Search Home Read Write Forum Login Register
Okay guys, there are several reasons why it has taken an excruciatingly long time for this capter to be posted. 
First and foremost being that my computer waged an all out war on me last week, I won, but the stupid thing put up a pretty good fight. 
The next reason would be that I was gone for the two days after it finally got straightened out, I was several hours away in Austin running the course where the State Cross Country meet will be held. It wasn't an all buisness trip, or even a mostly buisness trip, but I still didn't get in until 1:30 on sunday morning, so yeah, i was pretty tired. 
The third, and final reason would be that right now, on the 5th of October, when I am sending this in, the backlog is twelve days. Yes, not hours, but days, I'm sorry, it can't be helped. So now, I am gonna shut up, and let you guys get on to the real reading, it's a long chapter, if that makes things better...    

            Hermione eyed the broken water fixture in her hand; it was solid steel, so how had she snapped it off when merely trying to get hot water? Experimentally she put the broken half up to the jagged break, holding it to the place where it had been mere seconds before, she half expected it to grow back or something.

            But nothing happened, so she raised her free hand and snapped her fingers gingerly, but there was no rush of fiery strength, nor was there a burning of power in her spine. Instead she felt foolish, sleepy, and completely incapable.

            She half opened her mouth to call Malfoy, and snapped it closed again, no, why should she go crying to him over a mere broken tap? Since when did she ever go crying to Malfoy? Why wasn’t she bolting to go get Harry or Ron, or better yet just fixing it herself with a simple wave of her wand?

            She was half turned to go get Malfoy, and instead half turned the other way to go get her wand, when she stopped again, why couldn’t she just fix it herself? Why couldn’t she just snap her fingers, or clap her hands and it be fixed? Like Malfoy mending her shoulder wit a spell circle, or Anthony making those stones move the night she battled Jonathan?

            Surely those were huge compared to a simple mending? Had she not made all her Brothers collapse with a mere snap? Was this not a simple, small thing in comparison?

            She observed the useless lump of polished steel in her hand, weighing it in her palm, using her fingers to test the smoothness of its outside, and the jagged edge where it broke away from its moorings. Her finger slipped on the sharp break, and a single drop of orange blood oozed out, falling across the gleaming silver steel.

            She gazed at the drop, feeling a low fire burn beneath her skin, her eyes sharpened, taking in every nick and scratch across the broken handle, her hand clenched, she felt her instincts taking over-

            With a casual flick of her wrist she tossed the tap up, before bringing her palms together and clapping once, it echoed in the marble bathroom even more than it would normally. The chunk of steel slowed in its downward flight, listing slightly towards the place where it had broken off.

            Her eyes were cool orange as she snapped the fingers of her right hand, watching keenly as the metal melded together, mending till it appeared to have never been broken. She palmed the metal lightly, feeling for cracks or a patchy repair; it was perfect, smooth. There was no bead where it had been welded, nor was there a warm line where she would be able to feel if a spell had mended it. It was whole, unbroken, perfect, a job well done. 

            She allowed herself a brief grin of pleasure before gingerly turning the tap and letting the hot water beat against her skin, still clammy from the light sweat she had worked up doing push-ups earlier that morning.

            Taking a shower was a whole new experience, she could feel each individual drop as it hit her skin, sense every wave of heat that broiled over her bare flesh, she rejoiced in the heat, and relished the steady pounding of water droplets on her back.

            She uncapped her shampoo, and the rich vanilla scent nearly overpowered her, never before had she realized how strong smelling it was she may need to change brands to something a little milder scented.

            But she could almost forget that as she scrubbed it vigorously into her scalp, scratching in the soap, before massaging it away, letting it swirl off her hair, trickle down her legs, and dance into the drain, leaving only its rich scent behind.

            Scrubbing her skin was an experience she would never again take for granted, she could feel every fiber that washed away dirt and grime she hadn’t known existed on her skin. She washed her hair twice and scrubbed every inch of her skin at least three times over, luxuriating in the experience, nearly purring with happiness.

            She rinsed her body one last time, and gently turned the water off, stepping out of the shower in a lush cloud of delicious smelling steam, her dripping hair swinging behind her in a dripping, snarled, edible smelling curtain. Gooseflesh rippled across her arms as she stepped out of the steamy bathroom and into her cool room, she almost turned around and hopped back in the shower rather than deal with the shivers that were rocking her spine.

