It wasn't intentional for so much time to pass between my chapters, so I hope you can extend your patience just a little more for me.

Chapter 35

From beneath the bangs of his hair, sweat had formed in beads at the hairline, and gradually begun working down his brow to the soft flurries of his eyebrows. It was his first distraction and as his focus wavered he heard a soft hiss next to him.

The trio of his fellow students and now-allies simultaneously vocalized as the magic being carefully fabricated between them wavered when Theodore's mind had strayed from the repetitious incantation, and though he had faltered, he turned himself inward and strengthened his concentration once more to bring his mind fully back into the application.

Waves of rippling energy moved all around them, generating great currents of heat and thus subtle movements in the air. The small group of them knelt all facing each other in a circle, their hands raised and close to touching as they joined their focus and magic together as both Masters Black and Mora watched on, studying their technique closely. A ceremonial circle of blessed evergreen and oak, maple, and yew branches had been lain with their ends tied together. Dirt and salt circled that as well with rose petals interspersed to build a barrier for which to contain the volatile nature of the magic conjured.

Master Black scowled as he saw Theo's facial expression tick out of his meditative lull, but for only a moment. The movement was so slight that he did not speak out to chide or mention it, but allowed the exchange of magics continued. Such a hesitation could cause the foundations of this spell to weaken. His compatriots could feel the change in the spell at Theo's change, and surged forward more force to try to bridge the gap that had begun to form. From where this reserve of power and determination had come, none of them could truly say. Their limits were pushed utterly through this exercise and as they were each pushing their cores with every fiber within them, they drove themselves ever-quicker to the brink of sheer exhaustion. But yet they urged themselves as a unit to attempt to reach a crescendo.

Feeling the combined force of his fellows cover what ground he had lost them, Theo grounded himself within his center of focus once more, and with all the power he could conjure with his magic, he rejoined the company once more to complete the spell.

From the very edge of the hall, Ursa could no longer remain seated as she watched the four students being pushed and driven so mercilessly. The show before her was one of sheer brutal exertion upon their raw magical power. From where she witnessed, the four, though kneeling, had created a wave of fire that hovered just above their circle that was so powerful it had caused the very force of their magic to burn as though it were a bonfire.

And just like a fire, little crisped particles rained down like ashes being burned of wood all around the circle, festooning the floor and landing upon their teachers as it fell. The pair of instructors watched closely as they guided the might of the spell and continuously maintained a barrier of their own magic to protect the fortress in which all the denizens of the House occupied, lest the magic cause a true fire to catch.

Ursa could not have said when she and the Lady Malfoy had managed to find themselves standing so closely together, practically clutching upon the other in their nervousness and anticipation as the spell had begun to reach levels of intensity that the women had found themselves both in awe, and in fear, yet unable to move or speak out of fear of disturbing the casters. But, in the moment she realized that, despite their families opposing political standings, and their loyalties to their Lord husbands, the Lady Malfoy and she were not wholly different. For here they stood in the face of a terrible, and yet necessary spell that was being cast by their children, and they were as nervous mother hens pacing around their chicks in fear of foxes sniffing around the coop.

At the onset of this lesson, Ursa Gresham had politely and dutifully entreated Lady Malfoy to join her to watch one of the instructions for their children. In her own formally polite manner had accepted, though the Lady remained only as friendly as strictly necessary in her acceptance, she sat politely without engaging as the two watched the Masters establish their intended lesson.

Following the Master Mora's injury and subsequent recovery following her spirit walk, the intensity and frequency of lessons and exercises had lessened. Though Sirius Black was powerful and driven, he was yet only one man. Shouldering their lessons exclusively was effort not donned easily.

As the Master Mora had regained her strength and stamina, she had seemed to slowly move away from her brooding and reserved demeanor. By no means had the pendulum of her personality swung so diametrically in the opposite direction; for the woman was still quiet, and curt as a rule. But she had been seen to smile –if only slightly- and chuckle on a few occasions.

It seemed that a brush with death had opened a part of the Master to which none within this House had previously been privy. Or perhaps it was that the brush with otherworldly powers had changed how the Master perceived her surroundings. One could not be entirely certain, but speculation was popular.

But now, the Masters in tandem surmised the spell and its casters closely as they focused on the power being shared and the powers compelling it invoked. They had been joined by Loren Gresham as well to oversee the application of the magics and lend his own powers in guiding the direction of the spell, as well as protect the structure from damage.

