December 31, 1997 – January 1, 1998

Being up in the lesser used rooms of Thornell was always a bit of an adventure. Callum was having a lovely time leaping from portrait to portrait, peering into random holes in trees, taking sudden swims with the Loch Ness Monster and coyly, silently, teasing a stern portrait of some ancestor of mine who served in the Ministry of Magic as Lucinda and I made our way through old artifacts of the Ainsley ancestry. It was a massive collection of, to my eyes, miscellaneous junk, but Lucinda had been pointing out various items and stating a bit about their history as we searched for the one specific thing Lucinda wanted from the room.

"Have I told you about our family history?" Lucinda asked as she flicked her wand to summon an old book from a nearby shelf.

I sneezed from the upcoming dust in response. "No, not too much. You told me enough to not get murdered or fired."

"Hm, best to remedy that. They may dig this up anyway and I know we share a dislike of surprises." Lucinda cracked open the old book that had landed in her hands and motioned me over. "Come meet the other ancestors."

I moved closer to Lucinda, flicking my wand at the nearby window to clear it of dust and move the curtains aside to let in the streams of light.

Today, our quest was to find final decorations for the New Year's party Lucinda was being forced to host. There was a need to prove the age and power of the Ainsley bloodline and Lucinda had enlisted me to help her look for some very specific pieces of family history that were worth displaying. I was intrigued by the notion of seeing some of the rooms upstairs that Lucinda had not cleared out and it had not taken much convincing on my part.

The page Lucinda had opened to showed a beautiful painting of a woman with dark wild hair and a large cauldron before her. Her clothes were old, a flowing dress with an elaborate design that looked like feathers and wings that draped around her frame with a glossy sheen from the paint as she moved about.

"That's the artistic interpretation," Lucinda rolled her eyes and turned the page. "The reality was a bit more complicated."

The next pictures showed a young man observing the land before him as he shifted his weight in thought at the world before him. I recognized those gently sloping hills. This was Thornell, or the land it was built on in any case, there was no sign of the imposing manor house yet.

"This family is, per the accounts of my father, descended from one of the daughters of Morrigan."

"Huh?"

"It's codswallop."

"Please explain."

"Morrigan was a powerful sorceress who had three daughters, one had no children, despite claims from those desperate for ancient bloodlines. Another daughter married into the Sayre wizarding family; I believe you are familiar with that story- the wizarding Sayres died out long ago." Lucinda rolled her eyes, the grey of them looking a shade closer to blue in the shadows. "My father claimed that the Ainsley's were direct descendants of the final daughter, a claim that has no basis in fact."

"I don't know a lot about Morrigan."

"She was an animagus who could turn into a crow. Brilliant potion maker. Healer. Duellist. Powerful. Feared. I get the impression she wanted to live alone in the woods and not be bothered."

Wise woman.

"In any case, it's not much to brag about. Since this family is so good at marriage connections, there are many families who can claim the same connections we can, but we have a tapestry, somewhere, which makes us look better to the insecure." Lucinda paused for a moment, a thoughtful furrow in her brow. "I suspect my father wanted something more... ostentatious than the truth."

"The truth?"

Lucinda showed me more pages, flipping forward several generations to explain what she knew of these many ancestors, one had barely escaped being murdered by witch hunters. Another had been prominent in the formation of the precursor to the Ministry of Magic. Lucinda stopped suddenly, flipping back to a page near the front of the book, "You'll find this interesting."

Rahgnall Ainsley.

"He's the one who started building Thornell." She slid her finger over to point at the name of his wife, Hesperia Gaunt. "The Gaunts are rumored to be descended from Salazar Slytherin, one of the Hogwarts founders." Lucinda shrugged, brushing off the affiliation as if it were a fly buzzing over her soup. "They're all dead now, the family died out years ago."

I raised an eyebrow.

"Salazar Slytherin was famous for being... Serpent-tongued."

I blinked slowly. The pieces starting to come together at what Lucinda was slowly leading too. I had heard the story of Slytherin, but I never thought I was so close to that part of history.

"The Gaunts," Lucinda scoffed, the disgust evident in her voice, "were apparently very proud of this and the family, according to the rumors I heard, still spoke it."

"What? That's insane! A whole family who can speak parseltongue?"

