AN: Shout out to pgoodrichboggs & Govek26 for your reviews! I sincerely appreciate you taking time to review!

Since everyone waited so long between chaps 9 & 10, I worked EXTRA hard on pumping this one out for you. Hope everyone has fun reading it!

Chapter 11

When Ursa returned to the Great Hall, it was following Sirius Black, and far enough away that their recent closeness still clung to her fingertips. How strange it was in her moment of panic that he had listened to her without interruption, and heeded her words.

Her fingers still felt warm, and tingled slightly as she rubbed them together beneath the long sleeves of her gown. She closed her eyes for longer than a mere pause and reminded herself of her place; as the Lady of the House, and the Wife of her Lord. She banished everything else lingering there within the dark corners of her mind and focused.

Ever-perceptive, Tyt'o Gresham saw his mother's face as she returned to the Hall. Though the four students had heard nothing specific, it was clear that voices had been raised as though an argument had transpired. Her expression of worry only confirmed it for him. "Mother, is everything well?" Tyt'o inquired, and he held his elbow to her, offering her a connection. She smiled to him.

"Yes, my son. All is well." She looped her arm through his and rested her free palm to his as well to cement her words, but Tyt'o knew better. Her bronze eyes shone with tears shed, and her dark lashes were dewed together below her lower lid, the wet of tears still lingering there like morning dew. She'd taken care to wipe them away, but this young man knew better.

Hermione, oblivious as ever in the face of a lesson in magic, swept through and pulled them together. "Excellent!" She exclaimed, "Then we can proceed onward with our instruction for the day." Ursa and Tyt'o shared a smile as the youngest Gresham heir pulled them along like a weaning foal dragging at a bridle and lead.

Throughout the exchange, Draco and Theodore had neither spoken, nor been spoken to, but remained as statuaries in witness to the exchanges. Though he had written a letter already, Draco mentally wondered if he should pen an additional missive of some fashion to his father about the arrival of one Sirius Black, in specific.

In one of his many private lessons concerning the great Houses, Lucius had told him of the fall of the House Black. Traitors and cowards, he had called them. A blight to the Houses of Lords that were cast from The United and had fallen into discredit and ruin. Their House had bred insanity and instability, so it was a wonder here that the apparent scion of the House stood before him as a Master Warlock.

Draco's gray eyes darted over to Theodore, who had himself trained on Sirius with a look of unchecked contempt. Surprised, Draco bumped his shoulder into Theodore lest the other attendants of the Hall should take note. Theodore looked to Draco, and was met with the slight raising of one haughty pale brow.

Theodore shook his head just enough that Draco dropped his inquisitive expression; now was neither the time nor the place to exchange observations or information. Sirius' voice interrupted their silent repartee as he began explaining the stance that Tyt'o and Hermione were to take to practice defensives; he wasn't yet certain of the skill level of the young men attending and regarded them a moment with a glance and a scowl as he positioned Hermione and Tyt'o.

The siblings were well familiar with each other, and the spells they would choose, so it was no true challenge for either, Sirius had to admit to himself. But it was the safe option, certainly. He questioned immediately if it were wise to pair them with either young men which would undoubtedly give them the challenge they needed, but would it put them at any risk? He hadn't assessed what magics his two new pupils knew, nor how ruthless they would be in dueling the Gresham siblings.

He decided to play safe. Subterfuge was never his strong point, but he had to try to conceal as much as possible from these two, if only to determine their merit, and their mettle.

Tyt'o and Hermione stood poise, hands raised and palms facing the other at a distance of 10 paces. Their twin colored eyes focused intently upon the other as they waited for Sirius's signal to begin.

"Incipere."

Quickly, Hermione pulled her magic around her like a cloak to ensure that anything thrown at her would be glanced off. Her concentration evident on her brow, but she maintained her breath evenly and threw her spell to curve around Tyt'o like a boomerang at the back of his knees. Tyt'o pirouetted on one foot as her magic missed him and dissolved as it missed its mark, and Hermione fought the urge to throw a vulgar gesture at him. He only smirked and returned to his stance.

His sister had a brash style at times, not subtle in the slightest. It was her greatest strength as well as her weakness, and Tyt'o knew he could exploit that every time. He advanced slightly with the force of his will to toy with her a little, to bring her hackles up and tease her out, and Hermione felt his magic prickling at her shield, searching for a way in, a weak fold. She held strong, willing her shield more and more, focusing it around her as he continued to ply at her again and again without pattern.

