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It took two hours of solid nonstop arguing with House to allow her to clean up before this...

tea party.

In the end, she was only able to convince House to clean up the entranceway, dining and living rooms.

The kitchen had been decently scrubbed but House wouldn’t do it themself, although Atlas did mention House was capable of triggering several self-cleaning spells.

The Spellsaven had backed up Harlow just enough to not get on House’s bad side.

They had done the work of procuring a few extra teacups and saucers as well, although none of them matched and all but one was chipped.

There was no time now to order a new teacup and she was quite aware that was something she hadn’t packed.

It was possible that there would be more in storage somewhere and Harlow would be lying if she didn’t admit it was tempting to go to the vault and see what was there.

Surely there were some enchanted teacups or mugs in one of the crates.

Likely nothing too dangerous but she had not found anything in her semi-regular trips to the vault.

(Always sure to look down the gargoyle aisle to manually confirm the small Dragonspeak-inscribed box was still sitting where it should be.) If anyone was going to loot those shelves and directly break Atlas’s spirit, it was going to be her.

If Atlas was going to have the one item they couldn’t trust themselves with taken away, it wouldn’t be because she couldn’t protect the vault or because Atlas put their trust in anyone else.

It would be because she herself would snap those bonds. If anyone was going to do it, it would be her, and she’d do it so terribly well.

Rearranging a vase of feathers, bones, and dried-out sprigs (Atlas held a firm “no”

in response to fresh cuttings from the garden. Apparently, their trust was still a work in progress), Harlow cooed to the house, “Are you excited to have some guests, Daggerroot?”

The house didn’t respond.

Odd, since she was growing used to the way House spoke even with gentle movements like the appearance of her own teacup ready at her side although she had left it in the kitchen.

Sometimes House would even open the doors to rooms she was heading to before she got there.

But with this question, not even a curtain moved in response.

Atlas was rearranging pillows, not outright offering as it was a task needing done but because they wandered aimlessly around the home trying to think of what Harlow wanted.

Once they had given that up and asked Harlow what they could do to help directly.

After being asked for something to put in the vase and coming up with...

these things, Atlas left them bunched up.

Which was no surprise, Atlas was a lot of things but artistically creative was not one of them.

“Daggerroot is shy, I’m sure it’s not looking forward to it.”

They held a square pillow with only three tassels directly out in front of them, tilting it various ways as they tried imagining the best placement for it on the settee.

“Oh...”

What to say? Should she compliment their willingness to allow visitors or offer reassurances? Ones she wasn’t so confident of herself, as the presence of Lithon in the house was enough to put her on edge.

Since the night out in town, Harlow had been stressed.

Atlas had drawn her many baths with her favorite snacks and even hauled a phonogram into the large completely tiled bathroom in an effort to help keep her stress down.

What they didn’t do however was cancel tea.

Atlas had asked why it was bothering her so, and apologized for not consulting with her as well since she was also a resident in Daggerroot Manor, but Harlow dismissed it.

Atlas was Spellsaven and she was just an apprentice.

Although their relationship was something beautiful and comforting to her, she still wanted the experience of being an apprentice.

Sometimes that meant putting trust in the other and seeing what happened.

Harlow had asked why the tea party in general, to which Atlas only responded, it was the respectful thing to do and Spellsavens so rarely got to entertain each other as company.

Magdalanous hadn’t been to Daggerroot in years and Atlas admitted to being a bad host.

They ventured out of the house to town often enough but inviting anyone back, shy house or not, was something that they wanted to work on.

Atlas used the garden as an example.

That it wasn’t like that when they first got there.

They just stayed away because they lacked a green thumb, and the fear of plants, of course.

And without visitors and such, the garden grew unruly.

They’d seen Harlow’s care of it, and it was changing Atlas’ outlook.

She had also seen Atlas posting letters back to the academy, answering inquiries and comments from students there.

Something they were notoriously not doing within her tenure.