The magic laying layer upon layers of protection over the four in hopes that, should the time ever come, an accidental expulsion of Dragon fire, would not burn incinerate the individual. Such were the precautions that newly minted Dragon riders would need when their tiny wyrms were learning to control their eruptions. The lessons learnt by the earliest Dragon riders had been passed down through the generations in hopes that those who would replace them would not have to learn from the same mistakes.

The nature of the magic they cast to accomplish this was through shared efforts and forces. Today was the first day of Yule, and a day of auspice to recognize and celebrate the rebirth of the solar god. Life beginning to return to the lands, and in the magic they shared, they invoked the blessings of all the gods to be used in this protection they cast for themselves. A great day indeed to cast such a spell with the looming deadline for the hatching drawing closer.

Ursa herself had never witnessed such a ritual, as Lady Malfoy had not either. And though this was a practice that had long been employed by the House Gresham, it had once been one of other Dragon-riding Houses as well. Though now, in the political climate which had caused such rifts between lands and Houses, it was no longer confirmed what the Houses Abildgaard or Harben practiced anymore. But for now, the intensity of the room had consumed all who were within it. The witnessing mothers and Ladies present stood tense and closely together as their breaths were held bated as they watched.

The faces of the students were furrowed and even as they murmured their incantation, the children's eyes were screwed shut tightly as they continued the remaining chants required. The Masters and Lord Gresham surrounding created a sort of triangle around the group, each with their own hands poised to lend physical control and guidance of the excess of magic that could easily threated to ignite should the lessen their assistance in containing it.

Lady Malfoy watched on at the group, so closely situated together in their present practice, she looked on as her son lent his strength and power to protect and aid his fellow riders. Such a spell was not only being blessed by the start of the marking of Yule, but the very words that the invokers uttered were vows of protection marked by the blessing of the gods of old. Power such as this was marked as some of the oldest known, and was used in such sparsity these days. Alliances such as these were so rare, as it was frequent that Houses could rarely trust truly their own supposed allies. As she bore witness then, it occurred to her that through this process, both her son and the House he would rule as the future Lord, he would forever be bound in magics to these three.

Though it had been only a handful of months since her son had been sent to this land to live and train by the designation of this House, he had grown. Not so in the notion of how far he stood from the ground, but in his stature and his build. Already on his way into manhood already, her son had left the safety and solace of their families abode with soft cheekbones and a penchant to smile with a hint of cruelty. An expression reminiscent of some she had seen her own Lord husband make.

Now, before her, knelt a man. A true man, in what seemed to be every aspect of the word. As the company of students had prepared this circle, she had watched as her son had volunteered himself eagerly to assist in the establishment as blessings were called and offerings prepared. He'd shown no hesitations, nor pretenses about his station or position within the dynamic between the four of them. It showed him to be comfortable with each of his fellows, and without suspicion that he should guard himself.

And the girl. Lady Malfoy had considered her quite carefully as she absorbed the scene before her while the incantation had begun. She, as it turned out, was something quite special indeed. Though, as far as Lady Malfoy had first been impressed upon, the girl was attractive enough to be considered above average, one at least could argue that. But it was how she conducted herself that was so special. This young lady showed no fear in asserting herself as powerfully as if she were a man, but too much as though she were herself a Lord. She neither demurred nor simpered in any way. If she spoke to you; she looked you in the face and at your eyes. On the occasions she had been privy, the young lady had spoken her mind rather than bitten her tongue.

She was neither subtle, nor gentile. A lady her age would have already refined herself with an effortless grace of poise and finesse. A practiced veneer which she would wear all her life as she looked forward to impressing her virtues upon a future suitor in the hopes that she should become his wife and Lady. Though instead she was arguing the merits of their placement within a Calling Circle to best invoke the spiritual magics of the Gods in equal exchange with young men who would one day be Lords of their own lands and architects of their own destinies.

As she pondered those observations it occurred to Lady Malfoy that in the circumstances in which the young Gresham lady found herself, it was clear such a burden had never been placed upon her. Nor any notion of feminine decorum was foisted upon her. If it had, the effort had not been sincere. Though certainly, she had manners, and purported her person in a dignified way. Her posture was impeccable, and she maintained her speech eloquently. Even her little colloquialisms were refined. Though she could become a bit loquacious when she veered to a topic of great passion for her, she was intelligent overall and unreservedly exploring the true depths of her own magical potential.

