Beta love: Freya Ishtar

A Promise Unspoken

By Kittenshift17

CHAPTER TEN

Hermione smiled to herself as exams came to a close. She was finally finished. She'd heard the end-of-year exams were frightful, but she'd rather enjoyed them. She was saying as much to Harry and Ron as they all made to escape towards the grounds to enjoy the last few hours of sunshine. The graduation ceremony of the senior students was scheduled for the following day and Hermione found herself wondering if Finn had his tattoo yet.

As though thinking about the burly blond had summoned him, Hermione spotted him sauntering in their direction with the rest of his friends, laughing about something and goofing off.

"You never explained that," Harry pointed out to her, also looking in the direction of the boisterous laughter coming from the group.

"Explained what?" Hermione asked, turning to him. He still had a few scrapes on his face and his arms from their fight against Quirrell and Voldemort beneath the trap-door.

"You and that blond bloke," Harry said, eyeing Ron who suddenly looked stroppy about something.

"There's nothing to explain," Hermione shrugged. "We studied together in the library sometimes."

"I study in the library sometimes with you," Harry challenged. "But you don't see me pulling you into my lap, do you?"

Hermione sighed.

"I don't know what to tell you, Harry. Rowle is my friend. I think. I don't know. He's annoying. And a git. And I almost got him expelled earlier this year."

"You've been spending time with a bloke – a Slytherin – who you nearly got booted out of school?" Ron asked, sounding disgusted. "Yeah. That makes sense. It's not like those gits are the type who'll draw out their revenge until you've forgotten your offense against them in the first place."

"Who is he, anyway? I think I've seen him on the Quidditch pitch a few times," Harry asked.

"Thorfinn Rowle," Ron answered for her. "He just signed with the Ballycastle Bats as Beater for the team. He was beater for Slytherin until the Cup."

"He's going to play Quidditch professionally?" Harry asked, looking slightly awed and rather envious as he glanced back at the big Slytherin.

"Yeah," Ron grumbled.

"Try not to look star-struck, Harry," Hermione chuckled. "He's arrogant enough without hero-worship over his career."

"Why do you hang out with him if you think he's an arrogant, annoying git?" Ron wanted to know, looking defensive.

"Arrogant? Annoying git?" a familiar voice drawled. "Wouldn't be talking about me, would you, Princess?"

Hermione twisted her neck slightly to see Thorfinn Rowle swaggering towards the three of them.

"I'd have said wretched moron if I were, I'm sure," Hermione replied, grinning at him.

"Cheeky little brat," he accused, laughing. "'Scuse me boys, but I'm confiscating this."

Hermione squealed when he invaded her personal space, stooped down and toted her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"Damn it, Finn! I'm wearing a skirt!" Hermione protested, immediately beating her fists against his back.

"Funnily enough, I noticed that, Kitten," he chuckled. "Oi, watch it, Ginger."

Hermione twisted in his hold to see that Ron had drawn his wand threateningly.

"Let her go," Ron demanded, looking like he didn't feel as brave as he acted.

"Don't think I will, kid. Put that away before I jam it somewhere unpleasant, yeah?" Thorfinn told Ron. "Kitten? Tell your friend to back off, before I break him."

"Do it, Ron," Hermione sighed. "I'll be fine. Where are you taking me, Neanderthal?"

"Hush up, Baby-girl," Finn retorted.

"Don't shush me, cretin," Hermione hissed. "I swear, Finn, if anyone sees my knickers because you're being a git, I'm going to hex you again."

"Don't get 'em in a twist, Cub," he laughed. "There's no one around to notice."

"Hey, where are you taking her?" Harry protested.

"Easy, Potter," Thorfinn laughed. "I'll bring her back in one piece, I promise. I've got unfinished business with this one. You two just run along and play in the sunshine now. Go on."

Hermione waved her friends away when Finn turned his back on them and strode off down the corridor.

"You're being very rude, you know?" Hermione told him. "This is hardly the way to instigate polite discussion."

"Who said anything about polite?" Thorfinn laughed when he carried her into an abandoned classroom.

Hermione noticed idly that it was the same one he'd carried her into last time as he moved over and perched her on the windowsill so that she was at eye level with him. He flicked his wand at the door to lock it over his shoulder.

"Want to tell me what the hell you were thinking, Princess?" he asked, pocketing his wand once more and pressing his hands either side of her thighs. Hermione noticed idly that he moved close enough to stand between her knees.

