A/N: I have mapped out the rest of the story. It will run 20 chapters plus an Epilogue. Thanks for continuing to read the story.

Chapter 8

Princhek townhouse, London Friday, April 11, 2014

Andy walked into the green flame after throwing floo powder into the Charms office fireplace and stumbled out into Miranda's home. Looking down at her soot-covered robes, Andy said the word, Scourgify, while waving her wand over her body negligently. She looked up as she walked farther into the room and spotted the display of dragon statues. Smiling softly, Andy stepped over to the eight gifts, remembering the time and effort she had invested over the years, and touched a few of them reverently.

"They are works of art."

Andy swung around and found Miranda standing just inside the room. "Miranda," Andy breathed. She felt her face heat up as her mouth curved into a wide smile. She was so happy to see the older woman.

"Over the years I have marveled over the apparent intricacy of each statue and the realistic nature of the details. I wondered how someone could know dragons so intimately, and how that person had found me in the United States, where I had taken care to hide my heritage as well as my magical signature."

Andy could feel Miranda's eyes raking over her as she spoke, and she could do nothing but watch, anticipation ratcheting higher and higher as Miranda slowly moved toward her.

"More than that, though, the way they act while animated is eerily accurate. I know," Miranda asserted. "I grew up around dragons, worked with dragons—I am even able to communicate with dragons."

Andy tried not to tremble as Miranda slowly ran a finger over Andy's parted lips, her chin, the column of her throat. She swallowed convulsively as that finger stalled at her collar bone, rubbing it back and forth hypnotically.

"You can talk to dragons?" Andy asked.

"Yes. And now, apparently to magical dragon statues," Miranda whispered, her lips grazing the shell of Andy's ear enticingly. "Would you know anything about that?"

Andy turned her head to gaze into piercing eyes. "No. They talk?"

"To an extent, and not all of them." She raised an eyebrow inquisitively. "You really didn't know?"

Andy shook her head.

"Hmm. Perhaps over dinner you will reveal how you crafted them," Miranda said and leaned in to deliver a kiss.

Andy sighed, feeling something settle within her as she felt those appealing lips cover hers. Oh how she had dreamt of feeling them again! Andy moaned, opening her mouth to allow Miranda's tongue entrance. Pulling Miranda against her, Andy ran her hands down Miranda's back, stopping when a strange smell reached her nostrils. Face scrunching up in disgust, Andy pulled back.

"What is that smell?" Andy asked.

"Excuse me?" Miranda responded, obviously taken aback.

"That smell! It's…" Andy looked down and saw what Miranda was wearing. She gasped as a wave of revulsion swept through her. "What are you wearing?"

"Dragon hide," Miranda answered, sounded confused and offended.

Andy could see that Miranda was quite put off by her reaction, but she had little time to soothe Miranda's ruffled feathers. Instead, Andy hurriedly covered her mouth with a hand as she felt bile fill the back of her mouth. Her eyes stung. She had no idea why she was reacting this way, but just looking at those beautiful chocolate-colored dragon hide slacks and, Andy now noticed, matching knee-high boots was causing her to feel sick, never mind the added stimulus of smelling their distinctive scent.

"Where is your bathroom?" Andy gasped as she stumbled toward the door. Feeling herself losing control, she ran out as she heard Miranda's voice directing her to the second door on the right. She dropped to her knees, lifted the top of the toilet seat, and spewed the contents of her stomach quite forcefully into the marble bowl. After several more disgusting minutes, Andy felt her stomach begin to settle. It was then that Andy became aware of fingers running through her hair, holding it back, while a cold, wet compress rested on the back of her neck.

Mortified, Andy turned her head, looking into concerned blue eyes. "I'm okay. Sorry. I don't know what came over me," Andy said in a hoarse voice. She noticed that Miranda was on her knees next to her with no pants or boots on. She smiled sheepishly. "That was a beautiful outfit. Um, maybe I'm allergic?"

"I very much doubt that, Andrea," Miranda said dryly as she pulled Andy up. Leaning over, Miranda flushed the toilet. "Why don't you freshen up while I change?" Andy watched as, not waiting for a reply, Miranda swept from the room.

"Well, shit!" Andy said, her arms locked to brace herself against the sink. She squeezed the sides of the circular marble basin tightly as she tried to get her bearings. After some deep breaths, Andy found mouthwash and rinsed out the remainder of her regurgitation, grimacing at the taste. She made a visual sweep of her clothes to make sure the contents of her stomach had not landed on any part of her body before making her way back to the den where Miranda waited, staring pensively at the dragon statues.

"How do you feel?" Miranda asked once Andy had joined her.

"Much better," Andy answered meekly.

"You seem to have a strong affinity for dragons," Miranda commented, her penetrating eyes mesmerizing Andy.

