AN: Thank you everyone for the reviews! I PM'd as many people as I could, but those of you that didn't log in I wasn't able to respond directly to you.

Jazzygirl: Thank you for taking the time to review, and I am glad you like the story! I can definitely see what you mean; as the writer I'm more removed from how it translates on some level so I didn't consider that. However, overall, as the reader, would you want to see/read more of that same kind of stuff (obv not with these two characters, but just in an overall sense?) Let me know sometime, I hope to be able to craft a story that you all as the readers will highly enjoy.

Pgoodrichboggs; you rock my socks with your reviews! I hope my PM helped round things out a little, and I'll try to add some of that to the story as I go as well.

Grovek26: I posted my chapter before sending you a thank you, but thank you again!

On with it then!

Chapter 13

Mid-morning sun lit the little glass-paned room where Narcissa Malfoy sat quietly, eyes closed, feeling the warmth over her face. It wasn't often she took to direct sun, as she favored her fair complexion and wished to take care for it. But there were times when she felts as though the heat of the sun would warm away the very ice that threatened to form over the heart that beat deep in her chest.

She breathed deep and felt the shudder of a sob attempt to overtake her, and she fought stubbornly against it as it tried to rattle through her frame. Narcissa blatantly refused to allow her emotions to overtake her, and she breathed deeper yet again, using everything in her mind outside of her very magic to tamp down the despairing weeping that was trying to will itself out of her.

Fingering the soft, wrinkled parchment in her hands, she reminded herself that her son was alive, and he was well, and for this she would take comfort. The House of Gresham might be in the very heart of the opposition to those of The United, but it appeared that Loren Gresham's vows to keep her son safe as their families ward was held true. For that too, she was eternally thankful.

Once the Lady Malfoy had gotten herself a little more under control, and felt her breathing return to its regulated pace, she opened her eyes and looked down again on the crumpled letter that she'd still had clenched in her pale, feminine fingers. The letter had been crushed and crumpled before Lucius had un-ceremoniously dropped in into her lap, without so much as a word to her as to what it was, or news of their son. She'd hadn't been taken completely by surprise by his lack of interest in talking to her, just that his visit was so entirely abrupt: She wasn't usually so lucky.

It was an indignity unspoken around the Malfoy House of what went on behind the chamber doors of Lucius Malfoy and his wife. So many mornings she had awoken to the wide eyes of elves who had tended to her though the night once Lucius had left her, tears welling in their unusually large orbs at the sight of her waking finally, body sore and bandaged. The embarrassment that would wash over her continuously at knowing that they knew.

Narcissa darkened a moment, thinking of her husband, Lucius Malfoy. A cold, calculating and sadistic bastard among wizards is what he was. She unintentionally closed her hands around her son's letter, crushing it momentarily as she thought of her husband. The word was poison, even in her mind, and she spat upon it any chance she could. Were she but still an unmarried or betrothed girl in her own House, the ancient and noble House of Black, she would have spat on his very face.

That is, were there still a House of Black. Following the untimely death of her aunt and uncle Orion and his wife, the two remaining heirs had been scattered to the wind. Their ancestral home abandoned and their lands and people sent astray to wither work the lands or move to another fiefdom. It had never been explained to her as to which was the ultimate outcome, so she'd never known truly what had happened.

Hearing the crinkling of the paper in her hands, she realized she was ruining further the letter from her son, and released her hands. Sighing slightly, she smoothed it out on her lap, ignoring the embroidery she had put down to pick it up from the floor where Lucius had dumped it for her.

Draco's penmanship peered up from the wrinkles of the paper; perfect and concise, as she had always instructed him. She warmed inside, feeling her happiness return at this little connection she was permitted. Her happy memories coming back to her once again.

To my father the rightful Lord Lucius Malfoy,

I have reached the House of Gresham in good health and countenance, along with my compatriot Young Theodore Nott. His Lord and Ladyship show us both the utmost consideration and have endeavored to see to our comfort and well-being. They have squandered no time in provisions for instruction and we begin this day with our instructor, the Master Warlock Sirius Black.

Narcissa paused, and let out a soft gasp as she read the name. Cousin Sirius, she thought in wonderment. She'd never known, truly, what had become of him after he had been cast from the House, disowned and disgraced. Narcissa read on.