Atlas scooted forward and bent at the knees, looking very much crab-like, to place the pillow exactly in the middle of the settee.

Harlow would not have chosen that placement but Atlas was incredibly proud as they placed their hands on their hips to survey their work.

She had told Atlas a half truth.

Or more so one truth and not the extra one.

She was stressed because of Magdalanous.

Someone who had been a silent statue in the Library, but consistent and never questioning of her habits, was going to be here, in her home.

Another Spellsaven that would also be watching the pair of them.

Harlow was not worried about kher opinion on House.

House was wonderful but she had an intrusive thought that what if a Spellsaven thought that Harlow wasn’t doing her apprentice duties and reported it back to the Wizarding council, requesting replacement? It was completely absurd.

But the intrusive thought stuck and there was no dislodging it until the tea party was finished.

Atlas understood, having been an apprentice in their time as well, and eased off, giving Harlow space to process, but they hadn’t left her side.

They were always down the hall in another room but in the same wing of the Manor wherever Harlow went.

Close enough to come if called but far enough to still have privacy.

Harlow still didn’t know how she felt about it.

But preparing the house would give her no time to update the Guild Master or even sneak another peek at the device.

So, perhaps Harlow miscalculated, and everyone was a little stressed, a little on edge, over visitors.

But none of them knew about Lithon.

That was the biggest stressor.

The Thieves’ Guild had him on the payroll for over a decade.

The natural born magic user was very gifted at casting and fire was their specialty.

They could guide any fire spell as finely as a pen stroke or as wide as a tidal wave.

They were frequently used even as a student to assist in many larger heists, a perfect distractor, and their charming demeanor meant they got away with it every time.

Seriously.

With every fire spell, one had to submit an incident report, but the governing office was so overrun by Lithon’s casting that there was a preprogrammed spell that would auto-submit castings.

The office was so flooded with them that they barely looked at the details of each, which was why the Thieves’ Guild found him so valuable.

He was never questioned why he was at a masquerade of powerful people in a place that had a vault of, let’s say, the most sought-after imbued items on the west end because COURSE Lithon would be invited, if anything he was a guest of honor.

And not just because his net of lovers was wide and he, a perfect social example of how to have multiple partners and maintain healthy relationships, did not use his partners to gain him influence.

They had been and were still his partners.

Lithon was simply a great listener and had infectious positivity.

He was not a con man, he was not malicious.

He was just a good man.

She admitted to herself that she liked to pretend that his niceness was so grand it rotated all the way back around to being villainous.

A joke to herself and nothing more.

So, although her heart dropped at seeing him, if it had to be yet another person from the city to try to gain entrance to the vault, she was glad it was him.

There was a knock at the door and House refused to open it.

Not surprising.

And immediately upon hearing it, Atlas sat down next to the pillow they just placed and pulled it onto their lap, leaning back with limbs placed generously around.

An attempt to look...

natural? Harlow, unable to not watch whatever was going through that mind of theirs, noticed realization cross their face and they shook their head.

They stood and replaced the pillow on the settee and turned to her, dusting themselves off.

“Ahem, shall we?”

Atlas scooted off to the entryway, but Harlow beat them to it.

“Please, allow me.”

Her voice broke, betraying her nervousness.

Atlas nodded quickly with a gulp. “Yes, yes. Of course.”

Harlow opened the door wide enough to reveal both people.

Lithon stood slightly behind Magdalanous and looked dazzling in his star-studded caster robes.

Magdalanous was in a yellow tea-length sundress which had Harlow’s mouth agape.

Every single day for the years she had known Magdalanous, khey had only worn black and various shades of it.

She had assumed it was all khey wore at all but here khey were defying that assumption with such a wide declaration of color.

Kher scales were glistening, recently polished, and the Librarian looked refreshed.

Was managing the library at the university really that draining, or perhaps it was that khey really need to see kher wife.