"Don't get excited, they were notorious purists, loved Muggle Hunting apparently. Disgusting hobby. They were bigger fans of cousin marriages than Harrow Avery could ever claim to be." Lucinda's finger tapped on Hesperia's name. "Per the story I heard, Hesperia's father, Fiechri broke ties with the Gaunts and had to flee for his life. Which is how he ended up in Scotland and married a muggle-born girl named Iona McKinley." Lucinda shook her head, "Fiechri was hiding from his relatives for the rest of his life and had a family to care for besides. Hesperia was taught at home, that's how she met Rahgnall, a nice young man with some money and a lot of land that he had just claimed, a clearing surrounded by the forest next door to the family's cottage. He was the first Ainsley, the original family name is lost to time, my understanding is that Rahgnall was running from something too." Lucinda smiled, "When Rahgnall married Hesperia, he got more land, a nice wife of an old bloodline, even if it was kept quiet, and in-laws who, by all accounts, adored him and his penchant for privacy."

"Could Hesperia...?" I struggled to get the words out, tapping my fingers on the soft leather cover of the book anxiously. "Could she talk to snakes too?"

Lucinda paused for a moment, "I think so, but I think she and her father were content to let that connection to the Gaunts and Slytherin's bloodline end with them. I have my suspicions about their son Ninian, though I can't find any record of him being able to do so. He was a wandering Healer of some sort." Lucinda passed me the book. "Put this back when you're done. I thought it might interest you."

It did a little bit. Clearly there was some freakish behavior on both sides of the family. I still blamed Rebekah as the primary source of my propensity, but it felt lessened by the understanding of parseltongue being a part of my mother's family as well, even if I believed it was too far back in the family to have any real impact on me.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

Lucinda took a deep breath, smoothing strands of her steely grey hair from her face. "What good would it have done you? I have nothing in this house to teach you the craft." Lucinda took a deep breath, smoothing strands of her steely grey hair from her face. "To be a descendent of Slytherin is more of a mark against you than a help. You've noticed what they said about the Potter boy and the Gaunts were completely insane by the time they all died out – Morfin was the last and he rotted away in Azkaban for slaughtering a Muggle family. To possess a serpent tongue would have marked you a dark witch, you would have become a rallying point for supporters of You-Know-Who who wanted a figurehead." Lucinda adjusted a small glimmering box on a nearby shelf. "The insanity of the Gaunts led my father to begin his lies of Morrigan in earnest and my mother continued it after his passing – even after they died, that lie brought me safety and left me and this family above scrutiny. It secured us during the first war. No, Audrey, we're better off letting that part of the past die. If we need to hide behind lies, then maybe you'll be better off for it."

With those final words, Lucinda swished her wand to reveal an oak chest that had been carefully covered in spells of preservation. And half buried over other boxes containing various decorations, next to a case of spare wine glasses and the rest of the trunk buried under a pile of white dust sheets that had been nibbled at the corners.

"The tapestry is in there. Bring the chest down to my office on the second floor and I'll have Barry tend it while I clear a space on the wall."

"Yes Lucinda."

I had been given a lot to think about.

Oo0Oo0

Lucinda and the overall operation had been lucky so far. So many people wanted to host private, unofficial, events for prominent purists and Ministry officials that Thornell had only been asked to host for New Years – the bigger celebration that could tie social obligation in to truly weed out the disloyal. The Ministry Christmas party was more of a forced affair of proximity. There was something about the garden and the ambience of Thornell that made it an attractive cage to test the society that was being built while smaller gatherings in other places offered opportunities for young people to mix and mingle with those their elders believed to be the proper sort.

The Ministry had also locked Lucinda into hosting something in the Spring, with dates unconfirmed at present. That official scheduling had allowed Lucinda to practice drills where she hide the children in secret locations in the house or got them off the property to a temporary safe house. Tonight, it was the latter, due to my pointing out the possibilities of midnight trysts, which made Lucinda shudder and, if she were more uncouth, gag on her own disgust. Instead, she closed her eyes to nod in agreement, her lips pressed firmly together.

I knew nothing about how the peculiarities worked. I did not need to know. It had all been handled and Lucinda was so through about this sort of work that I was not concerned about any form of being compromised.

There was a lot to be said for the sort of conniving confidence that Lucinda wielded like a weapon.