At the first sign of relent, Hermione whipped her palm underhand in an arc with a direct hit aimed with a serious intent, but her concentration left her shield for just long enough for Tyt'o's barrage to find its target and he took it. From an angle his spell hit her from behind and struck her in the back, bringing her to one knee as she gasped in surprise and caught herself with her left hand. It had thrown her aim off and her own spell missed her brother.

He had baited her perfectly! Damn him. Hermione's expression seethed annoyance, and she refocused herself in her new position as Tyt'o struck her again and again in an onslaught of spells as he used her weakened position against her. The force of his barrage was truly powerful, and it was all Hermione could do to hold her shield around her, both hands upward to the sky as though she was shielding against the rain. Her brother had her pinned, and she could ill afford to flee, and she felt a well of panic realizing that he was going to win. She'd arrogantly let him win with her own pride in her skill.

Hermione took in a slow breath as the weight of the volley continued around her, and her brother stepped forward to advance his position further in closing his distance to concentrate his spells. She couldn't move, and she couldn't parry him like this.

Hermione closed her eyes for a moment and murmured her spell as much as she used her mind to form it; "appellem terra" she called, and felt her focus shift as she pushed her brother out from around her. She put everything into it in one last bid to drive him back and felt the force of her magic begin to lean his away. From her crouch she focused on him again, on his eyes that were the exact copy of her own and she heaved with every fiber in her body. Tyt'o stumbled backward, and in the millisecond of pause as he switched his offensive she pushed again, and he toppled over on his backside, panting.

Hermione's breath matched her brothers exactly. The exertion had been a strain to both of them as they had pitted their wills against each other, though neither was willing to do more than simply topple the other. Sirius considered the display carefully as Tyt'o brushed himself off, and offered a hand to his sister as she rose from her kneeling position and they clasp hands; the brother and sister had no true motives to push themselves as they needed to in order to refine their skills. There was no true element of surprise, no danger. Not really, anyway.

It was time to start pushing them.

"Well done to both of you." Sirius commended, and Hermione beamed back at him, glowing at the praise. Tyt'o offered a smile as well to his tutor, though felt the sting of having lost a match to his younger sister. He knew the moment he'd paused that he'd made a critical error, and under normal circumstances he wouldn't have felt such an annoyance over it. But in the presence of Draco and Theodore as he and his sister bared their magical skills, something a little more primal crept into his mind and simmered there territorially. The sudden urge to win, and win without simply besting her felt all too real to him at that moment.

Aside from the group, Ursa had taken a seat at the edge of the hall to watch and witness the four students in their displays and practices. She carefully watched the faces of her children, but also the postulation of both Draco and Theodore as they'd watched her children in their tug-of-war. With a wave of her hand and a silent request, she sent a zing of magic through the air, bidding an attendant to her to request something warm to drink as she continued on in her scrutiny.

From her vantage point, Sirius was pointing out several weaknesses Hermione had displayed, as well as Tyt'o, and provided each a correction to improve their techniques both in the defensive and offensive capacities. She watched proudly as both her children listened carefully as they received their criticism, though Hermione held one arm around her waist, and tucked her opposite elbow into her stomach as she chewed on the end of her finger. Ursa twisted her mouth in reprove as though it would carry over the air to her daughter.

An attendant arrived to her and she bade them bring her something warm and relaxing with a smile of thanks, and she returned to her observations.

Once complete with both his praise of their performance, but also his observation of their weakness and subsequent corrections to their techniques, Sirius waved Draco and Theodore over to him. "Malfoy-" he started, and Draco quirked an eyebrow at the show of distain the Warlock showed. "and Hermione-" there is was again, the arrogant bastard. He menaced mentally. "I want you two to take position. Simple structure; no drawing blood, nothing to cause any serious harm." He nodded them away. "Nott, and Tyt'o, you follow the same." And he nodded them off as well.

AS the group of them dispersed, and Theodore moved to face Tyt'o at the requisite 10 paces, he positively fumed at the Warlocks use of his last name, as though he was too disgusted to address him as the son of a great House. Black's contempt and intent was being made very clear.

He raised his palms in the customary manner, as did Tyt'o opposite him, with Hermione and Draco following suit.

Sirius paused to ensure all parties focused before he imparted "Incipere."

Immediately on the offensives, both Greshams found themselves tensing as they individually realized they were dueling an unknown skill. Hermione fought the nervousness within her, and the flickers of fear which clouded her mind. Be still, breathe. She reminded herself and brought her magic around her again, swirling it about her person closely. From across her, Draco watched as her fiery eyes were trained on his own, waiting.