            But Hermione Granger was made of sterner stuff than that, so instead she walked to her closet and began getting dressed, pausing every now and again to listen to Jason’s easy breathing and smile at it.

            She heard the door close on her side, and the water start again, so Draco was in the shower. Did he take the same joy in showering that she had just discovered? Probably, he seems like a guy who would enjoy his showers to their fullest… ewwww, scarred for life, think of other things, soccer-running-shooting goal-winning game-hot-sweaty-Dragonesses-The Lair-Draco getting mocha-dancing with Jamie-sweaty-strong-sweaty-Draco-stupid head-don’t think-

            In her eagerness to think of anything but Draco in the shower, she dredged up the image of her and Draco, hot and sweaty, on the soccer field, no!

            Did he know the effect he was having on her? She could smell him from here, his cinnamon and ginger spice that made her nose tingle almost like she wanted to sneeze, only instead she tried to breathe it in deeper. She could live on that smell alone; did he do that on purpose? Did he knowingly make her knees go weak, and her nose twitch happily at his smell, and her thoughts turn to the two of them hot and sweaty and-No, bad Hermione, bad-bad.

            She considered taking a leaf out of Dobby’s book and hitting her head repeatedly with one of the hideous uniform required shoes that she still had yet to put on. The soles were good heavy rubber, she would certainly learn her lesson, but, she might wake Jason, and Draco would notice any bruises she might show up with. Not if they’re under your clothes…

            She glanced down at herself, not sure where she could easily hit herself with the heavy shoe, and then she caught up with herself

            Why am I thinking about hitting myself with a shoe hard enough to bruise? Oh yeah, Draco Malfoy, bad thoughts, would notice uncovered bruises, weird…

            She shook her wet hair, sending water drops across the hanging clothes, and the dark wood floor, she resolved to never think of what she had just thought of ever again, and went on with pulling up her stockings.

            By the time the houselves arrived to take Jason back to the kitchens with them she was completely dressed with mostly dry hair, and an only slightly tired smile that didn’t so much a twitch when the crack that announced their appearance rained across her ears like heavy thunder. A groggy Jason was collected, and disappeared with them after receiving a hurried kiss on the cheek from Hermione, and firm instructions to be good, and she would visit him later.

            Hermione swung her damp hair through the air as she spun, searching for her leather messenger bag, only to find it exactly where she had left it the night before. She was rushed all morning, though she wasn’t sure why, she had plenty of time, but she felt the need to hurry, to dash through her morning rituals, even though she was moving faster than ever before. To a watching human she was moving about as fast as the average Olympic sprinter, Draco however, listened to her calmly, and marked with approval how well she was adapting unconsciously to her newfound speed.

            He counted her frantic steps, and adjusted the speed of his own morning routine to match hers; he was waiting for her down in the Common Room when she made her harried way through it. He fell into step with her without a word, noticing her nostrils flare and her back stiffen at his approach. She involuntarily took a deeper breath in unison with Draco, they breathed in each other’s unique scents, and continued on, their strides in perfect sync without either of them adjusting their steps.

            Hermione was drowning in his cinnamon and ginger spice, it tingled in her nose, making her breath deeper, willing him to keep moving, if only to keep his skin stirring the air, to keep the perfume of his flesh whisking across her nose. And then there was the perfect unison thing, she and Jamie could keep in sync, but they had to think about it, had to practice for hours, had to sweat side by side, before they could be considered in perfect harmony.

            Draco took in her fresh vanilla fragrance with progressively deeper breaths, she was grace itself, and every time her arm swished by her side, or she impatiently shook her hair from her face, the bouquet hit him afresh, almost causing him to break stride. But he wouldn’t dare break stride, he wouldn’t dare mess with this special synchronization, he wouldn’t mess with this, wouldn’t destroy this harmony, never had he felt so completed. She moved as he moved, he was walking in his usual strut, and she was sauntering along right beside him, her every step matching his own to perfection, her every breath taken in as he took in air.

            A fourth year Ravenclaw actually ran into a wall watching them as they walked down the corridor, for several seconds after they had passed he blinked and shook his head, wondering if he needed to see the nurse. The rivalry of Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy was legendary; surely what he had just witnessed was not true?