The Morvan Mountains are a sight indeed to behold; they are as wild as they are beautiful. Both the young Lord and Lady themselves have taken great interest in taking us to explore what parts we can reach.

I hope this letter finds you in good health and spirits. Please convey my love and regard to her Ladyship, my mother, Narcissa Malfoy, in that I wish her happiness and plenty through lughnasadh and mabon.

Your son,

Draco Malfoy

Narcissa considered the letter carefully. There was an unusual space between the first two paragraphs, she noted. Almost as if Draco had paused for a great length, unsure of what exactly to write. It was interesting he had noted the Morvan Mountains. Certainly, tales had reached even the gossip-filled ears of the Ladies of The Houses United of their grandeur. Definitively nothing less would be expected out of the home of Dragons, she figured.

But, in the finishing of the letter, and the aching in her breast, she admitted to herself that she herself wished she could have been with Draco in that carriage that had taken him along the vast expanse of the Gresham lands, and into those fabled tall mountains. To be free from this dark and sorrowful House. To be free of her life, as it was.

She sighed. Such dreams and musings were of no use to her, and those days of her hopeful youth were long behind her now. She shook her head regretfully and put her embroidery down from her lap, and stood to move to her writing desk. Flattening a sheet of parchment, she wrote in her perfectly formed script to her son. My Dearest son, Draco Malfoy, I am overjoyed to hear of your safe arrival to the House of Gresham….

The fireplace at the side of the hall crackled and popped, and with it brought waves of heat into the otherwise-chilled great hall of Malfoy Castle. With summer all but ended, the stone and wooden halls tended to pick up warmth slowly, and held it loosely as well. Lucius' rich robes were lined with the finest ermine pelts attainable, and he took great pleasure wrapping himself luxuriously within them.

The hall around him was lit by candles and the scant sun that appeared from the windows, and he witnessed passively as a nameless, faceless elf poured wine into his goblet from a carried decanter. The bat-eared creature looked down and away from its Lord's face in supplication, and fear.

With a gesture of his hand the elf ceased, and returned to stand at the wall where it would wait until it was summoned again. The quiet of the hall was as a calm to Lucius, and he swirled his wine before his nose lightly, taking in the aromas that permeated beneath his nose before taking a long pull. It was warm and luxurious; just as he enjoyed it. A fine enough vintage for a midday convention, certainly.

From the end of the hall, a heavy wooden door opened, and in strode the visages of Amadeus Avery, Thoros Nott, and finally the brothers Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange. Lucius Malfoy placed his goblet on the table before him and standing, straightened the hem of his coat beneath his robes, smoothing down imaginary bunches as he stood. He inclined his head and raised his arm in welcome to his table.

"Lords, I welcome you. Prithee come join me table." He requested in an aristocratic tone.

"Malfoy-" Amadeus stated without ceremony or cordiality as he approached the table, removing his gloves, as did Thoros and Rabastan and Rodolphus in kind. Each were adorned with the finest woolen robes of the softest cashmeres, in dark rich tones, and finely sewn, showcasing their finery quite plainly.

Lucius motioned to the elf again at the goblets before him as his guests seated themselves, and the little creature ducked its head and followed dutifully as the men all situated and sat accordingly. Amadeus, the self-proclaimed ringleader of their group, sat semi-straight to Lucius, leaned his elbow on the table and inward toward the table. "Straight to business, Malfoy, we've not come here to entertain your little games." Lucius sneered just slightly as he took a sip of wine.

"And lo' I was certain I wasn't expecting any little games here, Avery." He said, returning the subtle slight Avery had paid him by omitting his title. Amadeus spat and slapped his leather gloves on the top of the table.

"Don't play coy with us, Lucius!" He exclaimed hotly, pointing his finger at Lucius menacingly. "Out with it then! What then be this scheme you've sold to Lord Riddle that's got him so enamored completely on your designs then, eh?" Lucius raised his perfectly shaped blond eyebrows at the man. Avery's dark hair, sprinkled with a little gray falling slightly out from its coif.

Lucius chuckled darkly and set his goblet down calmly. "Amadeus, calm yourself. I have revealed all my designs to the Houses, as you well know." His tone was smug, but Amadeus knew better. So did Thoros, but he held himself yet and watched the scene before him like a hawk, his fierce blue eyes drilling into Lucius directly.

