Her hands ran across the cool marble, the manor above her - around her - as sparkling as the day it was built. Or she assumed. She took great care in having it cleaned, it if wasn't, she wasn't going to be happy.

Heather had absolutely no intentions of abandoning her manor in France. In fact, she wouldn't have abandoned it even if they tried to make her abandon it. That's why it was going to England... Well, relatively speaking, it was staying put, but they would think it was in England. Simple portal magic, really. Which was why she had to make sure everything was in top shape before she cast the portal. Anything that was less than perfect would be an embarrassment.

"Madamoiselle?" Heather turned towards the inquiror and gave Arielle a look that clearly told her to keep talking. "The training room is set, and there is nothing out of place, as you've requested."

Everything was set. "Merci," Heather murmured. Casting this portal charm would take a lot of her energy. She would have to rest slightly ahead of schedule, then. Tonight, perhaps. "Tell the girls to gather in the foyer. Let's give the Order a welcome, yes?"

"Oui, madamoiselle." She was off, to relay the message, and Heather swept her hand across the marble once more of the spare closet just to the left of the foyer. It was large, large enough to contain a few people, and it was easy to ward - meaning it could be contained. She didn't want them coming at all hours of the day, afterall.

"Aperi portam." The marble she had swept her hand across turned a translucent blue color and then slowly dripped down until the entirety of the wall under the arch was blue as well - providing a solid portal. "Basement, 12 Grimmauld Place," Heather spoke clearly. And the blue faded into the dark basement of the home she would visit - and had visited often - in the last few months. The Order Headquarters.

She took a deep breath and stepped through, feeling something akin to water touch her skin, but once she was through the portal, she was dry. And she was standing in a dark, cold room. Her feet turned her, to face the portal, which was the only source of light, and she spotted the white, brightly lit room of Draconem Manerium - Dragon Manor. "Draconem Manerium," she spoke just as clearly as before and the rippling image solidified, providing a perfect gateway to her home, and from her home here.

She settled a smirk on her face and began walking up the stairs, kicking open the door - which she hoped would alert the Order of her arrival. She leaned on the door a second later and began counting.

"One... Two... Three... Four... Five... Six... Seven... Eight..." She heard thundering footsteps sprinting in her direction. How sloppy. "Seventeen... Eighteen..." And then suddenly a spell was being shot at her. She cast a shielding charm until they realized who she was. "Twenty four seconds? Really? I could have killed you all by then," Heather remarked. She dropped the shield, smirking at a mystified Order standing in the narrow hall. "How many Order members can fit into a small hallway? I guess we'll find out." She turned abruptly, heading down the stairs of the basement. "Are you going to follow me, or not?"

"How did you get in here?" Remus demanded. "No one heard you apparate-"

"Because I didn't apparate," Heather interrupted. "Lumos Maxima." The blue light left the tip of her wand and illuminated the room, revealing the portal door to those that had followed. "This is how we will train. I will take those interested to my Manor, in which training will begin immediately - and when I mean those interested, I mean all of those phyiscally able to fight. You have no choice." She gave a sweet smile as she stood next to the portal, inspecting her nails. "Well? I do not have all day. In fact, I will only extend the offer for thirty seconds before I cancel the portal and we don't see each other again-"

"Portals?" some bushy haired girl whispered. "But... those are so difficult to make-"

"Yes, well, enough marveling. I'm bored already." She glanced at Potter, who she assumed was the girl's friend. "Does she always state the obvious, because if so, I'm afraid I don't have the time to teach you all how to be intelligent, either." The girl flushed, either in anger or embarrassment, Heather didn't know, nor care. "If you'll please walk through the portal, life would be entirely easier. Cancelling portals is such a drain of my magic, I'm not even sure if you lot are worth it-"

"Who's on the other side?" Mad-Eye snapped.

"My Dragons," Heather remarked. "Waiting for you. It's rude to keep people waiting. Manners as well, bloody hell, am I in a zoo?" She cast them all a glare that told them they were being ridiculous, and stepped through the portal, so that she was on the otherside, and glanced back at the Order, who's jaws had dropped. Oh, bloody hell. They were all idiots. She shook her head in disappointment before opening the door to the closet, revealing the brightly, brightly lit foyer of the Manor. She turned back, raising an eyebrow, daring them to object now.