            Their fellow early risers who were sojourning to the Great Hall for coffee stared as they walked through, many muttered, wondering how long it took them to prefect that act, but they moved so unconsciously that few believed it was practiced.  The harmony the two Heads created was so second nature that many of the girls glanced at their boyfriends and sighed with envy, never would they achieve that synchronization, and sadly, they all knew they could do nothing about it.

            Hermione’s nose twitched distractedly, as the girls sighed with jealousy, the smell of their breath carried to her nose and disrupted Draco’s scent, her next footfall was harder, and Draco felt it, his misty eyes sliding over her form wordlessly.

            He felt her every step as it echoed silently through the paving stones, he could feel everyone’s steps, but her footfalls were a rhythm their own, and one that he was happy to keep time with.

            Hermione wasn’t sure how she knew exactly when he would step, but she did, and effortlessly she kept pace, it was unreal, and at the same time the most real thing se had ever done, ever had the pleasure of participating in.

            Michael and Anthony wordlessly watched them pass, “And all their doing is walking” one muttered to the other, Michael just shook his head incredulously at his Lord, and his Sister.

            Hermione placed her palm gingerly on the wood of the doors to the Great Hall, glancing over at the other of the enormous double doors to see Draco mirroring her action perfectly, without looking at her. As one they heaved the doors open, and walked in, still walking together to a beat all their own.

            The separated and began breezing to their own tables, when Hermione’s senses caught up with her, Draco heard her gasp cut off, and her steps falter, though no one else noticed. He looked back, to see her rooted to the spot, still several steps away from her seat, her eyes wide with horror; her hand halfway to her face destined to either be clapped over her mouth, or pinched over her nose. “Move it Granger” he muttered, her head swiveled around to look at him, her orange eyes flashing their chagrin.  “now” he hissed, the barest hint of an order masking his worry.

            He wanted nothing more than to sweep her up and fly her outside, lifting her higher and higher into the atmosphere, till the air was free of all scents except for rain in the clouds. He wanted to dash her from this human infested place with all its overwhelming smells, to take her up into the mountains where the air was pure and untainted. He wanted to protect her.

            The realization hit him like a ton of bricks, and he turned, poised to sprint to her side and carry her far, far away.

            But she seemed to draw strength from within herself; she drew in a deep breath through her mouth so she couldn’t smell it, and winced. Instead of smelling the Great Hall, she had tasted it, and that was far worse. Still she soldiered on, taking first one purposeful step towards the Gryffindor table, and her seat, and then another, she was almost there, having walked the whole way at the same painfully deliberate pace, when Harry and Ron bounced into the Hall.

            Draco watched Hermione wince as they each wrapped and arm around her shoulders, walking her the rest of the way to their places at the table, not noticing her light breaths, and pained expression each time either of them opened their mouth. Or exhaled,

            Or inhaled,

            Or moved.   

            Draco sat himself at the end of the Slytherin table, and took deep breaths, trying to harness the intense rage that gripped him in the wake of Hermione’s discomfort in the presence of her two best friends.


            Across the Hall, Hermione was having trouble controlling herself also, having trouble controlling her need to run from her friends and everyone else in here, except for Draco, he smelled good.

            Everyone else?

            Well, not so much…

            Never before had she detested the younger years who seemed to bathe in that scented gunk with names like Radiant Raspberry, Shimmering Strawberries and Cream, or Citrus Burst. What did they do? Use an entire bottle every morning?

            And could they just pick one scent, why did there have to be so many too strong smells clamoring in her delicate nose like clanging gongs in her ears. It was like someone had blown up a Bath and Body Works in the middle of the world’s strongest smelling flower garden, how did her Brothers deal with this?

            And then a first year walked by that she was positive had not showered in weeks, or used deodorant. Her nose wrinkled with distaste, her appetite was long gone, and she was glad her stomach was empty.  She would have emptied its contents right them and there had it not been as such. As it was all she could do was gag dryly, and try very hard to keep her face turned away from anyone and everyone.

            Ron must have forgotten to brush his teeth this morning, she could smell his unholy morning breath even when his lips were sealed, which wasn’t often.  Harry may have run a tooth brush over his pearly whites, but not very well, and certainly not over his tongue, she could smell his breath too, and it wasn’t much better. 

            A short ways down the table a third year sneezed, making it a high pitched, theatrical sneeze to get the attention of the fourth year boy a few seats down from her. Green gunk shot out of her left nostril at a surprising velocity, and Hermione was assailed by the slimy stench of snot. Did bogies even have a smell? Apparently so, because there was no other explanation for the sticky slime of an odor that slid down her nose and coated her nasal passages.