Though she would never speak a word of it, it caused Lady Malfoy a pang of jealously for the younger girl. Her own upbringing had been one great strictures and the ingraining of the idea that she would be obedient and come to enjoy quite thoroughly her service to her future Lord husband. Such a frivolous notion of independence would have been positively beaten from her, in a very literal manner. A woman who hailed from the great House of Black knew her place intrinsically, following a lifetime of influence and manipulation from her parents it had been difficult for even her, when she had left the home of her parents as a bride to strike then on her own and pursue her own magical education.

In all fairness, however, it had been out of simple necessity that Lady Malfoy had needed to learn and expand her magical knowledge base. First out of requirement to care for her own person, especially when her Lord Husbands tastes had begun to edge toward beastly, or even mean-spirited, as he had been on several occasion where he found her progressive absence of pregnancy displeasing.

Yes, while necessity was the mother of invention, it was, too, the very drive behind her to maintain her person, and someday the culmination of her life's efforts. And now, as she watched as her son and his compatriots delved deeper unto themselves that she had ever seen in the whole of her own sons magical training; his concentration writ plainly upon his face as the very efforts and length of the spell had begun to tax each of them in turn, yet they remained stalwart against the onslaught of the force which they had summoned and deigned to manipulate to their collective wills.

It was in this moment, though she watched apprehensively at the show before her that she was quietly assured that in time, when the hour was upon her, that her son would be powerful and fit to rule as the Heir he was meant to be.

Prior to the decision to have this spell cast presently, Loren had not put much thought into what reaction he would have seeing his children under duress while casting spells and invoking blessings of the Gods while during the Yule holiday. As he watched them now, nearly grown as they were, he found himself under a surprising amount of duress in witnessing as they wielded and controlled the spell so prematurely in their lives as magic users.

The four of them knelt before him were each strained with all of their physical and magical might to continue as they had been bade. The heat conjured magically continuously surrounded the group rising upward constantly.

The time of year was not ideal for this kind of magic, and the requirement from each participant was greater than it should have been, but need to perform it had become paramount and thus a necessity to ensure their safety.

This was not the first time this spell had been performed under this very roof, but the first he had overseen as the Lord. His own experience in conjuring the benedictio incendio was as the caster rather than supervisor.

The waves roaring upward had finally begun to die back as Masters Mora and Black slackened in their tense holds and began to draw themselves back, and Loren followed suit. With the final incantations set, the trio of overseers stepped outside of the circle drawn with bows of evergreen and conifer cones, smoothed stones and lines of dirt that had been laid down in consecration to the event. The circle had been placed around the students as a further level of protection, lest the forces conjured managed to lurch from their control.

Loren smiled with pride as the four –though particularly due to the two he had himself sired- slackened evidently. They righted themselves, some taking time to gulp down steadying breaths, some wiping the profuse sweat that had wetted their brows, and the two Heirs of the Unified Houses to grasp wrists and assist the other to stand to embrace briefly as they clamored their success.

Tyt'o glanced at his sister as she knelt still, steadying her breath, pausing longer than the other three to rise and exit the circle. For until all four of them left it, it should not be disbanded nor disturbed.

"Wren?" He whispered to her, and she nodded without turning to him.

"Aye." She acknowledged. Her copper eyes were closed as her heart beat wildly in her chest, as though she had been running for her very life. Rolling heat carried along her skin so fervently that as it did, she fantasized about stripping down her vest and shirt into her chemise, and peeling down the breeches she wore to release the trapped flames that seemed to have budded inside her body. Her brother's hand was then on her shoulder, comforting as much as seeking, as only a sibling could.

With his bare hand, even through the barrier of her clothes, he could feel the radiating incalescence the magic had imbued within her, and he drew his hand back with caution. "You burn sister." He whispered with warning, his eyes now steeped in concern. She wavered slightly, the heat growing too much for her as she struggled with the buttons of her leathers down her chest, her hand seeking his.

As they connected, she too could feel the swelter from her brother as though she had plunged her hand into scalding waters and drew it back with a hiss.

Loren watched as his children dallied within the circle still, and strode to them purposefully. "Make haste in your leave of the circle. The heat of the spell still dwells within, and the longer you stay, the hotter it will become until it consumes you." His children managed to look at each other and nodded. Tyt'o affirmed to his father that he acknowledged and grasp his sister's hands as he helped her to rise, though she faltered in her steps as he walked with her out of the circle.

The very instant they crossed the threshold, the cool of the air washed over them like an ice bath and Hermione could feel the relief coat her as the magically created heat was quenched in the air. She sighed loudly at the feeling of relief.