Rodolphus, who had hung back waiting Amadeus to finish, suddenly spoke. "You're as slippery as they come Malfoy, and at the left hand of Lord Riddle himself. With certainty you've heard him speak of his plans to move forward against The Guild?" Lucius sighed, bored with the bombardment of these power-hungry men and their incessant pecking at him. Such an annoyance they were at this moment, coming to his home to rail him with petty questions that he had no intention of answering.

Quite blessedly, he didn't have to deflect the question: At that moment, the door to the hall flew open, banging loudly on the opposite wall, causing all four guests at the table to jump and look towards the noise. With robes billowing behind him, strode the imposing figure of Lord Thomas Riddle, Lucius Malfoy immediately rode, elegantly bowing to the newcomer into their midst.

Lord Riddle's almost-black hair was swept back with simple elegance that just barely dusted the top of his outer robes. The blackness of them was dark and rich, elegantly styled but without the frivolous décor or markings such that the Lords as Lucius's table employed on their clothes. Lord Riddle was far more subtle than that. Upon his pale face was a smirk that hinted slightly at delight as he strode forward, sweeping himself around the table to stand next to where Lucius returned to his seat.

"My Lords, it seems I find you in conclave without me." The four at the table flinched, save for Lucius who buried himself deeper in his self-satisfaction. Amadeus Avery, ever the apple-polisher spoke first.

"Our deepest apologies My Lord Riddle, we were merely here in search of clues from Lord Malfoy as to how his son fares with the despot House Gresham. As does Lord Nott with the welfare of his own heir." He gestured to Thoros beside him, and Thoros all but glared at Avery. The bastard was dragging him into the spotlight to deflect, but in light of being liable for a clandestine assembly for their own yet-undisclosed gains he played along.

"Amadeus speaks true, My Lord." He supplicated, though almost through his teeth as he tried to shield his annoyance. "Both boys have sent letters home and I merely sought to compare information to ensure there was no subtle message we were missing. Perhaps warning us they were in danger." Thoros held himself very sure under the scrutinizing gaze of Lord Thomas Riddle; his dark hazel eyes bore into him like daggers as he listened, unblinking. There was some truth in what Thoros Nott had told him, that much was certain, but not the complete truth.

The Lord Riddle smiled then at Thoros Nott, quite unexpectedly. "Quite expected, Thoros." He said, and pulled himself a chair. Lucius took the liberty of waving a hand at the elf, once again, to attend to Lord Riddle's goblet.

Lord Riddle's eyes scrutinized each one of them in turn. Although he was reluctant to release his gaze from Thoros directly, as though his eyes could bore holes in Thoros's lies and out would pour the truth from within. Rabastan and Rodolphus shifted slightly in their seats, uncomfortable under the examination. "We must certainly ensure the safety of your heirs, must we not?" Lord Riddle inquired further. "We couldn't expect that their letters contain anything but the truth, now would we?"

Tom Riddle's emphasis on the word 'truth' caused it to stand out considerably. "For without truth and honesty, what would we have, gentlemen?" Tom looked from one end of the Lords to the other, using his pause in dramatic emphasis. "We would have lies, and mistrust, wouldn't we?" The four men didn't so much as nod, they only stared waiting for the Lord Riddle to reach his conclusion, waiting for his lead. "And when the Lords of our great United Houses cannot trust in each other, then we have found ourselves with a very serious problem." He drawled out the last of his statement, pointedly.

Amadeus cleared his throat and sniffed as he adjusted himself, glancing at his hands for a mere second before he supplicated to Lord Riddle. "My Lord, we are merely present today to-" Amadeus Avery was abruptly cut off with Tom Riddles hand slamming into the thick wood creating a bang that caused the table to bounce. The force of it knocked over a goblet and caused every attendant seated to jump in reaction, Lucius included.

"Be very careful with your next words, Avery." Tom warned, his eyes darkened and fixated on Amadeus's face. Tom's hand remained flat on the wood, and the five men around him could feel the tell-tale tingling of magic as it surrounded them in a show of his capability. "As it stands now, I can scarcely think of a reason not to keep going." Amadeus felt a sudden lash of pain along his spine and hissed as he bowed his back forward. Tom smiled lightly at the sight and released the spell.

Panting, Amadeus looked up and nodded his deferment to Tom and wisely kept his mouth shut. Lord Riddle pulled back his offense, and leaned back into his chair with a disturbing level of calm.