Covering Harlow’s silence, Atlas stepped forward and gestured widely in the direction of the living room.

“Welcome to Daggerroot Manor! Yes, yes, this way.

Mags, you look fantastic, has anyone said that it really brings out your shoulders? And Apprentice Lithon, always good to see a fellow caster in the flesh.

Please, please, this way.”

Atlas turned on their heel and led the way, taking extra-long steps that Magdalanous seemed to be able to keep up with, but Lithon and Harlow were left to themselves.

Lithon bowed to Harlow, and she dipped her head in response.

Could she close the door right now? Just leave him out there and then call it a day? No, that would cause more alarms than needed and besides, Atlas would likely come back for them.

Which was also to say, she really, really didn’t want to be disrespectful to another Spellsaven.

If she let him in, would it mean she was an accomplice, that whatever he did and whatever the outcome, she let him in the house.

If she closed the door, he would likely report, one way or another, to Kob and then Kob would pull her from the job.

It was a shit feeling.

Lithon took it upon himself to pop his head in and looked around.

He stepped in and closed the door behind him.

Harlow rolled her eyes but moved aside for him to do so.

“Oh, ‘ello, Kips. How’s the day going?”

Lithon smiled widely while using the childhood nickname.

Harlow glared but smirked her way through as by using her old nickname, it gave her clearance to use his. “A little long already but I’m sure it’ll get underway. You look fantastic, Dogmeat, you shouldn’t have dressed up so much.”

He seemed unaffected. “Oh, this? Well, I thought you might appreciate a little pizazz and I had to find some way to be seen next to the Spellsaven...”

He jutted his neck forward and spoke in a whisper. “Can you believe it, yellow? I would have thought khey were allergic to color.”

Harlow fell quickly into reacting like old friends. “Khey must actually be allergic to us. I don’t think I could tell anyone else, they wouldn’t believe me.”

Lithon nodded his agreement and looked briefly at the state of things, and his gaze fell to the vase she and Atlas worked so hard on. “Oh, I see you pulled out all the stops.”

Harlow chuckled and took a few steps towards the living room. “If only you knew.”

Lithon, used to the banter, really could not know the extent that she could influence any more “stops,”

that it was highly likely that if Harlow even whispered to House that she wanted him removed it would likely comply,

It went rather smoothly. Harlow had always dreamed that when two Spellsavens met up, it would be anything but casual. That there would be spells flying, experimentation notes shared, or collaborations on solving society’s problems. But no, unfortunately for Harlow it was boring as ever. Like going over with a parent to a family friend’s house for a “visit”

where you, the one dragged along, just sat there desperately trying to disassociate into something else. But she couldn’t do that. She had to keep eyes on Lithon.

Who did certainly not make it easy. He had a great ability to predict when someone was about to run out of tea, it was almost like magic itself. He had excused himself to the kitchen several times to the refill teapot, to put the kettle on, to find more sugar. Any excuse he could find, he tried, and it was driving Harlow lowkey mad.

The first few times, she got up with him, as he had never been there before, but soon after he’d get up and audibly tell Harlow to not get up, “he could manage,”

and then with a wink and flourish, he’d be off.

Atlas didn’t seem to notice these multiple excuses as they were intensely in a discussion on whether deckled pages were fancy or looked like the book was fighting for its life.

Atlas liked them, said it was easier to turn the pages and they liked the texture.

Magdalanous debated that the texture was exactly the problem.

More edges meant more places for dust to hide, for discoloration, and as a librarian, dust was something khey battled day in and day out and no cleaning spells or dust deterrent seemed to keep books with deckled edges clean.

Something about how a spell had issues determining what a book page was versus a shelf and then THAT sparked the ranges of vocabulary between languages.

Lithon finally stood and smoothed down his robes, asking for the bathroom, which was no surprise due to all the tea he was packing away.

Before she could stand to escort him, Atlas motioned over their shoulder.

“Just down the hall and to the left.