"Aye gods, it be hot." She bemoaned and leaned herself over to rest her flat palms across her thighs. Her brother, seeing her to safety, joined with his father in conversation at the completion of this endeavor. She felt a comforting palm stroke her back and she looked up to see that her mother had joined their group from her watchful position at the edge of the room. Her face was, as always, ever filled with warmth, but too written much with concern for her daughter. Hermione offered her a weak smile, embarrassed suddenly that her mother should take such pity. She felt a coil in her stomach of something unfamiliar, irritating. The acute fact of Draco's mother being present within the Hall, watching their progress in their spellwork, she felt weak then, and ashamed of it. She'd required the lingering assistance of her brother in front of the unfamiliar woman, and pointedly aware of the fact that since her arrival, the woman had carefully –if quietly- scrutinized her.

The young Heiress had never been so unnerved, and discomfited within her own home, and particularly at the silent examination she felt she was constantly beneath. The sensation of being watched was so great that she struggled against the inclination to hunker over and cover herself. Her higher mind kept stomping its proverbial foot, reminding her that this was her House! Her family! Her home. All she could do was present as polite a façade as possible, and try not to draw too much attention to herself.

Even now, as her mother looked to comfort her, the awareness of her own shaky countenance was so keen that she shrugged from beneath her mother's hand and glowered. Ursa's expression great pained and tinged with a little hurt as her daughter rebuffed her, but she recuperated gracefully, cupping her hands together in her signature posture.

Though the pair had finished their congratulatory exultations, Theo and Draco had simultaneously taken stock of the room around them; the sole powerhouses residing under the roof of the House of Gresham all present in the aftermath of their spellcasting practices commanded attention from the four youngling mages.

Both the Masters attended Loren Gresham in subdued conversation as they had seen to the dissipation of the lingering run-off magic that had coursed upward from the circle in which it was performed. Shockingly, Tyt'o Gresham, so normally quick to take part in those circles of communication, had uncharacteristically made his way to Theo and Draco to watch as they did from a farther vantage. The young Lords in turn greeted him thusly with nods and exchanges of familiar pleasantries.

"Draco. Theo." Tyt'o acknowledged them each with a nod, and the young Lords returned it politely. "Our success is assured, and due in no small part to yourselves. I thank you both. You have both proven dedicated to your studies and apply your skill without compunction or hesitation." The due opened up their stances to form an open circle together as the Gresham Heir spoke.

Taking up the mantle of diplomat without hesitation, Draco smiled calmly to the man he then realized would someday become his brother-in-law. Though the young Lord knew nothing of his plans to woo his younger sister yet. "A dream can't become reality without hard work." From beside him, Theo nodded his agreement.

The Heir to the seat of the Gresham House shook his head in good-natured disagreement. "A dream for my sister and myself? Aye; for all of our lives." He admitted. "For you pair, this was not your dream. This path was foisted upon you, as was the training it demands." Tyt'o glanced back to his father, and the pair of Masters who were concluding their convocation together. "The spell we have just conjured takes not solely skill to command, but too harmony amongst those who call upon it. Such a spell does not always succeed the first time." He glanced away briefly as he added. "There can be casualties."

Theo and Draco glanced at each other briefly: Their previous conspiratorial meeting had not been discussed further, and the pair had tried still to remain obsequious in the presence of the Gresham family that their united interest in dedicating themselves fully to the task as riders should not be immediately discovered, and therefore reported back to their fathers. Here too they were too exposed to discuss such a private matter with their peer to see if he would consider their interest in permanent association. The young Heir continued, however, not seeing their wordless exchange. His voice dropped further to mask his words.

"Many other families within our Guild have trained their Heirs. For many years, even. At the change in offering for the seats, many of the allied Houses felt a great rebuke in our supplanting of their own sons and daughters." His copper eyes –so alarmingly like his sisters, Draco discovered, that he straightened his body physically to remind himself of his focus on her brother, and reorder his mind from wandering to young lady he furtively sought to wed. "It bodes unwell on many fronts." He concluded, and looked to the two, in earnest. "The challenges we face still will test us further than even this, and we shall have to rely on each other greater yet before our paths reach their climax."

It was then that he offered his right hand, outstretched first to Draco, who hesitated at the hand that was extended. He took it slowly, his gray eyes meeting with Tyt'o's fiery copper ones. "It is trust that I place in the two of you that will either make us all, or break us completely." Tyt'o concluded, and similarly extended his hand to Theo, who per his usual impassive demeanor, had witnessed without speaking.

