’ve never really been friends. Last year, you were practically ready to fight Thane!"
Harry scratched the back of his head, his expression pensive. "Yeah, but whenever I think about our history with Thane, I can’t help but wonder… what exactly did he do?"
Hermione frowned. "What do you mean, 'what exactly did he do'? He stole your cloak! And what about your sister?"
Harry tilted his head, his expression thoughtful.
"Yeah, but it wasn’t really mine, was it?" he admitted before his brows furrowed slightly. "And my relationship with my sister is my own fault. Ultimately, you have to admit—Thane’s saved us more times than he’s ever hurt us."
"Rghlly?" Ron mumbled, somehow still chewing.
"Yeah. Think about it," Harry leaned forward slightly. "He fought off the troll at the Halloween feast. He stopped Voldemort from stealing the Philosopher’s Stone. He healed you, Hermione, after you got all… furry."
Hermione’s cheeks flushed slightly at the memory.
"And then he fought Voldemort again. And a Basilisk. To save Ron’s sister."
A quiet pause settled over the table as Hermione processed Harry’s words.
"Yeah, but in all of those instances, he had his own incentive to help us," she pointed out.
"Which is why he invited us here," Harry exclaimed, as if piecing it together in real-time. "To show us that there isn’t any bad blood. That we aren’t enemies."
Ron swallowed loudly, finally finishing his bite, and grinned.
"I think Harry’s right. Thane’s a pompous, arrogant prick, but he’s got some redeeming qualities…" he gestured toward his half-cleared plate, his grin widening. "And the guy knows how to make a five-course meal."
Hermione opened her mouth to respond when something caught her eye.
Her lips curled into a smirk.
"Well, since Thane is such a wonderful guy, I’m sure you won’t object to him and Ginny sneaking off outside together."
"He what?!"
Ron froze, his fork halfway to his mouth. He whipped around toward the nearest side door, his eyes blazing with sudden protective brotherly fury.
"Ginevra, it’s good to see you again—and under much better circumstances," Thane greeted as he and Ginny stepped into one of his private gardens.
This one was modeled after a mangrove forest.
Small pockets of brackish water dotted the garden, occupied by medium-sized trees standing on spindly roots, each one specially adapted to tolerate saltwater. Beneath the dense network of roots, tiny aquatic creatures swam about, their instincts guiding them to seek shelter within the labyrinthine structures.
Ginny clasped her hands together, nervously fidgeting before speaking.
"Please, call me Ginny," she insisted, glancing at him uncertainly. "I insist."
Thane offered a polite smile.
"Well then, Ginny, I hope you’ve been enjoying yourself tonight."
"Yes, of course! Everything has been… well, magical," Ginny giggled, then quickly grew serious. "But I’ve been waiting to talk to you all night."
Thane’s brows knitted together slightly.
"What’s wrong? Have there been complications with your recovery?"
"N-no," Ginny hesitated, looking away. "At least… I don’t think so. But ever since you healed me, I’ve felt… strange."
Thane’s frown deepened.
"Strange how?"
Ginny swallowed, shifting uncomfortably.
"I-I don’t know if this makes sense, but whenever I’m near a fire… I hear voices."
Her voice had dropped to a whisper, as if afraid he might call her insane.
Thane remained silent, processing her words.
Healing Ginny had been straightforward, once he had learned how to use Basilisk venom as a catalyst to heal the soul.
"And what do these voices sound like?" he asked, curious rather than judgmental—which visibly surprised Ginny.
She took a moment to gather her thoughts.
"W-well, they don’t really talk… it’s more like a feeling," she admitted, blushing. "I get this irresistible urge to touch them."
"Touch the flames?" Thane clarified.
Ginny nodded hesitantly.
"Any difference between magical fire and mundane fire?"
Ginny fidgeted, looking down. "I-I don’t know," she confessed. "S-should I?"
Thane sighed lightly, shaking his head.
"No. Unfortunately, the magic I used has very little precedent," he admitted. "But I’m sure you have nothing to worry about."
Before Ginny could respond—
"Ginny!!"
A furious shout cut through the air.
Thane looked up, his expression mildly amused, as Ron stormed toward them, Harry and Hermione trailing close behind.
Ginny sighed, staring at her rapidly approaching brother with a look of long-suffering exasperation.
"Ugh. Why can he never leave me alone?"
"Ginny!" Ron barked, stopping in front of her, his eyes darting suspiciously toward Thane before snapping back to his sister. "What are you doing out here? Does Mum know you snuck off?"
Ginny scoffed, crossing her arms.
"I’m not a kid, Ron. I can decide where I go without permission. I was just thanking Lord Fae for saving my life!"
Ron’s gaze flickered toward Thane again, a reluctant sigh escaping him.
"Alright… but at least tell someone before you go wandering off," he grumbled.
Ginny rolled her eyes.
"Whatever. Now can you get going?"
"Absolutely not," Ron declared, his stance firm. "Say your thanks, and then we can leave Lord Thane to do whatever lordy stuff he needs to do."
Ginny opened her mouth to protest, but Thane cleared his throat, interrupting smoothly.
"Ginny, go with your brother for now. We can continue our conversation later."
Ron’s suspicious gaze locked onto Thane immediately.
"What conversation!?" he demanded, eyes narrowing in clear accusation.
Thane smiled, the epitome of good-natured amusement.
"Sorry, but doctor-patient confidentiality."
Ron’s eyes narrowed further.
"You’re not a doctor."
"Not yet," Thane countered with a casual shrug.
A brief but intense stare-down followed before Ron finally relented, rolling his shoulders as though conceding a hard-fought battle.
"Fine. You win this one because it's your big night. But next time, you won’t get off so easily." He turned to his sister, motioning her forward. "Come on, Ginny."
Ginny huffed, throwing one last glance over her shoulder before reluctantly following her brother.
Thane watched as the trio of Weasleys and Hermione disappeared back inside, a subtle smirk tugging at his lips.
‘Well, I think that went rather well.’
Now that the interruption was dealt with, Thane turned his attention back to the garden.
The mangrove trees, their spindly roots twisting into the water, beckoned to him. He could already feel the itch creeping in—the urge to tweak, shape, improve. His hands twitched slightly, his mind already calculating potential adjustments to the landscape’s balance.
But before he could indulge, he felt it.
A pulse through his bond with Daphne.
It came in a wave—exhaustion, fatigue, and simmering annoyance.
Thane sighed, running a hand through his hair.
"And it’s time to listen to the peanut gallery again."
With no hesitation, he turned on his heel, making his way back inside, 'At least we can suffer together, just like an old married couple.'