Slowly they began to filter through, and Heather directed them to the foyer, waiting until everyone was through, until she shut the closet door and cast a warding charm. "You'll find that this portal is only accessible to my manor when the wards are off of my door. I do not want you snooping around. Only I will be able to access the wards - being blood wards, so there's no chance you'll ever be able to break them... don't even try, or you may be one fighter short in battle." Heather turned, stalking to the middle of the foyer, the Order trailing behind her. "You'll do well to keep up, as the Manor is extensive and we have much to see." She turned towards the row of twenty Dragons, all dressed in identical peace colored dresses that went mid-thigh, all with their hair pinned back into a tight bun, all with their postures stiff, straight. "And these... these are my girls. Each is extremely disciplined, extensively trained, and skilled in Muggle, Wizarding, and Werewolf combat. We value precision, teamwork, and trust. Each of these girls has been hand selected by myself, and each girl has given up a life with family and friends to be here. We are each other's family, and we are each other's friends. Lovers are permitted, if they are extremely screened, interrogated, and with a memory modification charm that is to take place immediately after being cast away."

"But... that's immoral," Hermione spoke up.

Heather snorted. "We give up much to be here. And having loved ones that will weaken us if they are ever caught... not an option." She turned towards each of her girls, surveying them critically. "Each necklace they wear is a tracking device as well as a communication device. Not only do the girls have the ability to communicate with each other in battle, but also it provides me a point of reference if ever they are captured. They are nearly impossible to remove. If they prove to betray myself and my Dragons, the necklace will kill them on the spot." She gave the Order a smile that promised pain. "They are not only skilled in combat, but etiquette, language, and deception - each know how to interrogate, each know how to kill, and each know how to be very beautiful once they do it." Heather turned abruptly, her feet taking her through the path created by the twenty girls, and she moved towards the staircase that led downstairs.

"Where are we going?"

"The training floor." It was a ... well, a big floor. And being underground, provided more room that the upper floors. "It is an entirely open space," Heather explained. "The pool is tucked away in the corner, the shooting range just opposite. We also have archery, weight training, and an extensive dueling floor, with spell absorbant walls should not all spells be blocked effectively. It's safest. There is a track around the entire perimeter, providing a running station for stamina and endurance. Each of my girls run ten miles a day, if the day is good. And fifteen if it is bad. They are also welcome to run more if they feel they need it - I let them design their own rigorous schedule once they graduate from their novice training." Heather turned to face the Order. "Which you will be unable to do. I will be dictating what you are working on, and where. They will be done in rotations, my Dragons helping with station to ensure maximum strength and endurance."

"How is this much training healthy?" Ronald Weasley questioned. Oh... such naive children.

"It's not," Heather said simply. "We are required to take three nutrient replenishing potions a day in order to ensure our health stays in optimal condition, as well as eat a well balanced diet. There are no vegetarians here, but the elves do not make a single food item that has anything that will damage our bodies internally. This includes chips, crisps, cookies, and a multitude of other sweets - but let's not forget the inability to eat anything that even has unnatural amounts of sugar in it." She smirked. "You all will also be on this diet. There will be no junk food, no snacks, no binging. You can't even try, here, because they do not exist. Breaking this rule, or any of my rules, will result in severe diciplinary action."

"And that would entail?"

Heather laughed, it echoing in the space as she climbed back up the stairs, the Order following her. "Pain tolerance training."

"And that's-?"

"Making you feel pain until you think it's just a dull ache. And keeping it up until breaking a bone seems like a simple sting from a bee." She shut the door behind them, moving towards the more residential part of the home. The sitting room, the kitchens, the dining hall. And the back veranda. It overlooked the Mediterranean Sea, the summer breeze tangling in her hair due to the open windows.

"Where are we?"

"I do not give a location, because there is no location. My Manor is unplottable, and probably the safest location in all of mainland Europe. No one has penetrated these walls since Vlad the Impaler in 1463," Heather remarked. "It is an ancient, and noble home, to one of the most ancient Houses in the Pureblood world." Her feet brought her to the veranda's rail, overlooking the sea. They were technically half over the water themselves, but... details. She gripped the rail as she gave a small sigh. She loved it here. It was so beautiful.

"What house?" Remus asked curiously.