            Hermione shuddered, and held her breath for as long as possible, when she finally released it the reek still lingered, but she could almost ignore it, almost, but not quite. She shuddered again, and glanced back at the third year, watching in fascinated horror as her friend sitting across the table from her reached for the enormous dish of scrambled eggs that had just been sneezed upon.  Hermione looked determinedly away, reaching for a water jug; her throat was parched for some reason.

            She poured a half goblet of water and raised it to her lips, taking a careful sip, and resisting the urge to gag. The water had come from rusty water pipes, and then had a drop of some potion or other added to purify it. Then it had set somewhere near where they chopped vegetables, she could detect them, and Hermione was no fan of tomatoes, she set the goblet down and pushed it away, so much for that.

            Ron noticed her lack of appetite, “what’s wrong Hermione?” his rancid breath fanned her face, leaving her hard pressed not to throw up then and there. 

            “Nothing” she managed weakly, “Just not hungry”

            Ginny, who was sitting across from her, eyed her suspiciously, “Eat Hermione” she ordered teasingly, “Your skinny enough as it is.” Hermione laughed, but merely shook her head, she wasn’t going to touch any of this food, not when she could taste every ingredient added intentionally, or not.

            Ginny frowned, but said nothing more, her eyes flickered to Hermione every once in a while, her darting gaze calculating, and worried. A flame of apprehension lit in Hermione’s empty belly, if Ginny was convinced something was wrong she would hunt out what ever wrong she perceived, and make it right, by sheer force of will, if nothing else. Hermione occasionally thought she should have been born a bloodhound rather than a petite girl with swirling hair and a figure to die for.

            The distraught Dragoness was about to excuse herself, when Ginny’s voice stopped her, “Where’s Jason?”

            Hermione paused, “Oh, he’s already down in the kitchens” Hermione replied, as brightly as possible.

            “Let’s go visit him then” Ginny chirped back, her grin triumphant; the elves wouldn’t be able to resist feeding anyone who wandered into their domain, particularly if they looked too thin.

            Hermione paled visibly, “Th-the kitchens?” her voice was a worried squeak. The smell in here was terrible enough, the sweating unwashed bodies, the unbrushed teeth, the slightly burnt food, or even the food hat was cooked perfectly, it all combined in her nose to make a stench worthy of several rotting landfills. And there was the noise, the roar of voices that pounded on her eardrums and made her want to run far and fast, to escape the almighty clash of voices and clang of cutlery.

            She couldn’t imagine how the kitchens would smell, and she wasn’t eager to find out, suddenly her nose picked up a whiff of what she could honestly say was the best scent she ever had the privilege to inhale. Ginger and cinnamon spice, she inhaled deeply, unconsciously relaxing her tense shoulders as Draco spoke from over her shoulder, “Come on Granger, we’ve got that meeting with the Head’s of Houses, remember?”

            Ron stood up indignantly, “What meeting, Hermione didn’t mention a meeting.” His breaths made even Draco, with all his firm control hold in a lungful of air, while Hermione tried to placate her friend.

            “It slipped my mind Ron, I’m sorry, I’ll talk to you guys later” she glanced down at her watch and gasped, “Crap, we’re late, see you at break” and with that she yanked Draco along, together they dashed out of the Great Hall, both breathing as lightly as they could manage until they were outside.

            Hermione inhaled a deep lungful of clean air, feeling relief spread from the soles of her feet to the top of her head. She leaned against Draco unconsciously; continued to breathe as if she had been under water too long and had only just come up for air. “Thank you” she muttered quickly, unwilling to pause her breathing of the deliciously fresher air.

            “Anytime” his voice was an amused rumble somewhere close beside her, it irked Hermione that he had seemed unaffected by his senses in the Hall.

            “How do you not gag every meal?” she finally asked, still taking slow, deep breaths.

            “Practice, and a handy senses dulling charm that was passed down to me by the guy who was Lord back in second year.” 

             “Care to share with the class?” her voice was teasing and serious at the same time.

            “Sure, but you need to grow accustomed to your enhanced senses first, in a week I will give you the charm.”

            She whirled around to face him, and the breeze caused by her turn brought his delicious scent to her nose in a surprisingly strong gust. “You’re serious?”

            He eyed her warily, “Dead serious.”

            “And you will not be moved?”