"I, yeah, I guess. I mean, I've never really thought about it. I've never reacted that way before, though, and my parents used to wear dragon hide all the time while I was growing up." Andy grew silent as she tried to make sense of her body's reaction. She shook her head slightly, bemused. Hands slid around her waist as a well-loved chin rested on her shoulder. They stood, lost in their thoughts, for several minutes. Andy took the time to reacquaint herself with the dragon statues. Some she hadn't seen for several years, and she rejoiced in the knowledge that Miranda had liked them enough to keep them.

"Do you think you can eat dinner, or would you rather forego food?" Miranda said, her breath tickling Andy's ear, causing her to shiver.

"Oh, no. I can eat," Andy said as turned in Miranda's arms. At her raised eyebrows, Andy added, "Really. I feel fine, now." She watched as Miranda seemed to make a decision. She leaned in and brushed her lips against Andy's softly before stepping back.

"Very well," Miranda acquiesced, taking Andy's hand and pulling gently. They walked into a formal dining room where two places were set next to each other. The room was lit by several candles resting on an antique cherry wood table and floating about the room, the flames reflecting off a gorgeous crystal chandelier and several dazzling crystal goblets. Miranda released Andy's hand and took her seat at the end of the table, indicating with a head tilt for Andy to sit to her immediate right. Andy sank into a comfortable wooden straight-back chair with blood-red cushions, smiling as she noticed the casual elegance and wealth the room exhibited.

Once they were both settled, food appeared on their plates, a mouth-watering array of steak, vegetables, and salad. Andy also noticed red wine resting in one of her goblets, water in another. She smiled. "This looks wonderful. Thank you for inviting me," Andy said.

"You are quite welcome," Miranda murmured as she cut a piece of steak. Her eyes fluttered closed as she savored the first bite. "Mmm. Santie is a wonderful cook."

Andy agreed readily. The food tasted wonderful.

"How is it that I could not detect your magical signature all these years?" Miranda asked suddenly.

"I believe you did not recognize my magic for the same reasons I did not recognize yours—neither of us expected to encounter a witch, and we both cloaked our magic with disillusionment charms. Right?"

Miranda nodded slowly. "It is true that I used a number of charms to protect my identity and that of my daughters. And you are also correct that I was not expecting to interact with someone from the wizarding community. Perhaps I have become too lax while away. After all, there may be many others in my life who have magical backgrounds."

"It's possible. I learned to mask my signature while in Massachusetts. After a while, it became second nature to me," Andy said. "The McGonagall line is well-known in the wizarding community, and some would wish to harm us."

Miranda nodded thoughtfully. "I understand completely. Andrea, tell me about yourself. I can't help but believe that your résumé was severely lacking in terms of your education and life experience," Miranda said with a smirk. "Did you attend Hogwarts?"

Andy chuckled, reaching out to grab her wine. She took a large gulp. Liquid courage at its best, she mused. Glancing over, she saw Miranda's amused look and felt herself blush. Right.

"Well, yes, it does leave quite a bit out. I did not go to Hogwarts, thanks to a falling out between my aunt and my dad," Andy began.

"Minerva, you mean?" Miranda interjected.

"Yes," Andy said as she nodded. "So, I went to the Salem Witches' Institute in Massachusetts. After I graduated, I returned to Scotland and apprenticed with Filius for four years for my Charms Mastery. Then I began my animagus training with Aunt Minerva."

"You are an animagus?" Miranda gasped.

"No," Andy admitted in a small voice. "My training was interrupted by Voldemort's rise to power during the Second Wizarding War. I had nearly completed my training, though, and recently it has resumed. Aunt Minerva and Hermione believe I am very close to tapping in to my animagus form."

"What did you do when you stopped training? What year was that? Ninety-five? Ninety-six?" Miranda asked.

"Voldemort came back into power during the summer of ninety-five. That probably wouldn't have been a good enough reason to stop training, except that my parents—they were both Aurors—were killed while attempting to stop the escape of several Death Eaters from Azkaban. Leading up to that event, we had argued constantly over my mom and dad's constant pleas that I leave the country. They had wanted me to be safe. I wouldn't go, though." Andy felt tears sliding down her face and wiped them away angrily. "You would think after all this time, it wouldn't hurt so much," Andy complained in a bitter voice.

"I am so sorry, Andrea," Miranda said tenderly as cool fingers intertwined with Andy's. She stared at their hands and squeezed it. "I fought Voldmort during the First Wizarding War. I never dreamed he would return to power. By the time he did, I had lived in New York for about a decade, and Caroline and Cassidy were just babies. In addition, I had cut my ties with my family."

A grimace crossed Miranda's face, making Andy curious about Miranda's relationship with her relatives. Before she could ask, though, Miranda shook her head. Noticing the slight purse of her lips, Andy decided not to push.

"Please continue," Miranda urged.

