Back after the little mini-vacay! Just a quick refresher: errors are mine. I apologize for any, and all of them. That's totally my bad.

**THANK YOU** to all the new readers and followers for joining this little tale of mine. I hope fervently that it brings you as much joy, entertainment, and vapors as it does for me to write it.

Thank you to those who have reviewed as well! I appreciate that you take time to share your thoughts, postulations and emotions on where things have gone in this journey. I would be lying if I said that knowing you are so entertained with this doesn't spur me to write more. I have no shame.

Chapter 26

The days following the swelling excitement of Lammas had passed, and the temperature of the days and nights had begun to shift in the valley of Morvan Rove where the great castle and House of the family Gresham jutted from the ground. The shadows were cooler, and the mountain air had become a little less pleasant and friendly. The sun, when it stood at the top of the sky, beat down with less mercy as well. But it was in the night times that the change was the most evident; where before windows could be left ajar to the open night to let the pleasant waves of cool in, there was now a bite of chill as soon as the sun was behind the mountains.

Even the wisps of evening clouds burned more brightly as the sun sank down around them, shooting vivid arrays of pinks and oranges across the backdrop of the pure blue behind it. The setting sun painted beautiful pictures every night as the light gradually faded out and away.

The youngest Gresham heir looked through her window to the outside, at the brilliant colors composed in the dying of the daylight, and sighed with a chuff of frustration. Though she was supposed to be reading her book, and taking notes for herself, she felt restless and irritated. Following the display that her brother had made in their first horse-mounted magical jousting, there had been building tension between him and Draco that had mounted to almost cataclysmic heights, for it had not stopped after their altercation.

Not to mention her brothers attitude to her had been anything but friendly and welcoming. Once he had declared his knowledge of her interest in the Malfoy heir, she'd been met with a constant turning of shoulder that she had never received from her barely-older brother. At first she thought him joking, and followed him out of the breakfast hall like a lost animal begging for attention. Would he would not look or speak to her unless out of strict necessity, she realized that he was punishing her for breaking her word to him. The times that he was forced to speak with her, his tones were clipped and short. There was no more jesting and joviality between them.

At first, she had been outraged, and had started intentionally ribbing and teasing him, only to discover that he would not take any of her bait. Once the realization had hit her, she had realized that he was, good and truly quite angry with her.

The reflection and weight of what she had compromised in her secreting away with Draco had cost her something she hadn't even realize she could lose. But her brother had proved every bit as stubborn as his sister, and she had been unpleasantly taken aback at how consistently he continued to snub her.

It had caused a tension that their mother had picked up on as well. Though, for reasons she could not unravel, their mother had remained silent over the issue. She granted no knowing glances, no words of admonishment; she simply left them to their own devices.

It had taken but a little more time until Hermione found herself feeling lost and adrift without the silent presence of her brother, ever at her side. Ever her closest companion. She knew in her heart what had transpired with not only a betrayal of her word to her brother –her partner in mischief and adventure, but also a treachery to her House and her family.

And yet, through all this, she continued to feel a pull from a place deep inside her that begged and pleaded with her to spirit away from her room when the light of the day was well put to rest, and to summon her young beau so that they could speak in hushed tones about the hatching that was to come, and twine their fingers together in their young affections, and their lips could reign delightful sensations upon the other. She ached every moment she had to pretend that she wasn't hopelessly and irrevocably enchanted in the notion of her young paramour.

It made matters so much harder that at so many times she had felt the disappointed longing within her, she saw the same torment writ about the gray eyes of Draco as they would gaze hungrily upon her from wherever she could spy him. They had been unable to see each other in private for weeks, and it felt like it had been a life-age! She flopped back into her bed with a huff of air and closed her eyes as she was certain she was withering slowly from within.

As she lay there in her petulant frustration, staring at the ceiling willing for something to happen, for the powers of the Gods to come crashing all around her and sweep her ails away and let a wash of peace and tranquility consume her, when there was a faint and single knock at the door.

The daughter of the Gresham House leapt up from her bed and flew to the wooden door with an excitement she'd been teetering on, and ran to throw the door open so forcefully it would strike the stone wall and be heard down the halls. Just as soon as she rushed the door, a single slip of folded paper slid beneath it and she slowed as she approached it with great speed.

She plucked it from the ground and opened it. In Draco's spikey hand there were two sentences written that made Hermione's heart soar straight up from her chest and into the very heavens themselves!