She was above it all in so many ways. For a woman who had been disdainfully described to me as a bit player in pureblood society, Lucinda handled her interactions with the powerful as if she were playing chess. She knew everybody. She knew their families. Inquiring after children, grandchildren and the states of her guests' gardens while casually pointing out the signs of wealth and old power that dominated the ballroom of her estate – reminding those who dismissed the Ainsleys for their common surname that Lucinda's family could trace their magical origins to the time of Merlin.

Or so we claimed.

To further emphasise this, Lucinda had hung up the tapestry of Morrigan we had found upstairs. The tapestry was old, a little worn but the figure within moved with the confidence and certainty of being well looked after through the centuries. Enclosed within the threads was a woman with dark wild hair peering down over a battlefield. Her clothes were old, a flowing dress with an elaborate design that looked like feathers and wings that draped around her frame with a glossy sheen from the paint as she moved about. Lucinda had stated that this was an artistic interpretation, but the picture was there to clarify who she was to educated wizards.

Both an art piece worthy of discussion and a promise to our visitors of Ainsley longevity and magical connections.

My dress robes were a vibrant green tonight, lined and embroidered in gold thread with a considerate design that did very nice things for my figure. If I had to be here, I was going to be wear nice robes so I could distract myself with the vanity of it and not solely focus on the distinct stomach churning feeling of disgust when I looked around the room.

As if this stain of mud under a veneer of glossy floors and velvet robes would hide any of their sins as the guests tittered, simpered and grovelled through Lucinda's home, complimenting her décor, the gorgeous decorations and then turning to their companions to relate how far the Ainsley family had fallen in the last decades. How Lucinda had no present male heir to her beautiful home from the direct line, what changes the Averys could make to Thornell in the coming years and how I was (to their eyes) still very single.

Clearly the tapestry Lucinda found in the attic was not helping

It was how I had ended up in this situation. Cornered by men at the table containing several flutes of sparkling cider and beautiful wine glasses arranged by color and sweetness, sub sorted by vintage. Actually, Lucinda was lying about the vintage. She was keeping the very old, very good wine for us in better times. Her words were that if she had to open the doors for the purists, she did not have to share her best wine. Fourth best maybe, and only under duress.

Lucinda had always been so subtle in her jabs and offenses to people she did not like.

I recall one vase she sent to my father being shaped like an augery throwing its head back to scream or sing, it could have been either, and one was supposed to put the flowers inside of the augery's screaming maw. Despite Vanessa's best efforts to make shattering it beyond repair, or finding some way to get the vase out of the house in a way that would not imply hatred for the gift, the vase would not break and it would make a low-pitched noise when it was moved that sounded vaguely like a threat. It gave me nightmares.

The prize for the drawing tonight was one of her horrid old vases, Lucinda claimed it had magical properties for flower preservation and would refill itself with water. It also had a very judgmental face carved onto it that Lucinda had not advertised.

If I could grow up to be half as cutting as Lucinda in these situations, I will have grown up well indeed.

"Miss Graves," One of the men quickly grabbed my hand and kissed the back of it wetly, the way I always imagined kissing a fish would be like. "Always a pleasure to see you."

I did not know this man.

Instead, I just nodded politely, covering my mouth with my other hand to try and hide an awkward attempt at a smile. I just want to go home.

"Your aunt, forgive me, great-aunt, has such a lovely home-"

I let my drift as he rambled on, complimenting my great-aunt's home, her décor, the ancient connections of the Ainsley line and on and on he went.

There was a vague curiosity swirling within me about the reactions of my paramours to having parseltongues on both sides of my family. Would there be enough terror to give me peace? Or would I get far less than I already had? It was a conundrum, a question for the scale of expectations which was already unbalanced by my desire for a current peace and knowledge that the timing of explosive information was more important than anything else.

"That tapestry is astounding!" The second man cut through the first's ongoing compliments to my person – I was unsure when he had changed from Lucinda and the house.

"Yes! The thread work is stunning! Would you happen to know the guild?" The third man added, seeing an opportunity to be involved.

"Clotho's, I believe." I managed to not sound bored or as if I were giving a tour of famous landmarks.

The third man made the same noise I made when I found out one of my favorite authors had published a new book. Something between a squeal and giddy sigh. "I've never seen one in person! How in the world did she attain such a thing?"

Money. It makes the world go round.

Particularly when valuable family items are not sold to maintain an image of prestige.

"Oh, Lucinda is very well connected to various antique dealers and guild masters. I believe her great grandmother was a patron of the arts. I may have that wrong in regards to the details."