I’m sure you can manage, chap.”

Lithon grinned mischievously.

Harlow stewed in place by crossing her arms and nervously tapping her foot against the couch leg.

As Atlas and Magdalanous continued conversation, now on the level of floppy books and what constituted a suitable flop and what didn’t.

Whatever that meant.

Harlow was focused on counting the minutes.

After fifteen minutes passed, she had reached the end of her patience.

Harlow stood and was about to explain herself to the other Spellsaven but they seemed in such a degree of discussion that they hadn’t noticed or at least reacted to her standing.

She muttered that she’d be back real quick.

Following in Lithon’s footsteps, Harlow found the guest bathroom.

Its door was closed, but when she got closer House opened it for her.

It was empty with the sink slightly on.

House turned that off too when she entered.

So, no Lithon.

Of course. She would have passed him on the way back. So now he was alone and loose within House.

At least his mission wasn’t about targeting Atlas...

which still could happen, but he’d likely only be looking for the location of the vault.

Standing within the dusty blue tiled bathroom, Harlow cracked her neck by rolling it around and took deep breaths, stretching her arms over her head like she was about to start exercising.

Instead of taking off after him this second, she spent time opening various portals in her pockets to gather reagents.

Mostly they revolved around creating traps.

She couldn’t risk spells that would hurt him in any way.

Even if he deserved it, damaging a Spellsaven’s assistant would be grounds of her own dismissal.

She’d have to be tactful and deliberate.

Lithon wouldn’t know what hit him.

Harlow closed the door behind her and set off down the hallway, heading deeper into the house.

She didn’t run or panic.

She trusted House to bring her to him or vice versa.

One way or another, she’d get there in time, but she couldn’t have him find anything.

There was always a chance he could prepare against House’s defenses and tactics with certain navigation spells.

Atlas had blocked these as it was the first thing she tried, but what if they’d been working on updating the spell or finding a way around Atlas’s spellwork?

It was after two turns of a hallway that she decided to gently take off her boots and set them aside, not wanting any footsteps to give her away.

With House changing constantly, detecting and avoiding any creaky floorboards was just about impossible.

With freshly darned socks (sure a spell could fix it but there was something calming about mending things by hand), Harlow stalked her prey.

She came across him easily enough with House’s assistance.

He looked slightly frazzled but she could only get small peeks around corners or from open doorways so she wouldn’t give away her position.

He rubbed his face with his hands a few times, even messing up the quaff of hair that framed his face.

It could be fun to see him try or to see if he could locate it himself.

Harlow’s curiosity got the best of her and she continued to follow instead of interrupt.

To his credit, he paused a few times and shot a narrowed gaze down the hall in her direction.

Paranoid people had a naturally high perception.

Not that they could interpret anything they found very well but they could notice things better than most.

And he must have noticed something was off.

The air in the hall began to chill and Harlow didn’t even notice until the breath in front of her face was visible.

Damn, House, that’s cold...

and actually cold.

To his credit, Lithon no longer pretended that everything was just fine and he took off. Jogging down the halls, he made turns at random and House was more than eager to keep him going in circles unknowingly.

There was a change of wallpaper which threw Harlow off enough for her to slow down and inspect it. Was this a hallway she hadn’t seen before, or did House do this willingly?

That was her mistake, as she looked back after Lithon only to see him paused at the end, near a staircase with wide placed legs and a pouting look on his face.

They stared each other down right there. Neither one moving first. There would be no “oops, didn’t see you there.”

They both knew each other well enough to know what the other was up to.

Lithon was caught not in the bathroom and wandering the halls.

He’d likely know that Harlow was there as a plant and she knew what he’d be up to.

He could come quietly, admit defeat, and follow her back, likely to try again another day, OR he could try to lose her, which would be a mistake and just about impossible.

But then he moved and sprinted two stairs at a time up the staircase.

Harlow sighed and rolled her shoulders before launching after him.