Where you told me the story of The Elder. Mid of night.

She feathered her fingers over the words with fondness, and pressed it to her kips once. Though it was something menial, she felt herself well over inside with excitement. As she scanned her rooms for a place to secret away the little note, she corrected herself resolutely as she realized that she could not keep even such a small piece of evidence that would foretell of their forbidden meeting.

She looked at it one last time, and sighed before she called her magic around her fingertips to turn the paper to ash and dust as it fell to the flood in cinders and nothingness.

Once again she sat down on her bed and looked back to the just-fading light in the sky, and tried desperately not to count the hours until she could break free of her rooms and converge with him again.

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Hours had passed by like they were days, and Hermione had flipped on through her book in a daze as though she had not even truly been reading it.

Dutifully she had drawn her curtains a few hours following the dusk, and had snuffed out all but one candle. She had even left to her mother's rooms and bade her a good night, with kisses at both cheeks. Though, interestingly, it seemed the cheeks that she kissed were warmed more than they were usually, and her mother's breathe smelled sweeter than it would normally. The daughter waved away her foolish observations, thinking herself to be paranoid or over-thinking everything constantly.

As she retreated to her rooms, she happened to pass by Tyt'o's door, and she slowed a moment until she had come to stand on the other side of the tooled wood with its iron hinges and handle, and she hesitated in her steps.

She felt conflicted, standing there with her candle and her heavy dressing attire, her hair loose and curled as she danced on her feet for a few moments before she raised her fist to the wood. But she couldn't bear to rap it on the door. The weeks of apathy and reticence to her had taken a toll on her heart, and she resented how it made her feel. Her own brother had repudiated her, and offered no token to her to make restitutions to him.

From the time they were little, and full of frolic and catastrophe, she had felt there was an inseparability between them. Something unshakable and impervious to any force known to the men of this world. And yet, he had disavowed her.

She brought her hand back down as she felt tears collecting at her eyes. They were hot like molten gold and she roiled inside in a rage that they should not fall, that she should give him none of her tears! But yet, they fell, and she turned to continue on back to her rooms without another hesitation. She swiped indelicately with the back of her hand, struggling to try to fight them back.

As night had settled later, and she had long since sat in darkness counting the sands until she could silently prowl from her room. Hermione dressed herself simply and in something that would not rustle. She chose breeches of a soft cloth and a linen shirt and heavier jerkin to cover her top. The air of her room was cold as she dressed, but she did so quickly and settled into her most worn low boots that had the softest sole on them; perfect for noiseless sauntering through a darkened castle.

The House staff had all found themselves to their quarters and their family wings, and Hermione left her room with no noise that was detectable. She silently padded down stairs, and halls, carefully checking corners and holding her breath as still as possible as she travelled her path.

Her journey was slower in her prowl than it would be if she were able to ignore the need for her silence, but she hastened as best she could. The last passages until she reached the great cathedral-like sanctuary where the Dragons had roosted were darker than the night itself. The young lady very cautiously conjured a small bulb of light that illuminated only a foot in front of her as she carefully trekked down the final stair and into the chilled air beneath the castle.

The earth was soft beneath her feet, and smelled of the outside air; both sharp to the nostril and with the fairest hint that the colds of winter were on a horizon not far away.

She heard a sharp breath inward beside her to her left, and her heart leapt into her throat as she spun to face it, only to be met with masculine hands at her shoulders and a wan smile on the face of her flame. She smiled brightly, and the spell she had used to illuminate her journey faded with her concentration. She all but leapt into his arms, and he wrapped her in his embrace as they held each other without speaking. Their bodies warm and delighting in their closeness.

He pulled away before she did, his arms moving from around her, back to her shoulders. There was a faint light that made its way into the underground cavern-like area that made it so she could see some of the outlines of his face, but did not highlight him any further. He smiled to her, and she leaned up to place a kiss on his lips, as she had longed to do for such a long time.

He smiled in a way that reminded her of someone in pain, and he gently placed his fingertips to her lips. "We haven't much time before we must away with ourselves. I will not have you presumed to be compromised." He said firmly, and she frowned.

"I don't understand Draco, why then have you summoned me here at the witching hour? Mean you not to hold me?" Hermione leaned into him still, wishing that the warmth of his body were upon her, feeling her insides call out to every fiber of him that she could possess with her embraces and her kisses, and he groaned just slightly as he held her closeness at bay.