"Now that we seem to be in order, I believe you, Avery, and you Lords Lestrange, will be leaving us." The dismissal was given with neither gesture nor expression, but the three men nodded their head in acquiescence and left the table. Amadeus shakily rising just a fraction slower than either Rodolphus or Rabastan. Tom trained his eye on the trio as they exited the hall, and the door was shut behind them.

"Now, my Lords." Tom started placidly. "It comes to us to unravel the secrets of the House of the Greshams and the perpetual annoyance they present within the Guild. Lucius, what has young Draco writ to you?"

"He writes to me of his safe journey and arrival for both himself and young Theodore. He mentions nothing of the sort of training nor instruction he receives by-name, but he does inform me that but one his instructors is none other than Sir Sirius Black, appointed as a Master Warlock." Tom's brows rose.

"Has he now? And did you heed my counsel? Does our boy know that his House is bound in contract of marriage to that of Gresham?"

"I told him nothing of his contractual obligation, my lord." Lucius kept very still with his reply, unsure as to whether or not the Lord Riddle would find his answers pleasing, or not.

Tom turned to Thoros. "What news have you received of your young man, then?" Thoros took a breath in and leveled his gaze.

"He writes that he takes lessons directly with the Gresham heirs, and that the Lady of the House bid him to write me to confirm his safe passage, that they are provided comforts and luxuries befitting a guest of the House."

"Ah, the Lady Ursa Gresham." Tom said, almost softly, but scoffed subtly with the end of her name. Thoros almost blinked, thinking he'd heard wrong. Tom came to himself again. "Then all goes well, and we shall reconvene whence you receive your next letters. I bid you write them in response, tell them they are missed and treasured and that you await their news patiently. Assure them their House remains in solidarity to them."

"So it shall be done." Thoros and Lucius said together.

"What of our designs for the Houses in neutrality, My Lord?" Thoros queried.

"Ah, yes. For the House of Harben, and House of Abildgaard. I have arranged vassals to seek audience, and will require your own most noble," He paused, sliding his glance to both parties. "Persuasion. When the time presents itself, of course." Tom smiled wickedly then. "I have sent parties in search of alternative sources, should that which we seek to bring from the Gresham's along with your heirs proves unsuccessful."

Thoros caught on immediately. "You've found them then?" He was almost excited as he asked, and it must have showed on his face because Tom looked at him with a flash of rile in his expression.

"I sent trusted parties in search, to observe and report. Should it present itself then, to learn more about aligning ourselves with any factions of red Dragons that remain in these lands." He confirmed.

Red Dragons would be a coup, indeed, mused Thoros. The old writings had described them as fiercely unpleasant, and difficult to win to any cause. The acerbic lizards had all but cannibalized themselves into obliviously low numbers as it was, so to find and parlay with any one of them…. Well, that would turn the tables in their bid to tip the scales of power indeed. "Has it been considered what we might offer them, to spark their interest?" Thoros added.

Tom gestured to Thoros. "Do you have any specific notion?" Thoros smiled: He had been researching Dragon lore for several years, and had made some interesting discoveries in recent months that he had held back during the greater meetings with the fellow United Houses. He yet was certain that he was the only man who knew of the various inklings to which the Dragons leaned.

"Perhaps we exchange magics?" He offered. Lord Riddle raised his brow.

"Tell me more, then." He bade carefully. Riddle had tasked Thoros with gathering all the ancient text and tomes that contained information about Dragons, though there seemed to be little that was available to the Houses among the United. Most infuriatingly, it seemed, that the Houses of Gresham, Harben and Abildgaard were in possession of the bulk of useful information, and two of those three Houses were inaccessible to Lord Riddle as of yet.

Thoros treaded very carefully with Lord Riddle. While the powerful Lord had all but assumed himself as the head and leader of the Houses of The United, Thoros was uncertain if Riddle could lead them to true power over the opposing Guild. While Riddle's brilliance at magic was almost unparalleled, there were still some Houses yet that had subtle doubts as to whether or not Riddle's schemes could bear the fruit that men such as Thoros was interested in.

"Old lores speak of Red Dragons being taught their own magics from a young age, though of an arcane nature and never spoken of specifically. The last of their numbers shrank back from the lands of mages when the great Gold Dragons burned them out some several thousand years ago, and they have not yet returned since."