"The House of Malfoy," Heather stated simply. "Ignatius Malfoy is a dear friend of mine, just as his children were." Her lips twitched at their memory, staring into the sea that they would often visit in recreational time. "This home was gifted to me in their passing." Her eyes swept to the left, to which she gestured. "Beauxbatons Academy is located fifty miles east of here, much closer to Monaco than we are to Spain."

"Malfoy?" one of the red-heads spoke up. "As in the Malfoy family that currently gussy up to You-Know-Who?"

Heather frowned, confused. "No, I'm talking about the Ignatius Malfoy line, of whom was exiled to France in the first war by his father, Abraxus Malfoy. Ignatius is nothing like his brother, Lucius. In fact, he lives here... but it is so rare to see him these days."

"I thought you said he died-"

"His children," Heather said carefully. "Corsica was one of my Dragons, one of my best, and the one I was closest to amongst all of my Dragons. We were friends before we were colleagues." Her jaw set. "And then there was Orion. Once he heard of my cause, he and his father approached me with the idea of using this place as our training grounds. We were quite close as well... He was as much a Dragon as a man could get." She nodded suddenly, turning. She couldn't think of it. She just couldn't, right now. "If you'll follow me, we will begin with breakfast."

"How close were you?" Remus questioned, almost as though scared to ask.

Heather swallowed, not turning to look at him as she answered firmly. "Close enough." She snapped her fingers at the elves standing, waiting for her. "We will need breakfast for each of the Order members. A usual breakfast that you cook for myself and the girls. Has Papa woken, yet?"

"He's on his way down, Miss. He has heard we have visitors," the Head elf, Demi, stated. "We will work on breakfast right away, Miss."

"Thank you," Heather replied, before turning and gesturing for them to sit at the long dining table. She quickly surveyed the group, noting that she knew most, except for a few of the red-heads. She wasn't familiar with members of the Weasley family other than those frequently in the news. "I have yet to meet some of you."

"Hermione Granger," the bushy-haired girl stated. Heather knew who she was. The Know-It-All of the troupe.

"Fred and George Weasley," a pair of twins remarked with grins that promised much pranking. Unacceptable in her Manor, but she'd see what they attempted first.

"Bill Weasley," another stated, a nod of his head. Manners, at least. And she hoped so, when she spotted the blonde beauty sitting beside him.

"Fleur Delacour," Heather grinned. "My, you've grown."

"Pregnant, ma chere," Fleur remarked, smiling. "Eets so good to see you!"

"We've missed you here, Fleur," Heather promised. "You also, were one of my best."

"Fleur was a Dragon?" Ron questioned. "Bloody hell-"

"Language," Heather bit at him crossly. "Yes, she was in my first group of trainees. She was forced to retire following the Tournament due to personal reasons." She glanced at Bill. "Which I now see." A throat cleared behind Heather, and the girl straightened immediately, as though she herself was about to be subject to scrutiny. She turned elloquently and gave a charming smile to the long haired blonde man across from her. "Papa," she greeted. "I heard you were up, but I was unsure if you would be on your way down. How are you feeling?"

He waved the worry away, "Always the same, my dear. Now, who is it that have joined us?"

"This is the Order, Papa," Heather introduced warmly. "There are some people I'm sure you'll remember from your own Hogwarts days - Remus Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks, Alastor Moody, Arthur Weasley, and Molly Weasley." Her eyes darted to the Order. "There are various new inductees, however. Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ronald Weasley, Fred and George Weasley, Bill Weasley, Ginny Weasley, and-"

"Fleur Delacour," Ignatius finished. "Welcome to my home. I hope you'll find it to your tastes."

"If I may ask," Arthur spoke up, "how did you get involved in... the Golden Dragons?"

Ignatius gave a chuckle and Heather swallowed, her face going neutral. He rarely laughed. "Oh, Heather was engaged to my son. I was more than happy to lend my home. Still more than happy, in fact. All of the girls have become my daughters, in one way or another."

"Engaged?" Remus questioned.

Heather cleared her throat, turning towards the kitchen abruptly. "Be sure to include Ignatius's breakfast, if you can. I must check on my Dragons." She left the room abruptly, knowing how it must have looked but... but just the thought of Orion, of thinking about him, made her feel unbearably angry with herself. It was her fault he was dead, and everyone knew that. And again, it was her fault Corsica was killed shortly afterwards. It was the cause of her stupid rebellious streak nearly a year ago. She paused just out of view, and squeezed her eyes shut, taking a deep breath to halt the emotion from surfacing. Now wasn't the time.