            “Not on this matter.”

            “And there is nothing I can do to persuade you?” she unconsciously made her voice more alluring, trying in vain to shake his resolve.

            Well there is something… “No, nothing” he replied firmly, ignoring the voice in the back of his head that was shooting kinky suggestions at him right and left.

            She sighed, and turned to leave, she took one step, unintentionally stomping a tiny bit too hard, and casing the flagstone to crack under her shoe, she felt it give, the soft earth under the broken bit of courtyard pavement shifting as an unknown pocket of air allowed the two pieces to cave inward.

            Hermione processed that she had broken the stone, understood that the stone must have been laid over a small hole so that when it broke it would collapse inward, and decided to leap off the caving rocks onto safe ground before a human would have notice what had happened. Gracefully she bent her knees and jumped, shoving the broken halves firmly into the soft dirt as she took off, landing four meters away lightly, her shoes firm, but soft enough that she didn’t break any more chunks of granite.

            Draco nodded with satisfaction, “You should tell your Brothers that your training needs to start tonight. They will teach you how to manage your strength.”

            Hermione’s jaw dropped, Draco laughed, the sound hard, burdened, “You think I didn’t hear every thing? You honestly think any of our Brothers could hide anything from me for long? I’m the Lord of the Court, and I know all.”

            Hermione laughed freely at this, “Know this then oh wise one, you will never know everything, because he who thinks he knows everything knows nothing, but he who is willing to learn more will gain wisdom.”

            “What? That made absolutely no sense Granger.”

            Hermione noticed that he didn’t call her Sister, though he called the others Brothers frequently, she wondered if she should be upset, or shivery happy about this. On account of the number of headaches it would induce, she put this thought on the back burner, returning to her conversation in a snap.

            Her mind was functioning much faster, it had been but two and three quarter seconds since he asked the question, “I just made it up, it’s not supposed to make sense.”

            Malfoy merely shook his head, chuckling, “Get to class, and don’t forget to tell your Brothers.”

            Hermione nodded, waving as she walked away, herbology first thing in the morning; at least she had an empty stomach.  


            By lunch she was starving, and had absolutely no appetite. She conjured the purest mountain spring water to sip, only to detect traces of dish soap in the crystal goblet that she had summoned for it.

            Her delicate nose wrinkled in disgust and she threw the goblet away, smashing it against the wall on the empty corridor where she had taken refuge. The musty stench of layer upon layer of dust, and the stale reek of rats dung whispered through the cracks in the walls.  A sour tang of mildew came from the tapestry further down the way, but she was fine with all these smells.

            They were nothing compared to the overwhelming press of humanity’s smells upon her nose.

            Students everywhere, breathing through unbrushed teeth, belching, farting, sweating, spraying on flowery perfumes to cover up their body odor.

            No, these stale stinks were nothing compared to that.

            To bad that she was sitting halfway down the eighth floor corridor, the one hidden behind two trick doors, and guarded by a staircase that took fiendish delight in turning into a slide for a few seconds when one was a mere five steps from the top.

            She would have liked to visit this place more often; maybe she could fly here at night.

            There was a whisper of steps on the other side of the trick door at the end of the corridor, she could hear the dust rising on the breath of air caused by the intruders passing, and resettle, leaving the trespassers footprints clear. Hermione tensed, and then recognized Anthony’s cologne, and familiar scent.

            She was sitting against the wall when he pushed through the hidden exit, making the moldering tapestry it was hiding behind bulge out as he pushed the door open and slid through. He coughed lightly, approaching her slowly, “missed you at lunch.”

            Hermione smiled weakly, “Didn’t feel like eating.”

            Anthony nodded sympathetically, “Yeah, I heard that you had gotten your senses, you get used to it eventually.”

            Hermione sighed, “Malfoy said he’d teach me the restraining charm after a week.”

            “What?” except he was so startled he didn’t exactly get in the last T, so it sounded more like “Whaa?”

            “What’s wrong with you?” Hermione looked up at him, “He said I needed to experience my senses first, and then he would teach me how to manage them with some spell that the last Lord gave him.”

            “But that’s-that’s taboo.”

            “What do you mean?” her eyes were wide and orange, what in the name of Merlin’s happening?

            “Only the Lord’s are permitted to use that charm. It’s as old as the Court itself and it-it’s just not allowed.

            “Then why…“why would Malfoy offer something that isn’t his to offer? Why does he care so much?