Tyt'o's meaning was clear: The hatching for which they trained was impending, and whatever remaining task the four of them had to overcome would be the greatest test they had faced in this continuous endeavor. The pair nodded to their fellow young Lord, and now-compatriot in the shaky and new solidarity he had offered the two, before he took his leave back to the conversations that were occurring between his own immediate family members.

When alone again as the pair, the seeming outsiders within the House, Theo spoke quietly to Draco without leaning in to draw attention to themselves. Though they still took speculative stock of the room separately, ensuring they were not overheard. "I assume we continue to be united in our choice of course in this?" Theo inquired.

Draco did not nod, but turned his gaze towards the Gresham's directly. Specifically, at the young Lady that had begun to take up residence within his mind, and heart. "My course is all but set." He agreed. Theo grunted lightly his acceptance.

"And what of the Lady Malfoy in this? Young Gresham has extended his own approval, but what of his father?" Draco sighed lightly, tearing his mind from the playful musings he enjoyed clandestinely when his Lady was so torturously close by.

"Of that, I am not yet certain. We have not spoken on the matter." He offered, combing his still-sweated hair behind his ear. "Our conversations remain light and superficial; I cannot confirm if she is truly the eyes and ears of my father in this House, or if she has chosen to come here for some other play."

Theodore Nott could only exhale, agreeing silently. Such was a reality within the Noble Houses when pertained to parents and child; there was not truly any way to determine what manner of leaning was occurring. And when one felt assured that the tides were pulling one direction, it could very easily veer off course entirely still. "You may not be my brother in blood, Draco, but you are my brother in conscious and now by magic we are bound." He placed his hand on Draco's shoulder. "No matter what the outcome will be of our time here, I will pledge to you my help in what will need to be done." Draco was taken back slightly by Theo's proclamation of unity, though not discomforted by it in the least. He smiled and placed his own hand similarly on Theo's shoulder to return the sentiment.

"And I yours, brother." Theo produced a rare smile in response to this, his compatriot now truly his friend and ally. "We will forge a new path of our own then. United, together, for our futures."

"Aye."

From across the Hall from where she had sat, Narcissa could feel the corners of her mouth aching to pull upward in a smile. Though she fought against the compulsion strenuously, hoping to maintain her air of constant indifference. But truly, it was not factual that she were made of stone, and in her spying of the sentiments being exchange with her son –and now what seemed to be his friends, she felt herself experiencing happiness for which she was uncertain of what to do.

For so long in her life had the years, and the possibilities seemed so bleak, and her list of allies so unbelievably small. What she saw before her warmed her as she had forgotten she could be. Her son was making allies. Ones that would see him through the trials that lay before him. They were not won with intimidation, nor shows of overt power, or blackmail. They were being forged through overcoming adversities together, and sharing strength and knowledge. Idealistic, certainly, but for such a young age, that they were present and available was a good sign. These could be allies for him as she shaped their futures together, she hoped.

Lost in her observation of the aftermath of the ceremony, the Lady had not noticed that beside her had come to stand one of her son's instructors. One Master Mora, who, presently, had situated herself shoulder-to-shoulder with the woman.

Narcissa's winter gowns and over cloaks while under the House of Malfoy had traditionally been made of dark shades and subdued cuts. She presented herself with subtle elegances and demure presentations to keep questioning minds away from her person. Never to draw attention to herself. But here, in the presence of a rivaled House, she had brought with her a covert cache of gowns that she had secretly been building before she had left her husband's House. Today she wore one of a dark royal blue with embroideries in golds that nearly bordered on orange. The liveliness of them accentuated her light blond hair so magnificently. From beside her, Rune Mora smirked as Lady Malfoy took no notice of her approach.

"Are you pleased then, with the outcome?" She questioned, striking Narcissa from her reverie. The Lady all but sputtered as her composure was broken when a jolt had coursed through her body. The Master stifled a grin and a chuckle, seeing she had unraveled the Lady.

Narcissa righted her composure at once, not daring to show the stranger how she had been surprised, and how that then challenged her unflappably indifferent disposition. "I understand the spell was a necessary precaution in light of what it will protect against. I gather then that it was successful?" She played her tone off as though nothing had been amiss, and Mora could all but keep from grinning further, finding that the woman she stood before was entirely more intriguing up close, than she had been from far away.