"Thinking?" Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows, uncertain of what he was talking about.

"Running off and getting yourself into trouble with Quirrell. Letting Potter led you into trouble," he clarified

"You know about that?" she asked, surprised.

"The whole school knows about that," he replied. "Didn't I say you'd end up in trouble with those two?"

Hermione stared at him, baffled by his obvious annoyance with her. She blinked at him for a moment, trying to work out what his problem was.

"You were worried about me, weren't you?" Hermione grinned suddenly, tilting her head to one side.

"Why would you think that, little lioness?" he asked rather than answering. His eyes glittered with something she couldn't name as he watched her.

"Because you're interrogating me about it," Hermione smiled. "You wouldn't ask if you didn't care."

He didn't answer her question or comment on her conclusions. He just continued to stare at her.

"What do you want me to say?" Hermione asked defensively, feeling herself beginning to squirm beneath his intense gaze. "Harry's my friend. He needed my help. Quirrell would have gotten the stone if Harry hadn't gotten there in time."

"Potter would have poisoned himself without you there to hold his hand and walk him through every step of the apparent obstacles protecting the Stone," Thorfinn argued.

"How do you know about the obstacles?" she asked, brow furrowed. No one was supposed to know about things like that. It had been hushed up as much as possible. The teachers didn't want anyone knowing their protective enchantments had been overcome by first years. Not that Hermione blamed them.

"Slytherin," Thorfinn said as though that were an answer enough. He pointed to his chest indicatively, identifying himself by that title.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Speaking of your being a Slytherin," she said, trying to change the subject and not liking his intense gaze. "Are you going to show me your tattoo, or do I have to guess about it forever?"

He smirked slowly at her words.

"I don't have it yet. I haven't complete my final task yet," he smirked at her.

"You still haven't snogged a Gryffindor?" Hermione said, her eyes widening in alarm. "You graduate tomorrow, Finn. If you don't do it in time, you'll break your oath. How could you not have snogged a Gryffindor yet? I hardly think all the girls in my entire house are that repulsive to you! I mean, it might be difficult for you to convince them to snog you, but I mean, you did just get signed as a professional player for the Bats. Use your impending fame to lure one of the Quidditch minded little chits and you'll be fine."

"You're cute when you fuss after me," he told her, grinning. Hermione blinked, stopped short in her rambling at his words. When he brought his hand up to her chin, Hermione gulped audibly.

"Fuss?" she protested, attempting to hide her sudden nerves when she met his gaze and found him watching her intently again, only this time he was smirking wickedly and looking entirely predatory. "I don't fuss, Finn. If you're too chicken to kiss a Gryffindor, you'll just give me firsthand knowledge of what will happen to me if I don't complete my tasks in time."

"Your concern for my well-being is touching," he deadpanned. Hermione smiled in spite of herself. There were butterflies rioting in her tummy and she couldn't think straight when he brushed his fingers the length of her jaw and back again.

"I'm a caring person," she retorted, smiling.

"I have something for you," he told her, smiling in return.

"Oh?" Hermione asked, her insides clenching as she wondered what it could be. Would he kiss her to complete her task list?

She felt her smile slip ever so slightly when he dug his free hand into his pocket and withdrew something. It gleamed in the sunlight streaming through the window behind her.

"What is it?" Hermione asked, watching his hand as the glittering things seemed to circle his fingers. He held it apart with them.

"It's for you," he told her softly. "Will you wear it?"

Hermione blinked in surprise when she realised he was offering her a silver bracelet. The fine links of the chain were adorned with little clusters of silver balls dangling from them, looking like tiny snow-berries along the length of it. It was simplistic, but beautiful. Searching his face for a moment when she managed to drag her eyes from the gift, Hermione saw there was the faintest hint of tension in his eyes, his body taut as though expecting a blow of rejection from her.

"Will you put it on me?" she asked softly, holding her wrist out to him.

"You'll wear it?" he asked, sounding relived. "You like it?"

"It's beautiful, Finn," Hermione whispered, watching as he fumbled the catch slightly, using both hands to fasten the fine chain closed around her slim wrist.

She smiled softly, recalling what he'd said to her when she'd first put beads in his hair.

"We've an understanding, Thorfinn Rowle."