He'd watched her carefully as she had stood opposite to her brother. She was cheeky, but very focused. Tyt'o had managed to outwit her, but she had muscled him out unexpectedly in the end. He was unsure of how his power would collide with hers, and decided then not to risk a battle of sheer endowment. No, he would wait her out. Bait her, and strike.

It felt like minutes had passed as they silently watched the other, and Hermione struggled to keep her focus on his whole person, and not to stray her eyes and concentration. Draco's pale hair had fallen over his forehead, and in contrast with his alabaster skin and gray eyes it left quite a striking sight before her. His lips curled achingly slowly into a faint smirk and his eyes hooded just slightly.

Hermione stared longer and realized she was entirely too focused on his face, and less so on her awareness around her, and then she felt it. The force had accumulated around her quietly, settling at the borders of where her magic reached out and sucked inward. It was all she could do to spread her arms and hold it away as she noted carefully his sleight of hand.

Facing off to the side, Tyt'o pushed forward in an aggressive display that was wholly uncharacteristic of his normal style. He'd elected for subtlety before with his sister, but that primal urge that had appeared in his mind had begun pushing out into his mind. More, more, MORE. It intoned in him, and he pressed across the divide at Theodore.

Theodores dark hair brushed backward as he held out as long as he could, murmuring an incantation as he felt sweat beading above his brows. He felt his feet slide backward along the floor as the sheer force of Tyt'o offensive physically moved him backward. Theodore attempted to sink his body and magic into the floor surrounding him, but Tyt'o was unrelenting. His fair tawny hair fell in pieces, framing his face as the movement of his magic make the air swirl around him. Determination and focus were all he could see, and Theodore reached further within to reach out and confound his opponent.

It was then that Tyt'o saw it, he saw Theodore as he attempted to grasp at anything possible to throw at Tyt'o to pause him for long enough to create his own offensive spell work. Never breaking the force as he pushed further, Tyt'o called from deep within his core in a whirl of energy and he focused it at Theodore as he heaved it toward his opponent.

The brunt of the magic caught Theodore head-on, and sent him flying backward along the stone flor. From the distance Ursa sat at, she stood without meaning to as she watched the culmination of the duel before her.

Undisturbed from their battle of wills, Hermione forced her arms up and around her body as she fought off Draco's surrounding magic. Like a flock of birds it coursed around her, just out of reach from the barrier she had created around her, pecking at her in random places, testing her boundaries. She held herself steady, trying to outlast him as he pursued her and tightened the circle around her slowly, trying to force her inward to a retreat.

Through her protection, she sent out electrifying forces in dagger-like shapes to tear at the perpetually circling magical display that threatened to clench around her like the body of a great serpent, and they hit their mark accordingly, and further carried back along the currents of his magic like a salmon swimming upstream to land a direct hit.

Draco staggered a moment, not even realizing what she had done. As he had, Hermione prepared to create her own opposition when Sirius raised his hands to the remaining participants. "Enough now, both of you rest." The pair pulled back and straightened, each feeling a little bit of chastisement from their tutor.

Under normal circumstances Hermione would have felt the thrill of another duel; she loved the excitement and the anticipation. But in this case she felt herself unnerved and exposed. Draco's spell as it had squeezed in around her had been frightening. She looked back at Draco as he straightened himself, righting his doublet and vest over his breeches. The little smirk that had painted his face in the beginning of their duel was long-gone, replaced instead with what she thought looked to be a thoughtful expression.

For his part, Draco was intrigued at the brief tête-à-tête he'd shared with Hermione as he'd cast his spell not only to surround her, but to start probing her magic a better feel for it. In those brief moments he'd felt something a little familiar, like he'd been touched by her spellcasting before. He was certain that this was impossible, seeing as how they'd never used their magics in the presences of the other to this point. Her eyes had met his and held them briefly, and though they were both matched well in this bout, a pleasant shiver washed over his skin as the remainder of her magic had retreated. He turned one end of his lips up so slightly he doubted she'd notice.

It didn't escape Hermione, and she looked away with a scowl. She found herself immediately at odds.

Sirius dutifully reached his hand to Theodore, who was starting daggers at the man leaning over him. Sirius rolled his eyes. "Stow your annoyance, boy. You'll have another chance yet." Theodore brushed off his backside, glowering, as Sirius continued. "Do you know where you failed?" Theodore nodded, and Sirius pressed forward, gesturing between both Tyt'o and Theodore.