There were more murmured sounds of an acknowledged, impressive fact. My understanding was that this was how Lucinda had attained all of those ugly vases- they were both inherited and gifts from her guild connections who would give her the work of some of their students. I liked to imagine Lucinda asked specifically for the ugly ones to maintain her supply of gifts for my father.

The Ainsley family may not have had the money to buy influence and political power, but Lucinda owned Thornell in every way that truly mattered and had enough valuable connections to have a true degree of social influence.

She was one of the most dangerous women I knew.

There was a chocolate fountain with fruits to dip into a steady stream that flowed from the mouth. A continuously full table that displayed the collection of wines and another that had a variety of small sweets and little snacks. The empty glasses disappearing as soon as they were set down to be quickly replaced with clean ones full of fresh wine as musicians played slow dance music from a long-gone period that seemed to please the elderly in the crowd, who often mentioned that the good old days seemed to be returning. I noted that Umbridge was hopping about, giggling in her garish signature pink as she consorted with various high-ranking officials and Death Eaters. I could see Yaxley within arm's reach of Minister Thicknesse and wondered how much control Yaxley truly had over the Minister. I had to assume it did not take much persuasion of the imperious curse to keep the Minister in line, perhaps Thicknesse already had purist tendencies before the fall?

I could see Percy's red hair bobbing about in the crowd, he had seemingly made a friend in the older gentleman from the previous party at Thornell and they were having a nice discussion of some sort. I assumed it was nice because I caught a glimpse of Percy's genuine smile for a moment before he disappeared from view behind a wine-sipping Rookwood.

"Evening gentlemen."

Ugh. Harrow Avery.

My attention was called back to my current social group. I would much rather deal with the fish lipped strangers. They seemed less entitled to my time.

The young men around me glanced over at my cousin, quickly responding in niceties- Harrow had some power here, I just was not sure if it was his money or his newfound political influence.

Harrow reached for my hand, which I had managed to discreetly wipe on a nearby tablecloth, and bring it too his lips with a confident, arrogant sort of smile. "Miss Graves."

A cold chill shot up my arm, beginning at the place where Harrow had kissed my hand and moving through the rest of my body as if I had stepped through a ghost.

"Cousin."

Harrow's mouth twisted slightly, either at the reminder of the major point of contention regarding anything more than familial friendliness on my part, or amusement at something I was not sure I understood yet. It did not matter. Harrow was already talking, "Walk with me."

Before I could give an excuse, Harrow had smoothly bid my other suiters a quick farewell as he tucked my arm in his to walk me over to a small doorway that led out to the garden, away from the bright lights of the party, the clinking glasses and laughter that was far too enthusiastic but infused with alcohol and a sense of superiority and power.

He took me through the door before I could come up with an excuse to get away from being physically guided out of the house.

It was cold outside. A lot of snow, ice and a still chill in air that reminded me of the night I had first kissed Percy.

That seems so long ago.

Harrow and I did not wander too far from the house, staying near the door and against the wall of the manor to block the occasional gust of cold wind. I managed to slip my arm out of Harrow's and tried not to look as cold as I felt as I whispered a warming charm.

"I imagine you've heard the news?" His voice was polite, but held an undercurrent of pride to it that set my teeth on edge as they stopped clicking together in the cold.

I raised an eyebrow, "I've not heard much of anything these days."

That was a lie. I heard a couple of different things.

There was a smugness in Harrow, it was all over his face and in the upturned corners of his mouth that he was unable to hide. "My family has been in talks with our solicitor, Algernon Havemeyer, I'm sure you've heard of him."

Yes, I remembered him from a previous party where I had proposed that the Purists get in touch with WandWay. Since a few weeks after that party, Havemeyer had been sending Lucinda some very official looking letters, sealed closed with a blue wax that contained his initials in fancy script delivered by an unusually aggressive owl. Lucinda would generally read the letters and then use them as kindling or let Baby Grace slobber on it – claiming that it was all the importance those letters deserved. My understanding of Havemeyer and his lawyering was that his specialty was inheritance law. Which meant I did not like him.

"Well, since your brother is nowhere to be found to contest, per the old laws that Lucinda so elegantly avoided, I am now the rightful heir to the house." Harrow's smile widened, something I had not been sure was possible until I saw it myself. "Acknowledged in full by the Ministry of Magic."