"I have brought you here that we might lay our deceitful encounters to rest, good lady." He whispered, and she cocked her head to the side, unnerved by what she was hearing, and afraid to speak further.

"Draco-" She whispered in shock and made to place her hand to his chest, but he caught it with one of his own before she could make contact with him. He crushed his eyes closed and took a deep breath, and she felt fear pool in her abdomen.

"This game we play is a dangerous one. Our Houses oppose each other as it is. My father means to use this training as an exploit to unseat your Guild's power by bringing them these Dragons." He sighed and looked at her with pain in his face as he confessed further. "But I have no stomach for such deceit." He cupped her cheek tenderly. "Your House, though it is supposed an enemy of mine, has shown we as scions of adversary Houses nothing but courtesy and care. I cannot be the harbinger to your ruination."

Hermione felt as though the air had been kicked from her gut and she stepped back from him, her mouth slack. "Then it was true." She murmured to herself. "Tyt'o's visions of your Houses great enmity for our own was not false." She closed her eyes to the horror of her realization, and in the faintness of light Draco grimaced as he saw the facts roll through her, and she recoiled herself with a lingering soft statement. "It was no game to me."

"I cannot allow myself to use you thus in my affections." He choked out, finding that he'd begun to fight a croak in his throat where his voice faltered. "You are fair and good, and shall remain unquestionably honorable. I will not debase your further." He whispered.

His final statement snapped something for her. "Debased? Call what affections we shared a debasement?" She spoke so softly, still so much in shock that Draco felt as though his heart would break. He shook his head slowly.

"I am the one without honor here, Hermione. It falls to me to protect your virtues. Not to try and tempt you away from them."

She softened and faced him closer. "Draco," she whispered, appealing to the regrets he confessed to her. "What we have is not sullied by temptations. It is not wretched, not is it baiting of evils. It is bespoke. Filled with something wondrous," she touched his cheek. "Tender." His eyes met hers in the dark of the night that enveloped them.

"I cannot honor you by offering for you." His voice wavered. "I cannot bring you to my House as my betrothed, nor as my wife." He paused, his voice shook as he fought his tears back. "My father-" he choked finally. "You would not be safe from him." As Draco crumbled with his hands in his hair, she drew him into her arms and felt his wrap around her waist. He knelt on the earthen floor as he wept, and she too allowed her tears to take her.

She placed tender kisses to kiss crown and shushed his gasps as she rubbed his back as he poured his sorrows away.

"Be the circumstances different," She whispered into his hair as their embrace tightened, and closed her own eyes with trepidation as she mustered every ounce of her courage to formulate her question. "Would you offer for me?" He looked up to her, his cheeks moist but his eyes full of something she could not place. Tenderness, and something else.

"Aye." He said simply, and at his singular affirmation she felt herself smile slowly and widely. Though the pair were replete with so many turbulent emotions, he stood slowly to rise, allowing their embrace to encompass her while he moved upward. She now became the smaller, and he as the dominant. He brought his hand to her chin and lifted it to him so that his eyes met hers despite the lack of light in their surroundings. Their eyes had adjusted to the dusky conditions, he could that she searching him with her gaze, and he himself felt that he was lost within hers. He swallowed. "By the honor of my noble House, and by the sanctity of my magic, I would vow to protect, honor and revere you for the whole of our lives." The texture of his voice had taken on a deep and throaty quality, and she choked out an exclamation as he pressed his lips down into hers, connecting them.

Their lips remained chaste, but the pressure behind them was filled with unspoken promises, and an inferno of passion. Hermione felt her chest filling with joy she had never know the like of, and though her eyes were squeezed shut, she felt tears trickling out of them.

When they broke apart they maintained their connection with their foreheads pressed together, and he nuzzled into her, and brushed away her tears. "There will come a day hence when your tears will be born only of joy, and never from sorrow." He promised her, and she closed her eyes.

"They are born from joy now, my heart." She whispered to him, and they kissed again, smiling together as their lips danced over and over.

When they broke again, he cupped her cheeks in his palms and captured her eyes in a fixed stare which bored into her. "I have no token to bestow you as proof of my intentions, my prize," he whispered reverently, and she caught her lower lip as her heart soared then. He meant it. He truly meant it. "But I swear on the purity of our magic, and the honor of my blood, that I will find a way to claim you as my own."