"After my parents' deaths, and at my aunt's prompting, I returned to the States to apprentice with Lenore Cabiness for my Potions mastery. After that I went to Northwestern and then somehow got a job working for the most captivating woman I have ever met." Andy peeked at Miranda through her eyelashes after she finished talking, waiting for more questions.

"Just how old are you?" Miranda asked. "Certainly not thirty, as I had assumed."

"Nope," Andy agreed. "I am forty-one. How old are you, Miranda?" Andy fluttered her eyes as she smiled widely, teasing Miranda even as she hoped the question would be answered.

"Fifty-nine. A great deal older than you." Miranda sighed as she shifted restlessly.

"Aunt Minerva is forty-four years older than Hermione, and they have a wonderful, loving relationship. Age is only a factor if you allow it to be," Andy said firmly. She ran her thumb over Miranda's palm. "If you can feel the pull as I do, please give this a chance," Andy said softly.

"I fear I have no choice in the matter, Andrea. I have always felt the pull. Why do you think I was so upset when you disappeared?" Miranda admitted. "The possibility of never seeing you again pained me greatly. I think what happened on Monday was long in coming."

Andy smiled wickedly. "I couldn't agree more." They remained seated, holding hands as their thoughts wandered. Finally Andy dared to ask, "Why didn't you return during the second war? I know you said that your daughters were babies and that you had cut ties with your family, but there must be more to it. I mean, you fought in the first one…" She watched as Miranda's face became a blank slate, and her heart sank. Please, tell me, she begged silently.

With a loud sigh and a squeeze of Andy's hand, Miranda said quietly, "Are you aware that I can hear your thoughts?"

Andy's eyebrows flew up. "Wh-what? I thought that was a fluke, or that I was just, I don't know, imagining it."

"No. At times, your voice is very clear. I would guess that is when you are feeling quite passionate." Miranda smirked. "I have wondered how this is possible since I have been able to communicate with dragons telepathically, but not with people." She eyed Andy speculatively. "Are you telepathic?"

"No. I've never been able to talk to someone like that before," Andy said.

"I know I can trust you with what I am about to reveal, Andrea," Miranda said softly.

Nodding, Andy sat and listened while Miranda explained her abilities. "So, you can talk to dragons, serpents, snakes, reptiles—Jesus! That's unheard of," Andy exclaimed.

"As far as I know, only my family has been able to do so. Voldemort was quite intrigued. He felt our abilities coupled with his ability to speak parseltongue could tip the scales in his favor." Miranda's face twisted into a grimace. "My family, the Princhek line, used to be very powerful, one of the oldest pureblood wizard lines. They fell under Voldemort's spell, believing his propaganda about ridding the wizarding world of Mudbloods, and they became Death Eaters—my parents and two uncles. You can imagine their reaction when I married a Muggle and turned my back on magic. We moved to the States, and I left everything that I knew for love."

"Your parents must have been furious," Andy said, sympathetic to the hard choice Miranda had made. "Wait. Did you fight against your family in the first war? Were they arrested after the war? Did they die during it?" At Miranda's raised hand, Andy stopped the barrage of questions, fidgeting slightly.

"I did not fight directly against them, but I was instrumental in arranging for the capture of my parents and one of my uncles. Unfortunately, my other uncle, Theodorus Princhek, went into hiding and has remained elusive to this day. My parents died while rotting away in Azkaban, and dear Uncle Jerome died while attempting to escape."

Miranda stopped talking and stared at Andy long enough for her to wonder what the older witch was thinking. She did not want to ask, though. Instead, she took the opportunity to lose herself in dark blue eyes swimming with emotion. A cleared throat broke the tension rising between them.

"Many of my family's friends, as well as countless Death Eaters and followers of Voldemort, turned against me. I did not care since I could defend myself, but after I fell in love, I felt it best to leave. And once I gave birth, I knew I could not return. If anything ever happened to my daughters…" Miranda's blue eyes turned gray, reminding Andy of the rainy days so prevalent in Scotland. The expression was bleak, hinting at how much distress she felt when contemplating such an outcome. "One of the conditions for them to attend Hogwarts was for their surname to not be linked to Princhek. Minerva and Filius have been quite cooperative." Miranda sipped her wine before continuing. "Why didn't I return to fight Voldemort during the second war? Because I could not risk bringing my girls with me, and I could not risk losing my own life," Miranda said in a soft voice.

Gasping at the idea, Andy shook her head. "You would not have died, Miranda! You are powerful—you've said so yourself!"

"Andrea, some of the most powerful wizards and witches died during the first war, and I had no doubt the same would occur during the second one. And I was right. Many courageous, formidable people were killed—look at Albus Dumbledore, one of the most powerful wizards ever known. How could I be so arrogant as to believe I would survive, knowing that Voldemort would have sought me out if he had realized I was back?"

"He might not have found out," Andy tried but stopped when Miranda laughed mockingly.