I suspected as much – I understood my place of formal standing in Lucinda's inheritance planning was coming to a close.

"Since your father was, rightfully, cleared of his charges, why are you still taking precedence?" My words had to be careful and supportive because the truth would shrink his ego and men with hurt egos were dangerous and unpredictable.

"Lucinda does get some say, but the choice of male heir from my family is the extent of it. My family does have some respect for Lucinda, how can we not after all of these years of legal manoeuvring? We are content to allow the steward of Thornell some influence over who shall care for her home."

I did not like where this was going.

"Though, Thornell is a lot for someone of advancing age to care for, even one as able as Lucinda, perhaps it's time she considered the comforts of a smaller home or perhaps allow me the opportunity to step in and learn under her tutelage."

"Lucinda is very content at Thornell." My voice was firm. "The stipulations as I understand them are that she can, and will, maintain a residence here until the end of her life."

Harrow had taken my arm again, not to lead me away, but to keep me close and off-balance in our conversation. He was making it difficult for me to do what I usually did and pretend to see a friend. I was going to have to learn to vomit on command like a vulture, I felt that would be easiest way to escape unwanted attentions.

"I think that Thornell could benefit from being run by a young couple with vision for what it could be as a social seat of power in Britain." Harrow seemed willing to ignore the little snag of Lucinda being in good health and almost abnormally spry. "The Malfoy's loss of status is tragic, for them, but it presents a real opportunity for someone with vision to fill the void left behind."

"I think Eden has a sister or a cousin who might interest you. I might be able to help arrange an introduction."

Harrow pulled me closer and I did my best to stay composed as I focused on the shape of my wand at the pocket of my robes, the handle poking out slightly to show the mother of pearl inlay that composed the handle. I could hear my wand singing quietly, I was in no immediate danger, not a physical threat, but my feelings of wariness about Harrow were warranted – even if I was not sure I could explain them.

"Eden is a lovely girl, as I'm sure the rest of her idiot ilk are," he turned to look down at me with a flirtatious sort of smile as he leaned closer to me. "But she offers so much less than you do."

Harrow was far too close to me and moving closer. I deftly half leaned; half stepped out of his range for the kiss he was so clearly going for. His lips brushed my cheek and I could only think about ways to shed my skin like a snake.

Some horrors are eternal apparently.

Before I could form the words that danced on my tongue to end this interlude, cut off the words from Harrow that I understood would be coming we were finally interrupted.

"Audrey!" Lucinda's voice came through the gloom of the night like a lifeline, her long shadow coming through the door before she emerged in all her splendour. Her glasses slid down her nose as she took in myself and my company. "Oh, Harrow, pleasure to see you." She turned her attention back to me. "There's been a bit of chaos that I need you to handle for me regarding some whistling flowers in the foyer."

"Of course, Auntie!" I broke away from Harrow with a quick apology, but he managed to slip his hand into mine to keep me there a moment longer.

"Another time, Audrey." His lips pressed against the inside of my wrist and I had to fight the surge of nausea that moved through me and maintain an impassive expression and pleasant continence.

I retreated quickly back into the house, as the clock began to chime for the midnight hour, ending the old year and beginning the new.

I somehow knew the new year would be as horrific as the last.

Oo0Oo0

Kissing Percy while the door to the flat was kicked closed was becoming a bit of a habit. It was rare we were wine drunk these days, too dangerous, but a couple of quick glasses in the kitchen of the good vintage that Lucinda had kept back for the family seemed to do the trick, giving us both an opportunity to separately beg ourselves away from the main party as the clock struck one.

I was quickly unbuttoning his shirt while one of his hands squeezed my bottom while simultaneously trying to pull up my robes. My hands moved away from his buttons and slid under the collar of his dress robes to the smooth warm skin beneath, climbing slowly up the back of his neck to his potion stiffened hair to try and pull his lips back to mine as he started to nibble my neck, I bit back a gasp as he sucked a small bruise under my ear. He laughed quietly as I clutched his hair to either prevent or encourage a second, I was not sure. I was far too distracted by the fact that my dress robes had now been successfully rucked up around my waist and his winter cold hands resting on my hips.

"Merlin! Your hands are cold!"

Percy took the opportunity to move his hands to my lower back.

"That's no improvement."

"You're quite warm, I think I'll stay here."

"I actually button my cloak and wear gloves."

"Which is very impressive, but I think it's too warm for gloves."