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

Thorfinn trembled at the feel of the reciprocated betrothal bond between them solidifying. Hermione's eyelids fluttered at the feel of the magic bonding the two of them to one another.

"Mmm," she murmured, seemingly unaware of the sigh of contentment leaving her.

"Bloody hell," Thorfinn muttered. He'd been debating with himself for a few weeks now over whether or not he ought to do what he'd just done and reciprocate or if he should take the beads out of his hair and try to forget this little witch ever existed. She was trouble and she was going to mess with his head, he was sure of it.

"Are you alright?" she asked him quietly when she opened her eyes.

Thorfinn eyed the way her pupils were blown wide as she looked at him and he knew she was feeling the need to solidify the bond they'd just created - her, unknowingly - just as much as he was.

"Are you?" he asked rather than answering her.

She nodded her head, smiling.

"Thank you for the bracelet," she said, looking away from him to examine the gift. "It's lovely. Though I don't know what I've done to earn a present from someone who barely tolerates me."

"Got me through my exams," he replied evenly. "Let me manhandle you to better focus on my study. And, you know, you gave me jewellery. It's only right that I reciprocate."

He indicated to the beads still plaited into his hair.

"Want more?" she asked, smiling as she reached up with her left wrist - the one he'd fastened the bracelet around - to fiddle with the braid swinging from his temple.

"Do you want to give me more?" he asked, once again avoiding answering her questions.

"Yes," she admitted. "If you don't mind them? It's not like I'll ever use them all."

"Do me one favour?" he asked then, grinning slightly.

"What is it?" she hedged.

"Let me put one in your hair. Just one?" he asked.

"Why?" she asked, tipping her head to one side.

"I don't know. I kind of like the idea of you wearing one, too."

"Where?" she asked, reaching for the tie holding her wild curls in a messy bun at the back of her head. They spilled free of the restraint in a riotous mess, the coils kinking and twisting into a long mane about her shoulders. She wore them long - no doubt to try and have gravity pull some of the body from the kinks - so they reached her waist when they were loose.

"May I?" Thorfinn asked politely, wanting more than anything to sink his hands into the wild tangle.

She nodded her head, holding still when he reached for her with both hands. An unbidden grin crossed his face when he gripped fistfuls of the curls tightly.

"Where can I put one that will be the most manageable for you?" he asked seriously, working his fingers through the tangle with amusement.

"Somewhere at the edge. Maybe under here," she reached for the left side of her neck right behind her ear where he wore two plaits himself. "That way I can just gather it with the rest when I put it up but won't get the brush stuck it in by accident."

Thorfinn nodded, continuing to play with the curls while she fished her hair-accessories purse from her pocket and dug out some of the beads. She set them in her lap before reaching for his hair and Thorfinn chuckled when she got her hands stuck in the tangles.

"You never brush yours, do you?" she asked, laughing.

"Not if I can help it," he admitted.

"So it doesn't matter where I put them all?"

"How many do you have?" he asked curiously.

"There were about twenty in the pack when I bought it. You've already got five and you're putting one in my hair. Want fourteen more?"

"Probably not that many. Maybe ten in total?" he suggested.

Granger nodded, holding still when he coaxed three of her coiled ringlets to twining together in a plait. The hum of magic at the snap of each bead of the ends of their hair made goose-pimples race across her skin and Thorfinn grinned. She obviously didn't think it was magic to blame, from the way her cheeks turned pink.

"Can I ask you something, Finn?" she said carefully as she was plaiting a ninth bead into his hair, this one nestled next to the one hanging from his temple.

"What is it, Kitten?" he wanted to know, wary but curious when he picked up on her cautious tone.

"What does the word 'mudblood' mean?" she asked in a small voice.

"You don't know what...?" Thorfinn trailed off, catching her hands as she snapped the ninth bead closed and waiting for her to look at him.

"I assume it means dirty blood," she said. "But I couldn't find a definition for it anywhere. And given Dolohov's proclivity for using it only when referring to me whilst wearing an expression of disgust and hatred, I know it's an insult, but what does it mean? Why does he think I have dirty blood?"

"Because your parents are both muggles," Thorfinn told her gently. "There are certain people in the wizarding who value the 'quality' of their blood based on being of 'pure' wizarding descent. Meaning that they and all their ancestors have had parents, grandparents, what have you, as being entirely magical. Witches or wizards. There are people who consider muggles to be lesser beings because they can't practice magic. There are also arguments for and against blood purity - the big one being that 'purebloods' believe the intermingling of magical and muggle blood will be more likely to result in the birth of Squibs. You know what they are?"