Tyt'o stood proudly as he watched his opponent in counsel with Sirius. The raw virility that coursed through him was a new sensation, and he rode the high proudly; his head held high, and his arms crossed in a prideful stance.

Ursa watched her firstborn and felt conflicted within herself. Her son stood dauntless and proud still opposite his rival allowing the miasma of his magic to flavor the air with masculinity. Ursa scoffed at what she felt and scented in the air: It was the same thing Loren's Dragon had begun performing when his mate had begun her estrus. And here her son stood, strutting his triumph like a rutting bull Dragon over a female. Ursa blinked slowly and wrapped her hands more closely around the earthen chalice filled with herbed tea she had been brought. The warmth kept her delicate fingers warm in the cool Hall. Though the hearth crackled with a warm fire, the stone and wood did not hold heat as well. This was a place where warmth was brought by the bodies that reveled in it. As she sipped quietly watching all four participants, she focused on Theodore. Dutiful, quiet, kind Theodore.

The matriarch of the House felt a pang in her heart as she watched Sirius chide him deeply, marking specific points in his match with her son where he had failed. How the suggestions of the failure progressively marked upon his face, setting his expression of concern deeper the longer Sirius went on.

It occurred to her just then that the possibility of failure might not have been something Theodore was raised to cope with. Not at all. As she watched him further, she noted that his posture had moved from one of upset and angry, to one that was shameful and almost fearful.

She knew those reactions, and knew them well. The schooling Theodore had received had been accompanied with some form of punishment when he failed to excel, that much became clear. But something else pulled at her as she watched Sirius turn away from him in frustration as he instructed Draco and Tyt'o to pair up together, unwilling to pit Theodore with her daughter after his defeat.

Though Ursa liked Sirius Black on the whole; he was a persistent and inventive instructor, she felt bathed with indignation at the abject humiliation of Theodore's loss in the duel. What was the point instruction if not to fortify a pupil with knowledge, experience, and support? Theodore had slumped as he watched his fellow outsider pair up with the now-priggish Tyt'o as they took their stances and prepared their face off.

Ursa was growing more furious by the second as she watched the display before her. She had little doubt that Tyt'o spectacular win would embolden him to reach for new heights and another success; truthfully this turn of events had resulted in the introduction of some real competition for him in his life, the likes of which they really had lacked. Facing off in to practice your spell work was one thing, but to have a limited supply of opponents really never challenged a person regardless.

As the two set their casts and launched into dually-chosen offensives, causing not only Sirius but Hermione and Theodore to take a little leap backward and away from the raw display before the two, Ursa formulated a notion of herself spiriting Theodore away to one of the smaller halls when she next had the chance.

As Ursa laid her private plans far away from the group, continuing in her silent observation, Draco was locked in a battle of wills with Tyt'o as the one pushed with a spell, while the other blocked and retaliated. Back and forth they danced like this over and over, pushing and pulling at the other, stumbling and sliding as the trio closest watched pensively.

Hermione chewed at the end of her thumb; her nervous habit floating to the surface as she studied each parry, each block and assault laid toward her brother. In his periphery it hadn't escaped Draco that Hermione was watching him intently. Her eyes boring into him tempted him to break his concentration and steal a glimpse of her lightly sun-sprinkled face, and her lovely eyes.

The reality of what he'd just mused really hit him, leaving him open long enough that an offensive Tyt'o had flung at him caught him hard, causing Hermione to gasp a little at the sheer ferocity of it. Draco startled further at the sudden sound of her voice, glancing slightly at Hermione only to find those eyes of hers looking decidedly not at him, but at her brother.

With a spell that classed well above where Sirius had instructed them to practice with, Tyt'o had sent an arc of magic that crackled and burned at Draco, and as he'd relinquished his concentration it had nearly found its mark, but shot past him only just, in a blaze of magic hot enough to cause flesh to sizzle.

Seeing the sudden escalation of the situation, Sirius Black raised his arms to either side at the opposing duelers. "Enough, enough!" he called, and while Draco stopped dutifully, lowering his hands and pulling his magic back to himself, Hermione watched in abject dismay as Tyt'o not only hesitated, but he cast one last time. Without hesitation, Hermione swung her right arm out in an arc throwing her magic between the two, as a lingering bit of spell shot straight towards Draco in a barrier between the two.

The result was the magic ricocheting back to Tyt'o which flung him off his feet and flat onto his back, with a loud exclamation. Sirius watched in alarm at the sight before him: Tyt'o, son of the House, had fired a cheap shot, and Sirius was furious. But furthermore, his own sister had stepped in to defend the young man he dueled.