Tom Riddle nodded thoughtfully as Thoros had spoken, carefully drinking in everything. "Bring me these tomes you have uncovered Thoros, as I wish to read for myself what 'arcanes' they discuss." Thoros had suspected his materials would be called upon, but ever the step-ahead he'd tasked a copy to be made to pass along to Lord Riddle which had omitted much of the information on the magic that he wished to discover. He nodded to Lord Riddle.

"I shall have them sent presently, Sir."

Tom picked up his goblet, finally allowing himself a very mild revelry and nodded to Lucius without words. He sampled the wine delicately and replaced it onto the table. Lucius had kept himself silent as a witness. "Now tell me, Lucius, how plan you to respond to your son?" Lucius' mouth spread into a smug grin.

Stepping quietly over the stone floor of the castle, Narcissa's lovely gown whispered around her legs with delicacy. Years of practice at not being seen or heard was a talent she didn't have to work hard at; her frame was svelte and slight, and not hard to float across any floor. When her Lord husband didn't oversee to her wardrobe specifications, she often saw to it that the fabrics used were light and soft rather than silky or satin as they made more noises when she walked. Such was the subtle means she had to manipulate in her confined and cloistered life.

From down the hall, the sounds of voices filled the hall, and she automatically slipped into a near alcove to shield herself from view; the men speaking were not wholly unfamiliar, but certainly not whom she would wish to encounter without her husband present. He did dislike her being unaccompanied about the House, despite that she was its supposed mistress.

"Calculating, sly, son of a whore." Amadeus Avery snarled to the Lestrange brothers, who followed closely at his heels. Rodolphus shook his head slowly.

"It figures Riddle would take private counsel with Nott and Malfoy." Rabastan grumbled and moved his auburn hair back behind his ear. His older brother, Rodolphus interjected as though he hadn't spoken.

"Have you word from the Carrows yet after their little 'trip' for Riddle?" Rodolphus asked Avery, and Avery ascended his confirmation.

"Aye, and they have been bidden to meet with me to reveal all they have found before they travel to meet Riddle."

Their conspiring whispers were audible and mostly clear to Narcissa from where she stood. She held her breath carefully so as not to make any noises, but not to miss any information. So Riddle had sent the Carrows as though they were his own menials. She pondered this. Where would he send them, and why was this significant enough to go skulking around the Malfoy Castle in secret? Narcissa's brow scrunched up as she considered the information she'd gathered recently.

She wished briefly there was a possibility for her to have reason to travel to the Gresham House, to see everything unfolding in front of her, rather than to resort to skulking in dark corners and quickly breezing over parchment in his husbands study.

The trio of men continued in their exchange of plans and meetings together, beginning to return to their journey out of the Castle, and Narcissa allowed her breathing to return to normal. Carefully she edged out of her hidden recess and swiftly took to the stairs to the owlry.

Securing several gold pieces into a leather pouch, she motioned to a medium sized long eared owl among several larger, more imposing and elegant specimens that were kept for messages. The long ear preened at being called, and she ruffled her spotted gray, brown and white feathers happily. Her bright yellow eyes blinking intelligently in the circle of golden feathers around her face. Narcissa smiled quietly and tickled the owl.

"Hello my pretty night prowler." She whispered affectionately, cooing as she scratched gently. The owls eyes squeezed shut slightly, blinking alternately, as it leaned into her enjoying the attentions. None at the Malfoy castle were as attentive and kind as Narcissa. "Take this to the town called Brandwell at the very edges of the Gresham lands, to an Inn that hangs a sign of horse and dragon. A man will be there by the named Tanner and he will see the letters hence." She tied the pouch to one ankle, and her letters to the other.

"Go, my beauty." She bade, and the owl spread her wings and took off into the air away from the castle. Narcissa watched the owl only a moment before she returned to her rooms to return to her rooms, hoping silently that her letters reached her son as soon as possible.

AN:

lughnasadh: the first of 3 wiccan harvest festivals. The other two being mabon and Samhain. This is important in this story due to the connection of wizards/the lands/magic. This is on August 1st. This is marked in the sharing of bread and grain to symbolize the first fruits of harvest.

Mabon: Autumnal equinox. The harvest moon or feast of the ingathering. 21-24 September. A sort of pagan thanksgiving, if you will, in honor of the fruits of the earth and a recognition to share them to secure blessings throughout the coming winter months.

Samhain: a celebration of the lived of those who have passed on.