"Non-magical people born to witches and wizards," Hermione nodded. "Why does that mean that people like Dolohov think I have dirty blood?"

"Well he thinks muggles are scum, essentially. Making you someone born of scum because of the blood that runs through your veins. A lot of it is bollocks," Thorfinn told her. "These days there likely isn't anyone left who is completely 'pure' or the line would've died out as a result of prolific inbreeding. A fair few families did, in fact."

"This has to do with the Sacred Twenty-Eight, doesn't it?"

'You know what that means?" Thorfinn asked her curiously.

"I was under the impression that it was a list of the families deemed 'more' magical because of the long, uninterrupted bloodlines of magical descent."

"Pretty much. If someone calls you a mudblood, they're essentially saying you're filthy and that your blood is impure. Most of the families on the Sacred Twenty-Eight are prejudiced about blood. Not all, obviously. You're git of a friend, Weasley, is on that list. His lot are considered blood-traitors because they betray their purity by associating with or breeding with muggles or muggleborns."

"So when Dolohov calls me that, he's essentially saying I'm a lesser citizen than him because his parents are magical and mine aren't?" Hermione asked, her brow furrowed.

"Pretty much, Princess."

"That's ridiculous!" Hermione said. "I'm the brightest witch in my year. I can do all the spells the teachers give us long before the class begins. I'm currently studying Transfiguration and Charms at a fourth year level! How dare anyone try to tell me I'm less magical or less of a witch just because my parents are muggles? I can correct seventh years on their NEWT exams and he thinks I'm lesser than him? That arrogant, disgusting arse!"

Thorfinn watched as the tiny witch worked herself into a rage and he looked on with amusement and maybe just a touch of pride when he caught the way blue sparkles of magic crackled through her curls. With his hands still in them, the sparks raced over his skin, electrifying him slightly. Her magical signature ran the length of his and Thorfinn breathed in her lavender and green tea scent. He could feel the power of her magic against his in a way that made him quiver where he stood. She was far more powerful than she knew.

"Do you feel that way?" she demanded, drawing his attention back to her now scowling face.

"No," he admitted. "My grandmother, Pandora, is a muggle-born witch. And she's powerful, like you. Rowles are typically known for our quick tempers and our bad habit of accidental magic manifesting in fire - or, in bad cases, Fiendfyre - when we lose our tempers. That woman can look my grandfather's temper and Fiendfyre right in the face and tell it to fuck off without batting an eye. She's been looking into her bloodline for years. Most of the research she's done finds that when two muggles with magical ancestors anywhere in their bloodline reproduce, magical children result. Meaning somewhere in your family tree on both side of the family, you have a witch or a wizard. Squibs are the reverse, which is another reason 'purebloods' like to argue against the idea of breeding with muggles and muggleborns. No one wants to birth a squib. Muggleborns are a miracle; squibs are just a disappointment."

"Your grandmother sounds amazing," she told him, her hair still crackling. "Do you know why I haven't been able to find any of this out about blood prejudice and why I had such a hard time finding a definition for the slur?"

"Dumbledore's all about embracing everyone, regardless of blood. He had all the prejudiced books hauled form the library and likely burned."

"Oh," she said.

"Yeah. Slytherin house was founded by a notorious bigot, actually. There has never been a muggleborn sorted into Slytherin."

"I knew your House was dodgy," she told him. "Oh, and urgh! This means I'm magically bound to complete a Rite of Passage pertaining to your bigoted house. Why did you do this to me?"

"Not everyone thinks that way, Baby-girl," Thorfinn smirked at her outrage while she worked a tenth plait into his hair before putting her purse of beads and things away once more.

"That's not the point. What's the tattoo look like? If I end up wearing a Slytherin emblem or something, I'm going to maim you, Thorfinn Rowle."

He knew he was twisted when his body twitched at her use of his full name. Thorfinn found his eyes straying to her lips as she continued snarling about blood prejudice, bigots and the Rites he'd roped her into. It had to be part of their betrothal bond making him want to do inappropriate things to her in spite of her young age.

"Princess?" he interrupted her tirade about the idea of taking her chances at breaking her oath if the alternative meant she'd have a snake tattoo at the end of the rites.