His proclamation had drawn magic from his being and as the sincerity of his words settled around the pair, and she felt a tingling all though her person washing from her crown to her toes as he finished the vow. She covered her hands with his own as she held back her tears of joy.

"I shall abide as yours and yours alone, and will bequeath my heart to no one else. I pledge you my faith and patience." With her own promise, Draco could hold himself away no longer, and he crashed his lips upon hers with fervor at their promises. Their vows to each other binding them in layers of magic that wrapped the pair in layer upon layer of devotion and adoration. Their breaths and little murmurs as they kissed were the only thing audible in the darkness. Their hands touched and caressed the others cheeks and necks innocently, yet with great care.

Their intentions now clarified, they basked in the last remaining moments of their stolen time together, rocking back and forth as their bodies emulated their dancing kisses again and again beneath the cover of the surrounding night. The magic from Draco's vow to her warmed them in their grand alcove and the lingering Dragon's magic wove through the air as the pair chucked and laughed merrily through their innocent caressing.

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By candlelight in the quiet of her bedroom, Ursa looked over the letter she had received the previous week again. It was a simple missive, without affection or frill, written by a senior member of her Lord's company.

Loren had fallen ill on their return journey, and had been unable to leave Brandwell once they had reached there. There was still no danger to his life, but that the long stretch back to the valley of the mountains was not plausible for him until the next week hence. That would be this week. She'd thought.

Her Lord's trip had been planned for a fortnight, and lasted for near two moons. Lammas had come and gone, and Mabon approached in the week to come. Already the joviality had returned in the House, and wreaths of sage with thistles, acorn branches and leaves, marigold, milkweed and dried grain decorated the Great Hall.

The time was upon them now at the approaching second harvest to finish old business as the House itself readied for a period of rest, relaxation and reflection. Ursa had made designs even for a lavish celebration with all finery on display. This time there would be wine from the year previous served, and they would hold the ceremony of Mea'n Fo'mhair by offering libations of cider to the trees as they marked the aging Goddess as she passes from Mother to Crone, and her consort the God as he prepares for death and re-birth.

She felt frustration then that she knew consciously was out of place. It had seemed that the whole of this summer had gone from one bad event to another, slipping their family into territories unfamiliar to them. As a wedded couple, they had not yet settled the matters of Loren's mistreatment of her; they had been parted for longer than she could ever remember and still unable to face the topic. The inclusion of Draco and Theo had proven to be less burdensome to them emotionally than it had been politically. Of which, the ramifications were still unclear, as Loren had not sent any direct communication to over those matters.

Many things were still out of place within their family, and for their House, and at the approach of Mabon, and Ursa was in a state of disquiet within herself. In prior times of turmoil, it was the presence of the Dragons that acted as a balm for their distresses. The soothingly low hum Goldoduur would make would create a soothing vibration low in his chest as he would listen to her husband, and converse in his deep vibrating tones. His wisdom always offered once facts had been carefully considered, and information meticulously combed over. His sense of fairness and justice were a shining beacon of righteousness, both pure and lawful simultaneously.

Though they offered both companionship and counsel, they also blanketed the community with an air of safety. These long months, as treacheries and turmoil rose again and again, an air of insecurity had risen within her mind. Though, she had often shaken it from her mind as foolish and nothing more than unfounded anxiety, they were indeed more vulnerable this way.

She handled the letter further, passing her fingers over the writing. It contained no specifics about her Lord's ailment, and no information as to when he should be expected. How could she plan to herald his return, then? Would it be with open smiles and words of affection? In the months he had been absent, the Lady had found herself in a position where she had been completely and totally autonomous, for the first time in her adult life. It had afforded her freedom she had never known before. The looming knowledge that her husband's homecoming was imminent pressed down on her mind in a way she was unprepared for, and felt agitated by.

She would be remiss if she trumpeted herself regal and philosophic in her solitude. Nay, this was not the case at all. The Lady had celebrated Lammas as though she were a maid once more; smiles for everyone, dances and drink for the entirety of the night. Though, she had paid a high price for it when the dawn had broken, she knew in her heart that her actions were not shameful, and thus she repudiated the idea that she had acted unbecomingly. She had been able to oversee and respond to all communications, requests of mediation, reviewed the leases of vassal families, as well as managed and settled account. She had tallied grain and food stores, oversaw the constructing of the wyrm nursery, and even managed to attend the Horse Master, Eachan, with some preliminary planning he had designed on some of their more important breeding pairs.