Rune Mora had come to stand so close to Narcissa's shoulder, that she found herself discomfited by the unexpected closeness. Being a Lady as she was, there was a small number of people who were permitted by propriety to be so physically close to her. This woman was not within that circle of people.

Glancing at her politely, Narcissa took in first that the woman next to her was one of the Masters instructing the four students. Her brown hair was bound behind her head, and unless she chose to gawk openly, Narcissa only momentarily took stock of the woman's blue eyes. Not a color such as her own, which were light and brilliant, but muddled with something that might be a tone of gray. Politely glancing away again, Narcissa tried not to shift uncomfortably.

Rune Mora, however, was not so polite as she, and continued to look at Narcissa. "A very necessary spell indeed." She agreed with the Lady. "Any protection against the possibility of having the skin seared from your body whist you die in slow agony, I could imagine would benefit greatly."

Involuntarily, the ghastly imagery cause Narcissa's beautiful face to grimace. Though even in that expression, Rune found that her beautiful and fine features remained quite pleasing. Rune Mora chuckled lightly. "Many find that my attitude is not aligned well with that of the aristocracy, my Lady. I apologize for my offence."

"As well you should." Narcissa agreed, leaving no quarter behind.

"But not the imagery." Narcissa whipped her head back to Rune once more, surprised by the added cheek. The instructor, though minutely, edged closer to the Lady. "Such realities for the Dragon Guild are terrifyingly true. When the younglings' fire first comes, many a rider has suffered burns." Seeing an uncontrolled horror and displeasure creep to Narcissa's expression spurred her on. "Assuming that they manage not to anger the Dragon Sires at some stage in their pilgrimage to the nest."

The two women stood facing each other, as Rune had hoped she would. Narcissa's eyes blazed with disbelief at her brashness, and Rune found herself verily enjoying seeing the Lady finally pulled out of her shell of complete disassociation from her surroundings. She was like a beautiful doll all the time; poised, perfect, and utterly unmoved by anything surrounding her. As though she was made of the most beautiful glass.

Lady Narcissa found that her long fuse had reached its terminus. "The Lord Gresham will see to it that each student is properly protected in turn. The Sons of the United are here as guests, and are to be provided the same protections as his own Heirs in this endeavor." She seethed. Rune Mora smirked as the Lady unwound herself so, and she reached out to her hand as Narcissa finished.

"Aye, which he shall." She purred as she entered closer into the personal space, which Narcissa was then painfully aware had been breached. The woman's similar height allowed her to see her eyes for what they were, which was blue and piercing into her own. She shifted her weight slightly as she felt the warm fingers trace slowly up to her wrist, daring Narcissa to look down, and look away.

Rune's eyes refused to break from hers, and yet Narcissa refused to be the first to glance away. Like it was some kind of competition they were in to see who would break first. She was so close that Narcissa could smell her now. The smell of cinder, and some kind of spice she could not name, but vaguely called to mind something masculine, and oddly attractive. "They will be well protected, Lady." Rune nearly whispered, her breath carrying to Narcissa the scent of cinnamon that carried on with the alarmingly compelling aroma that was exclusive to Rune herself.

Narcissa nodded hesitantly; The Master had breached her perimeter so carefully that she had no way out without drawing attention to herself. She noted then that she had been cornered with Rune's brash statement, and reacted just as Rune had wanted her to, and had turned to face her so Rune could close in. In the periphery of her vision, she noted that Rune was wider than she was. Stocky, one would consider it. Not so much as a man, but more so than such as she was with certainty. The fingertips which had played gently along the back of her skin had caused the fine baby hairs that lived on her arms to stand at attention, shivers moving over her shoulders and up her neck.

The minute jerk of her arm, and Rune withdrew her hand and her eyes grew speculative. "My apologies for offence, Lady." She said with unexpected politeness. "Perhaps I had the wrong impression of you."

Narcissa desperately wanted to smooth the skin at the back of her hand, to calm the sensation that still faded gradually, but utterly refused to show any sort of reaction in the face of a near-stranger. "And what impression would that be, precisely?" Rune raised a dark eyebrow, and her expression grew playful.

"I don't need to speak it aloud for you to know what I mean, good Lady." Before Narcissa could object, the Master bowed to her dutifully and bid herself leave without another word. The Lady Malfoy watched as she left, the length of her hair –nearly to her waist, swished behind her in her masculine garb and determined pace.

The back of her hand still tingled, and Narcissa winced at what she felt, for it was the first time in her life she had ever felt something like that.