Still, Ignatius's voice drifted towards her, as the Manor wasn't exactly silenced.

"She's never quite been the same. I remember her so happy and always smiling and laughing... Now... She's angry. Always angry. She blames herself for my children's deaths, tortures herself over it all. It was never her fault. They made their own choices." She pressed her hand to her mouth, to keep a sob back, but a small noise escaped her. She needed to... to get away, but Iggy's voice followed her. "Happened nearly a year ago, I think. Anyway, she hates talking about it, so enough of that."

Ignatius must have sat because there was a sound of scraping chairs as Heather rushed up the stairs. She thrust open her bedroom door, the bedroom beside the Master suite, and once she managed to shut it, she sank down, breathing carefully. She had to focus on her breathing. It was a weakness to show such emotion. Because they could use it against her. And she couldn't afford to be weak.

She settled herself a few minutes later when there was a light knock on her bedroom door. She sucked in a breath, seeking strength, and rightened her appearance, gazing around her room. It was ... well, poor. While everything was tidy, there was very little inside. A dresser, a double bed she had shared with Orion, and a desk that held contents of plans, journals, anything to help with the war that wasn't in the study - the study Ignatius had let her take over.

"Enter," Heather stated, drawing herself towards the desk, looking over her lists of things that needed to be completed in the next few weeks - intelligence reports she needed to check out.

"Breakfast is ready," Ignatius stated quietly.

"I'll be down shortly. Thank you," Heather said quietly.

"I know it hurts, still... It hurts for everyone." She stiffened. "But... it mustn't bother you this much, unless there is something you aren't telling me." Heather's fingers traced the corner of a photo album, one she looked at in the late hours of the night when everyone was asleep. "Is there, Lyn?" Lyn. The name made her squeeze her eyes shut with emotion and she took a deep breath.

"Yes... but... I can't... I can't talk about it."

"Tonight, when they are gone?"

She nodded. She could do that. She could try, at least. She took another breath and glanced towards him, her neutral expression once more on her face. "The Order is eating?"

"They will once you arrive. Are the girls joining us?"

"No, they've already eaten," Heather stated simply. She walked past Iggy and he shut the door, before they walked down the stairs together. "They are certain that you are your brother in disguise, I suspect. Are you a Death Eater and you've yet to tell me?"

Ignatius laughed and she gave a heartfelt smile to the sound. She loved when she could make him laugh. "Oh, how did you find me out?"

"We all have our sources," she remarked.

She gave a cool expression to the Order as they glanced up at her reentrance and she acted as though it didn't phase her. They were idiots anyway. What they thought mattered not. Her seat was to the left of Ignatius and she glanced towards the plate waiting for her. An abundance of fruit as well as some grains.

"Where are the pancakes?"

"Too much butter," Heather remarked. "And the syrup has too much sugar. Only Ignatius eats a slightly unhealthy breakfast and I let it slide because he's old."

"Old?" Iggy demanded, looking suddenly like his older, slightly more demented brother. Heather smirked at the look. She loved it. "I'll have you know I'm younger than your parents."

"You certainly look old. And you've been slacking in your trainings. If you didn't loan this place, I'm certain I would have you eating air until you picked up your trainings once more." Heather shot him a wink and popped a grape into her mouth, a smile forming.

"Air would probably be more satisfying than this crap," Heather heard Ronald remark.

"Tore, please remove a quarter of Ronald Weasley's plate. We do not tolerate whining or complaints here, do we?"

"No, Miss. Of course, Miss." Said food was removed from Ron Weasley's plate in a blink and he let his jaw drop in shock. Heather gave him a smirk.

"You'll learn respect eventually, Ronald," she stated firmly.

"But there's not even sausage."

"Meats are for lunch and dinner. Breakfast is mainly fruits, a dairy item, and grains. As you'll see before you. Lunch consists of a sandwich, more fruit, and a soup item. And dinner is where most of us get the most calories for energy for the nightly training sessions - a large meat selection, another soup, a large vegetable variety, and a single glass of wine-"

"For the heart," Iggy commented.

"Of course," Heather agreed. "Dessert is usually a slice of chocolate once a week, a dairy item twice a week, and a sweet fruit four times a week. No alcohol is given besides the glass of wine. It doesn't even sit under this roof."