"Really, Andrea, I know you are not that naïve. He would have known. And what if I had died? What would have happened to my girls? If they had lived with their father, they would have had to hide their magic—part of who they are. They didn't deserve that, and I could not allow for the possibility. I know what kind of life that is—I hid that part of me from their father for years—and I was determined to prevent that fate from becoming theirs. So, I turned my back on the wizarding world for the second time."

Overwhelmed by the rawness of Miranda's voice, the nearly pleading quality—asking Andy to understand, to accept why Miranda had made her choices—Andy felt compassion rise within her coupled with incredulity that Miranda was explaining herself. Explaining her choices. To her. So selfless, so noble.

A mirthless laugh broke through Andy's musings. "Hardly, Andrea. Those were the main reasons, but I also stayed in the States for less altruistic reasons. My girls were babies, I was still married—hiding that part of my life—and I was climbing up the career ladder at Runway."

"That doesn't lessen the import of your other reasons. You made a hard choice—the best choice considering the circumstances," Andy said. She allowed the new information to run through her mind, processing it quickly. "So, why return now?"

"Caroline and Cassidy are much older. They are relatively safe at Hogwarts. I am not married." And you are here.

Hearing the unvoiced reason, Andy gasped. She felt her hand squeezed. "I heard you," Andy said, amazed.

"I wondered whether it worked both ways," Miranda said. "Come with me, Andrea."

They walked back to the den silently. Andy wasn't sure what to think. What did all this mean? How were they able to hear each other's voices in their minds? Why couldn't she hear every thought Miranda had? Could she hear all of Andy's thoughts? Andy's questions stalled when they stopped in front of the dragon statue display.

Miranda tapped the emerald Romanian Longhorn with her wand. They watched as it flew around the other dragons leisurely before landing on the edge of the shelf and puffing out a ring of smoke. Andy grinned, proud of her handiwork.

"Why are dragons attacking humans?" Miranda asked. The dragon opened its maw and expelled a thin stream of fire. It tilted its head at Andy and roared plaintively.

Andy jolted when she heard Miranda's voice clearly in her mind saying, Why are dragons attacking humans? What shocked her more, though, was when a masculine voice boomed an answer.

Those who were lost are found, those who left have returned. Yet, their rightful place still must be learned.

Andy looked askance at Miranda, who did not seem surprised, just contemplative. She tapped the dragon with her wand and turned to Andy.

"Did you hear its words?" Miranda asked.

"Yes. Did you?" Andy said.

"Yes. I also heard the riddle last night, after visiting one of the attack sites. It is odd. The only statues that have provided information about the attacks are those replicas of the dragon species that were responsible for them. However, it was not until I had identified the dragon responsible for an attack that I was able to receive a message. For example, that Longhorn did not say anything two days ago when I asked it questions." Miranda stared into Andy's eyes for several moments while Andy tried to make sense of what this meant.

"I, when I created these dragons, I transformed the molecules while infusing them with powerful charms to protect you. Perhaps this is a manifestation of such protection," Andy suggested hesitantly.

"And what of your ability to speak dracotongue?" Miranda asked mildly.

"Me? I can't sp—"

"No, no." Miranda waved her fingered back and forth in front of Andy's nose. "You can. Those statues do not speak the human language, nor do they speak aloud. They speak their language, and you understood it perfectly."

Andy stared at Miranda in shock. How can this be?

"Really, Andrea. You are a smart witch. Connect the dots," Miranda said.

Andy shook her head. It should be impossible. There was no possible explanation. A hand on her shoulder redirected Andy's attention to blue eyes reflecting understanding.

"I learned a long time ago that when it comes to you, nothing is impossible. I believe your animagus form is a dragon, enabling you to speak their language and communicate with me telepathically," Miranda said.

"That's, that's absurd. An animagus form is an extension of one's personality and inner traits. What could I possibly have in common with a dragon?" Andy sputtered.

"Quite a bit, Andrea. You are intelligent, courageous, fierce, and patient. Dragons never take the offensive but do know how and will defend themselves. They have nothing to prove, and make decisions based upon what is best, not what others want or need. You, darling, have several traits that correspond to how dragons act." Miranda ran a hand through Andy's hair lovingly. "You are extraordinary."

The idea was preposterous. And exciting. Andy sighed as Miranda rested her hand on the nape of her neck and gently pulled her forward. Their lips met in a slow, intense kiss. Miranda gently moved her lips over Andy's cheek and stalled next to her ear.

"Will you stay tonight?" Miranda asked softly.

"Yes," Andy whispered, her eyes still closed from their kiss. She felt Miranda's lips smile against her throat even as her hand was grasped and tugged.

"Let me make love to you, Andrea," Miranda said in a husky voice.

"Yes," Andy whispered again and followed, a smile lighting her from the inside out.