Conclusively, Ursa's months had not been idle while Loren had been in apparent convalescence. The woman had never felt more fulfilled in her duties and life than she did these days. Now, her Lord's return impending, it would mark a return to her previous dull and unstimulating duties, of which she did not look forward to.

Her sigh was long, and the breath she expelled rocked the singular flame of her sole burning candle. Placing the letter beside her bed, and gathered her quilts and fine bed coverings around her and lay back to savor the space she had claimed for herself solely in her sabbatical from the communion of matrimony. She smirked to herself as she purposefully situated herself in the very center of the bed, and waved her hand blithely to snuff out the tiny dancing flame with an indifferent wave of magic.

This time that remained as hers, and only hers, she would luxuriate in. Come what may when Loren returned, she refused to allow herself to dread it. She would weather whatever storm blew upon her, and would come to the other side stronger. Her confidence high, she closed her eyes in the dark and waited for the sands of dream to claim her.

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At first, she was unsure as to why she had woken, until the panes of the windows behind the curtain rattled gently. The force of air behind then was so great that it was as though a violent storm had approached in the earliest hours of the morning. It wasn't until Hermione realized that the potent movement of air around the castle was owed to no storm.

As her sleep-addled mind whirred, attempting to make sense of the noise that broke through the quiet, she heard a great humming. It soaked through her, gripping her to her very bones and delved into her soul, and trembled all within her.

Her slender form was up from her bedclothes like shot in the night. The panes rattled again with a thunderous force behind them. It was the sound of great wings on the air! Her body leapt from the bed, ripping away from the warmth and comfort of slumber as she darted to her windows and tore open the curtains.

Though the night was dark, and illuminated solely by the nearly full harvest moon, she witnessed a great shadow pass over the walls of the House as a great mass passed overhead. Her heart fluttered with joy as the ebb and flow of the great humming pulsated within her in an unending melody. The wing strokes from above caused the air to forcefully hit the panes of glass, causing them to rattle each time the Dragon beat them in the air.

Her words were nowhere to be found, only noises of happiness and the choking of tears could be heard from the youngest Gresham. She spun around as quickly as she had arrived and tore the door to her room ajar. Without even a dressing robe, she sprinted at full-tilt to the door of her parents rooms, across the wing of the keep entirely. She did not have to knock, for only feet from the wooden entrance, her mother had flung to door open as well. Her expression of shock and elation only seen fleetingly as she grabbed Hermione's hands and ran with her to the balcony of the chamber.

The perpetual vibrato heard from overhead was almost deafening as the thundering of wings was heard overhead. In the night sky, reflected only in the light of the waxing moon. The force of air blew their unbound hair about their shoulders, and the women clung to each other in joy as they watched in renewed awe as the massive and undulating body circled around their castle again and again, the timber of his song surrounding them and filling the emptiness that had grown so hungry within them.

They could not tear their eyes from the sight above them! The long, long months had been so harrowingly lonely with their families dearest confidant absent for such a long time. Hermione's was beside herself with relief and ecstasy at the sight she had so missed, that she buried her face into her mother's shoulder and her tears created jeweled rivers down her cheers.

From behind the pair, Tyt'o had united with them, his face following the great figure alone the sky, and he wrapped his family within the protection of his arms as his own tears joined his sisters. With a final dip of his massive wings that nearly swept the roof of the castle, the beast dipped once into the valley and began his return ascent into the sky and around the highest peak to his return journey to his mate and their nest.

As he flew away and his form grew smaller and smaller, the harmonizing of his humming faded with him and the trio was left in their cluster, alone in the last vestiges of the night.

From his greater height, Tyt'o supported both his mother and sister as they swayed, unable to contain their emotions, clutching each other in the dark with murmurs of love and assurance, and happiness at seeing their Dragon after such a stretch of absence.

The slamming of doors and wind strike against the panes of class all across the castle had roused more than just the Gresham family; from their own doorways both Theo and Draco had emerged into the common hallway and found the other standing there in confusion as the noise had finally passed.

Though Draco's slumber had come only a handful of hours prior, following his clandestine establishment of his intentions to the young Lady of the House, he found himself roused to quite a vigorous mental state, though is body spoke of needing much more repose than he had given it. His fellow ward, from the door of his own room, looked mussed and sleep-addled, but a wide and excited smile grew across his face. "Dragons!" Theo exclaimed and Draco leaned into the arch, finding that a smile to mirror Theo's had graced his face as well.

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