"Since the diet and trainings are so strict," Molly questioned. "What do you do for recreation?"

"The recreational activities we participate in are our trainings, Mrs. Weasley. I'm unsure if I understand your question," Heather answered, giving the woman a look that clearly wanted her to elaborate.

"Do you not listen to music? Paint? Shop?"

"What the girls choose to do in their time off, which is eight hours, is up to them. But the other sixteen are hours they spend with me. If they wish to lose their time for sleep, they can choose to do so. I could care less. They know their limits, and they know their body better than anyone else." Heather gave a nod. "They can choose to paint or listen to music in the comfort of their own room. Shopping is forbidden unless done in a group of four in a Muggle society, preferably in London, Madrid, or Milan, our closest large cities. No groups larger or smaller are permitted, nor are they allowed to break up into smaller groups. All dates are handled in the same matter. A group of four. We do not allow one on one dates as they are vulnerable. If a girl wishes to bring a man back to the Manor, they do so in a safe house a few miles away from us, on the property. It provides safety, yet also gives them privacy for interrogation and screening. Only then are they allowed entrance through the wards."

"And have any of your Dragons brought men back?"

"No, but the protocol is still in place," Heather stated simply. "Should the need ever arise." She glanced at Iggy. "Which I'm sure Iggy's grateful for. Strangers roaming the Manor are not tolerated."

"Each room is fitted with a warding system. No one is allowed entrance unless the ward says they may enter. You'll find other rooms on this floor and upstairs to be off limits to you - including the bedrooms, Heather's study, the library, and the sitting and drawing rooms."

"So, Heather, what do you do for fun?"

"I train," Heather stated with a bite of her strawberry. "And that is all I do. There is no need for me to do anything else. I've vowed my life in bringing Tom down, and so I am giving it."

"But... you aren't living," Molly murmured. "You're ... wasting your life training for one goal. And after it's done?"

"I will no doubt die in this war," Heather shrugged. "I do not have plans following it. I find such plans pointless. May I ask what your plans are following the war?"

"I... I haven't thought that far ahead, but I hope it includes peace and happiness," Molly said, a bit flustered by the turning of the tables. Heather smirked. All they wanted was peace and they didn't even know how to get there. How... quaint.

"And the future is likely to contain anything but," Heather pointed out. "People will die, regimes will fall, and you will be ... mourning a son, or two, perhaps die yourself. That is the happiness you will have, and that is the price you will pay for peace. Delusions only mask the reality of what is going on out there. Tom has murdered nearly two hundred thousand people since the start of the war two years ago. And he will keep murdering until he gets what he wants. And your family, as well as everyone sitting at this table, is on his hit list." Heather popped a grape into her mouth. "Don't delude yourself into thinking you'll come out of the war unscathed. You won't. None of you will."

Breakfast finished in silence, which Heather appreciated. She hated mindless chatter and questions. Just as much as she hated stupidity. "Madamoiselle?" Heather glanced up as the elves began taking away the empty plates and saw Cindy, clutching a green envelope. Heather was immediately to her feet, taking the small envelope from the werewolf. "Eet eez from Lucius Malfoi."

"Merci beaucoup," Heather murmured. She turned back towards the Order, her gaze on the envelope and she glanced up towards Ignatius. He nodded once and she tore it open.

"Oh, my, a verbal inquiry, I feel special," Heather smirked as it turned into something resembling a howler, only tame. Lucius always did love the dramatics. The Ministry often used such letters for when people needed to walk and read at the same time.

"Heatherlyn Draconis," Lucius's crisp voice stated. Heather let the letter follow her as she moved towards Ignatius. "Your request for Corsica Malfoy's remains in exchange for Rabastian Lestrange's remains is denied. We do not care for his remains as you seem to care for Miss Malfoy's. The Dark Lord sends his regards in your time of grieving." Heather let out a breath, to calm herself. "And also a reminder to the date in which you two had agreed upon last time you two were alone. He expects you to show as you always do." A few Order members looked upon her untrustingly. Good. That should be the first rule they learn. Never trust anyone. "We also extend another offer to join our cause. Your capabilities in the field is second to none." She smirked. "Our deepest sympathies, Lucius Malfoy."

"Tore, please record what I say into a return Speaker," Heather requested.

"Of course, Miss."

"What are you going to tell him?" Remus questioned. Heather didn't answer.