Missing her boots, it took a slight amount of concentration to not skid across the wood floors but she did gain on Lithon, also thanks to House making hallways extra short and forcing Lithon to have to continue turning and losing a quarter of his momentum.

With his steps around the corners more erratic, likely due to getting dizzier, Harlow reached out for him and grabbed two handfuls of his robes.

She pulled back but he struggled forwards.

Harlow wrapped her arms around his waist and held on, dropping her weight down to the ground as quickly as possible.

Lithon was yanked downwards, and he yelped.

The sorcerer put his hands in front to catch himself against the ground and shouted. “Harlow, knock it off!”

She held on and Lithon continued, not wanting to stop, so the only way he could move was to crawl with his arms and strain to drag the both of them.

“Seriously, Harlow. Let go, I’ll call for Spellsaven Daggerroot!”

Lithon dug in a pocket and held a calling chip. Calling chips, when broken, would notify the spoken name of their location, which was usually for help and worked within 100 yards. So, it was a credible threat.

“Oh, you need a Spellsaven to save you, Apprentice?”

They paused and held each other like two children about to call for their parent. Harlow growled, “...you wouldn’t dare.”

Lithon stopped crawling completely and looked over his shoulder to her clenching around his waist. Moments passed as she could see his lip twitch as he decided. “Gah.”

He tossed the chip to the side of the hall where it skidded to a stop. “Only because I don’t want Mags to know I’m down here.”

“Good. Now. Let’s. Go. Back.”

Harlow spread her knees in an effort to gain more traction so she could pull Lithon back in the direction they came.

“No chance, Harlow... I got to find it.”

Lithon was getting angry. Not something she could say she’d ever experienced before with him.

“No. You. Don’t.”

Harlow made a quick jerk, shoving her feet under him and leaning back as far and quickly as she could, flipping him off his crawling posture to being now entangled in a pinned position in which Harlow wrapped an elbow around his neck and a leg around his, keeping the leverage.

She threaded her other arm between his arms and his back, keeping them pinned between their bodies.

Lithon struggled in place before sighing and going limp. “Harlow.”

“Lithon.”

He said it softer. “Harlow.”

Harlow didn’t loosen her grip but she did adjust to make it at least slightly more comfortable for him. “Just stop, okay.”

The sorcerer drew in a deep breath and sighed. “Fine. But only for today.”

Harlow weighed her options and figured this was the best she’d get other than straight up kidnapping him and holding him away from his task, which would only bring Magdalanous’ wrath upon her. “Fine.”

She released him and Lithon flopped to the side. They were both winded from struggling and now lay side by side, catching their breath, limbs splayed around them.

“Kips?”

“Hmm?”

Harlow closed her eyes, silently thanking House for whisking away the frigid air.

“I thought you wanted this?”

Lithon was quiet spoken.

He didn’t need to explain anything more. They’d known each other too long.

“I thought I did to,” she said.

“What changed?”

Harlow shrugged, knowing he ‘d have to infer with the sounds of shifting fabric and not a verbal response.

“Why do you want it so bad, Dogmeat?”

she teased.

Lithon groaned and she could hear him changing his weight to lay on his side. His voice was easier to hear now. “Because Kob said he’d buy out my contract...”

Those on payroll had their own contracts as unique to them as their required services. Lithon’s was years and years old, since he was still a young street urchin. He got paid well, and was taken care of by the guild, but there were clauses that were in these contracts that implied there was no end date to their exclusivity. Harlow hadn’t known that Lithon wanted out. She felt guilt pang her side. She never asked if he was happy with the arrangement. Harlow peeked an eye open. “Hmm, fair enough.”

Lithon nodded and laid back on the ground, using that same arm under his head. The two of them looked like they belonged in an open field staring at clouds passing, not in the hallways of an old manor.

“Harlow?”

He sounded just as tired as she felt.

She murmured, closing her eyes again, “Hmmm?”

“What the fuck is up with this house?”