"Ugh!" My next comment was muffled by his mouth and the guiding of me away from the door and towards that sofa which I had deemed one of my many nemeses and the only one I could openly curse on a regular basis. No, no we were not going to have sex on it, our past attempts to do so seemed cursed to interruption.

I had an idea.

I gripped Percy's lapels and did my best to navigate him back towards his office while I walked backwards and continued to kiss him because in the moment, it felt both impressive and sexy- like some sort of romantic lead in a contemporary romance novel. Until I almost fell over hitting the corner of the hallway. Less sexy, more hazardous to our health.

But we would not tempt fate to be interrupted.

His breathy laugh as he pulled away from me to reorient himself to open the office door behind me sent pleasing shivers to all of the obscure, hidden places on my body.

"Well, in you go."

I released his lapels and stepped out of his grip, backing into the office while Percy's eyes roamed over me with an expression of open desire. I had some ideas what I wanted when we started this, but that had fled my mind somewhere between the door and entering the office. Now all I had bubbling under my skin was lust and need.

Percy closed the door behind him, perhaps something more out of instinct for having a large family than a paranoia for privacy.

I wanted another round of practice on some things we tried last week, do things that Percy distracted me from suggesting in full.

I flashed Percy a smile and backed myself against the desk, giving him a slight shrug as I started removing my robes, my face red under his intent, studious gaze.

"Well?"

Percy moved forward so quickly a dumber part of my brain assumed he had apparated.

Suddenly we were back together, my bare skin pressing against his clothes to hide the sudden chill of my panties moving down my legs. My bra disappeared somewhere behind me; I thought I heard it land in the chair. Percy ground against me in a way that made me clutch the back of his shirt as stars danced behind my eyes. I found myself laying back on the desk gasping and muttering incoherent praise in his ear before he kissed me in a way that made my toes curl and my legs wrap around his hips.

The sudden noise at the door pulled us apart.

That better be the neighbor...

"Percy?"

"Yes, love?" The words were half-whispered, half groaned against my lips. "Still comfortable?"

I nodded and brushed my nose against his with a giggle as one of my hands slid into his hair. He looked a mess, a happy, contented mess.

"Can we try something?" I managed to take off his glasses and drop them in the office chair in an act of precision that was unusual for these trysts.

He kissed my cheek and the corner of my mouth as he murmured a response. "We've tried a few things," he pulled away from me so he could look down at me with a teasing smile that always made me nervous in these situations. "You'll have to be more specific."

The knocking began again – more aggressive and louder than before.

The desk is cursed too! I need sage!

I straightened my clothes quickly while Percy and I struggled to catch our breath. I did not need to look in the mirror to know my lipstick was smeared and mussed, the glimpse of my reflection in a shiny bookend confirmed it and I decided it would be easier to clean my face with a wave of my wand before finding my panties on the floor on top of my robes.

The knocking grew louder and more insistent.

"I'll check it." He roughly pressed his lips against mine as he buttoned his shirt. "Back in a minute."

Nobody knocked on someone's door this late at night for good news. We had other ways of connecting these days.

I slipped out of the office to discreetly follow Percy, lingering at the end of the hallway just out of sight. If he was murdered, I would avenge him. If it was an idiot, I could drag him back to the office to finish what was only half done.

"Who are you?" Percy's voice was sharp and demanding, reminding me of the early days we worked together for the Minister.

"Tavish! Who're ya?"

I felt a chill go over me as I gripped my wand. Had we been infiltrated? Was that really Tavish? It had to be; a Scottish accent that thick was hard to copy.

"Percy Weasley. What was the first thing you said to me when we met?"

"I dun like English laddies! What is my great niece's favorite tea?"

"She hates tea."

"What a waste."

Jerks.

Percy opened the door and Tavish staggered inside, when the door clicked closed Tavish spoke again.

"Audie! I know yer 'ere!"

I stepped out of the hallway. Tavish's thick, worn cloak was tattered by the wind and sprinkled in snow and ice that began to melt off when he came in the door. I took me an embarrassingly short time to run into Tavish's arms for a hug.

"Everyone's alrig't, dun worry." Tavish released me and heaved a heavy sigh.

"The Creevey boys are missin'."

Oo0Oo0

Author's Note: I'm going back to two week updates folks! We have a more complex section with a lot of politics on the way and it needs more attention then my 1000 words can offer.