"Don't you 'Princess' me, Rowle," she snapped. "You got me into this mess... what are you doing?"

Her words came out muffled when he cupped her jaw in both hands. He had one task left to complete and too-young or not, he was completing it with this feisty little Gryffindor.

"One task left, Baby-girl," he murmured, his eyes darting between her lips and her eyes, waiting to see how she would react.

"On your list? Yes, I know. You have to stop being a chicken and kiss a Gryffindor... oh!" Her cheeks flushed crimson as she realised what she'd just said and what he was intending to do.

Leaning towards her slowly, watching her and waiting to see if she looked scared or if she didn't want him to do it, Thorfinn twitched painfully when her little pink tongue darted out to dampen her soft pink lips. She looked at his own lips before meeting his gaze, her eyes darting back to his mouth again when he felt a smile begin to threaten upon them. She wanted to kiss him too. He could tell. She was nervous and maybe a bit worried that she'd do it wrong, but he could tell she wanted him to kiss her.

He went slow, inching towards her to give her ample chance to stop him if she wanted to. But that wasn't in his little lioness's nature. As she had done with everything else he'd come at her with, she met him head on, tipping her face up slightly. He brushed his lips softly over hers, aware that this was likely her very first kiss. Thorfinn had to ignore the jolt that ran through him at the touch, the one that insisted he deepen the kiss and pull her to him in unbridled passion. Pressing his lips to hers chastely, he gauged her reaction on the way her breath hitched at the caress. When she didn't panic or pull away from him, Thorfinn did it again, pressing his lips to hers a third time as one of his hands left her jaw to slide into her curls.

Pressing his luck, he opened his mouth slightly, flicking his tongue out tentatively to trace the seam of her lips. He expected she would pull away from him in surprise or disgust. She didn't. She flinched slightly at the touch, but she didn't pull back from him and Thorfinn felt a smirk threaten upon his lips when he recalled the number of times she'd taunted him with discussion of sexual acts she shouldn't know anything about. Clearly she'd read all about how to kiss a bloke. When she parted her lips slightly in response and tentatively brushed her tongue against his, Thorfinn thought he might choke on his own need. She was cautious, tentative and clearly new to the experience, but as with everything else, she was a quick learner.

He didn't want to overwhelm her, being careful with her as he gave her the sweetest, most innocent and chaste kiss he'd ever given any witch. Her small hands were hot when she brought them up to rest lightly against his chest as she kissed him back, trying to figure out how to snog a bloke. Thorfinn couldn't resist nibbling her plump lower lip as he slowly pulled back before he let himself push her too far. The little squeak of surprise she emitted made him grin and when he opened his eyes, she looked like she was in a daze.

"Bloody hell, Princess," he murmured, outright grinning at her when she slowly blinked her eyes open, her hand leaving his chest to touch her lips as though they tingled.

"That... you took my first kiss," she murmured in response, her cheeks pink as she looked at him, trying to put her thoughts back in order.

"And I'm keeping it," he smirked at her.

She didn't seem to know what to say in response and Thorfinn grinned at the young witch widely before shooting her a wink.

"You got your list with you, Kitten?" he asked her curiously, fishing his own list from the depths of his pocket and smirking as he watched it glow green for a moment.

When he unfurled it, the last item on his list was ticked off, the name Hermione Granger scrawling itself across the page magically underneath the listing for his Gryffindor snog.

"Ah, shit," he groaned as the magic activated within the scroll, encircling his body and burning along his magical core. He hissed between his teeth when the magic seared against his ribcage on his right side. Hiking his shirt up, Thorfinn watched the way an insignia burned itself into his flesh. Before his eyes the mark darkened and deepened in colour, black and green and silver ink marring his gold-toned skin and taking the shape of the Hogwarts crest as seen on all of his uniforms for the length of his stay at Hogwarts. The banner across it read 'Slytherin', and at the bottom, the year appeared. The full image was roughly the size of his balled fist, all the houses represented on the crest, but all of them shaded the green and silver of his house rather than those of the emblem.

A grin grew across his face when the searing stopped and his tattoo was complete. He'd done it. He'd completed the Rites. He felt a sense of achievement, even if it was only a list of silly antics to complete to better while away the hours breaking school rules and testing the limits of what he could and could not get away with doing.