Sirius was shaking he was so angry. "The rules of instruction are clear, Young Master Gresham," he started, lowering his hands and turning toward Tyt'o. "So what in Hell do you think you're doing?"

Tyt'o felt a hot flame over his face as he flushed, powered with the flow of magic and the heat of the clash which had only just receded. Both Theodore and Hermione stood by, struck that Tyt'o had so blatantly and aggressively broken the rules. Even from across the Hall, Ursa sat by and watched in horror as her son swept himself up wearing not only a scowl, but daring to throw contempt back at Sirius. She was mortified at the scene in front of her.

Tyt'o raised himself from the floor, never having taken his eyes from Draco. He wasn't even listening to his teacher, he was incensed and ready for another round.

Sirius came at him purposefully, grabbing his shoulder with a jerk. "Are you listening to me, Tyt'o?!" Sirius was nearly eye-to-eye with him, his storming gray eyes and fierce expression conveying his fury plainly and Tyt'o broke his glare at Draco.

"Yes, Master Black." Tyt'o conceded, and Sirius lessened his grip a bit, seeing his pupil return a little to himself.

"What in blazes do you think you were doing, Tyt'o?" He repeated fiercely. Tyt'o just shook his head and looked at his sister. Hermione stood in complete shock. She hadn't even considered what she was going; she'd just acted. Tyt'o had gone too far, and Draco would have been harmed.

The newness to their House as wards aside, the House of Gresham was not one to engage in treachery, and these two young men were still the guests of their father, and their care was still the responsibility of ALL of the House. Circumstances be damned, as far as Hermione was concerned. She wore a positively disgusted expression directed at her brother, and it caused him to flinch.

Draco looked on at the power struggle between student and Master, but inside all he could think was 'she defended me. She defended me.' And try as Draco might, he found he couldn't stop watching her. The utter shock of what had happened was unthinkable. She's the daughter of an enemy House, and she defended me. Sworn enemies of the Houses of The United, and she defended me against her own brother. Draco gaped in awe as he watched the scene before him, but only Hermione remained in focus for him. Her brown curls, normally secured at the back of her neck, were free and cascaded beautifully down her back, and her fierce and fiery eyes were lit aflame as she watched the reprimand of her brother.

His reverie was broken suddenly when he felt a hand clap lightly on his left shoulder. Theodore had moved to his side. "Are you well, Draco?" Looking at his companion, yet not friend, he nodded. Theodore's face had paled slightly. "Best watch for that one, next time." Draco looked back at Tyt'o and Sirius, shaking his head slowly.

"Indeed I will." He agreed and Theodore removed his hand from Draco's person.

Realizing what a disaster had occurred before her, Ursa had had to fight herself at every second not to intervene, though every fiber in her body had screamed for her to rush over, to stop the needlessness of it. It would have done no good to undermine Sirius' authority as the Master in this, and she knew that well. But that didn't mean she wasn't warring within herself, standing there like a child wordlessly moving her mouth.

Coming back to herself, and seeing that she hadn't quite made herself a fool, Ursa excused herself without mention, and left the Great Hall. She had to speak to Loren straight-away.

As she walked through the doorway out into the halls outside, she paused and looked back in, taking one last look at Theodore, who had moved to speak to Draco as Sirius had been tearing into Tyt'o with Hermione looking on pensively. Theodore's back was to her, but she held her earlier intentions steadfast. She would approach him later and ascertain if he would accept her overture. She smiled just a little then at him and turned to leave in earnest.

The little pang she had felt so keenly in the first years after the birth of Hermione when she remembered that this would be her last hand to guide, had returned within her. With a whimsy she kept entirely to herself she mused a moment at what a blessing it would be to be disposed another child for her House and she smiled as a child would as she travelled quickly to the stairs that would lead her along the way to Loren's personal study.

Her childish musings and meanderings were nothing more than that; frivolous illusion. She knew that well, and tamped her reverie back into her mind.

What Ursa had not seen was that Theodore had turned as she had left, and realized she had borne witness to his disgrace at the triumph of her son, and he felt shame. Shame as he'd never felt in the face of his own father, the powerful and diligent Thoros Nott.

To his absolute horror, the tingling of moisture filled the rims of his eyes, and he found himself fighting back at the tears that were clawing to free themselves from him. Blinking hard and wiping his brow he fought them away before anyone had a chance to notice.

AN, post -

Incipere – Latin; Begin.