"I… you took my…. First kiss," Granger muttered, her eyes unfocused as she continued touching her lips and Thorfinn snorted at her disjointed words.

He hoped he could always make the witch that inarticulate with just a bit of snogging.

"Look, Princess," he said, nudging the girl and twisting slightly to let her see the new tattoo. Just below his pectoral muscle, it was wrought into the flesh seamlessly.

"You…" she said and Thorfinn laughed when she still sounded breathless.

"You alright there, Kitten?" he chuckled. "You're not going to swoon, are you?"

She blinked rapidly as his teasing tone, her gaze sharpening before her eyes snapped to his face.

"If mine looks like that, I'm going to be extremely angry with you, Thorfinn Rowle," she warned him, eyeing his tattoo coolly when her eyes darted down to it obediently at his gesture.

"The Slytherin bits?" he asked. "Yeah that might be a bit hard to explain to your little friends if they ever see it, eh?"

"You think?" she asked, rolling her eyes at him, "Did it hurt?"

"Bit like a burn if you touch a hot cauldron," he admitted, "Doesn't hurt now though."

She reached out tentatively and ran her hands over the mark, smoothing her dainty fingers against it and apparently feeling the magic within it.

"It feels alive," she told him. "Like it has its own magical signature that's interwoven with yours."

He nodded his head.

"Your fingers are warm," he told her when she traced the pattern idly with one hand, not at all seeming to care that he was exposing part of his form to her gaze. He supposed that once she'd seen his dick, she wasn't likely to be shocked by seeing a bit of his abs.

"So are your lips," she replied in a soft whisper.

"Still reeling, Baby-girl?"

"You can't just steal a girl's first kiss and then tease her about it, Finn," she chided him. "It's very rude. I'll never get that kiss back, you know?"

"Do you regret it?" he challenged, smirking at her. "Do you want it back?"

She tipped her head to one side, seeming to legitimately think about it.

"No," she admitted finally. "I… I'm rather pleased it was you."

"Oh?" Thorfinn chuckled, feeling smug.

"Mmm, imagine if it had been someone who wasn't a rake and so had no idea what he was doing; he'd have botched it up," she replied, looking revolted at the idea.

"So glad to be of service," he snorted. "But you should know that you'll never have a kiss like that from anyone else, Princess."

"Just from you, you think?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

"You bet your cute arse, little lioness," he winked at her. "But if you want another one you better grow up a bit more. Jail-bait's what you are right now."

She rolled her eyes at him in reply, fishing a familiar scroll from her pocket and unfurling it.

"Look at that," she sighed. "Thorfinn Rowle – Slytherin – 1992. Only three more to go and that task will be ticked off."

"Maybe hold off on the adult tasks, Princess?" he suggested. "Do something dull, like… oi, what's all this? You've already ticked a bunch of the early tasks off?"

Hermione grinned, returning her attention to the top of the scroll where a number of the tasks were, indeed, check off as complete. She stolen a library book – though she'd returned it later, claiming that she'd found it in a forgotten corner of Gryffindor Tower. She'd been into the Forbidden Forest at night. She'd smuggled something illicit through the school.

"You took a dragon through the school?" he asked doubtfully.

"Norbert," Hermione grinned at him. "Had to get him through the castle from the grounds and up to the Astronomy Tower to be smuggled out by dragon handlers."

"Break at least ten school rules," Thorfinn read on. "Bloody hell, you've already hit on breaking twenty. Just what the hell have you been doing all year, Princess?"

"Getting away with breaking the rules," she grinned at him. "You're right, Harry and Ron are trouble. And look, some of these are ticked off too."

She slid her finger down the length of the scroll to the tasks pertaining to catching a fellow student in a sexual act – his name was once again listed, along with his crime.

"Ah hell," he sighed. "You're going to have this thing done as quickly as you finish your bloody homework."

He shook his head at her.

"Promise me you'll wait until you're at least fifteen before you try any of the sexual deviant acts, yeah?" he asked, dragging a hand through his hair.

"Maybe," she shrugged. "I'll see how I feel when the time comes."

"Hell, Baby-girl," Thorfinn laughed. "Maybe giving you this thing was a mistake."

"It's a bit late for that, Finn," she replied, rolling her scroll back up and tucking it back into her pocket. He couldn't help but think that it was a bit late for taking back a lot of things between himself and this fiery little witch.