            “The only instance of sharing The Charm with someone other than the Lord that I can remember is-”

            The cracked window at the end on the hall shattered inward, Hermione had been so wrapped up in Anthony’s words that she hadn’t heard the rush of air beneath black leathery wings. “Goldstein, you’re needed” Malfoy’s voice cracked through air as the glass tinkled on the floor around him.

            “Of course Lord.” Anthony’s voice was immediately grating, the rough growl of a Dragon.



            Anthony dashed down the hall; barreling past Draco and leaping out the window, becoming invisible as he hit the open air, but not before Hermione glimpsed his wings ripping through the back of his shirt.

            Malfoy turned his burning orange eyes to Hermione, he didn’t want her to go, it would be dangerous, but she needed experience, and the only way to get it was through hands-on training. “Think you can fly?”

            Hermione stretched, reaching high above her head and standing on tiptoe so she was one long stream of muscle, all her energy channeled through her body, her entire being consumed with a raw strength that needed to be used. Others would call this restlessness, but it wasn’t, it was restlessness to the umpteenth degree. It was the need to run, jump, scream, sing, anything that would rid her of the urge to do something.

            Her smile was filled with razor sharp Dragon’s teeth. “I can manage.”

            Draco nodded, he could see the miles of sinew that stretched and pulled along her arms and legs, he could sense her need to work in her stance, he could hear her raw power in her voice.

            The human body is built to work, designed to sweat, to accomplish, here she stood, ready to work, willing to sweat, needing to accomplish.

            He thought she was bloody brilliant, strong, smart, capable, she fascinated him, captivated his interest and made him more uncomfortably at ease than he would have ever thought possible. She kept him on his toes, and he liked it, she wasn’t predictable, and wasn’t willing to lie down, she was proud, amazingly so, but she had every right to be, and he respected her for it.

            “Then let’s fly, I’ll brief you on the way there.”

            “You mean you sent Anthony out without him even knowing what’s happening?” her voice was accusing, her arms folded instantly across her chest in a sign of displeasure.

            Draco sighed, and she had such a strong moral compass he was surprised that magnets didn’t go haywire when around her person, surely she put out some sort of a field with this much force put into her distinction between right and wrong. “He’s been doing this a long time, we all have, he knows that on the wind there’s the scent of trouble, and like all of us he can follow that scent easily. Michael is already there, and Blaise is on his way, now can we go? They need my help, and you need experience in Court matters.”

            Hermione nodded, willing to put aside her chagrin in her eagerness to understand more about the world she had unwittingly thrust herself into. Draco took off down the corridor, not pausing as he crunched through the shattered glass littered around the window, launching his lean body out easily.

            Hermione followed, her skirt flying so that anyone that stood behind her would have had a lovely view of her knickers. However, the wing of the castle from which they were exiting had been abandoned for several years, so she had no worries.

            Well, she did have worries, but not about unknown parties seeing her undergarments.

            Her current worries were more along the lines of Sweet Merlin I’m about to leap out of an eighth floor window with little idea of what will happen.

            And then…

            Why am I doing this?

            Why am I dashing across broken glass and jumping out of a window for boys that up until very recently I’ve detested?

            She could think of no plausible answer as she was aware of her legs coiling under her like steel springs and shooting her long body straight out the window, some of the glass on the sill tinkling back down into the empty corridor as she hit the open air.

            Her arms spread instinctively, her entire body stretched to it’s limit in length, and then she felt it.

            The rip of dormant muscles, wrenching from her back, tearing through her flesh without breaking her skin, unfurling, breaking free, beating the air frantically, and then, with rhythm. She felt the enormous bat-like wing move, understood their rhythm, and detected the way air moved sinuously around them.

            Her smile was elated as she followed Draco through the skies, this was what she was truly meant to be, a being of fire and air. The fire was deep within her soul, in her love for her Court, and the air was in the way she moved, in her grace to ride the air currents known only to birds and Court members.

            She had no trepidation about following Malfoy, he was her Lord, and wouldn’t steer her wrong. Her Brothers were in need, and that alone meant she would follow him to the ends of the earth and back, because he would unswervingly lead her to them.

            And that was all that mattered.

Kay, so if you were grossed out by the Great Hall scene, then I did my job right, and other than that I really don't have anything to say. I'll update as soon as possible, but if the backlog stays like it is, then it might be a while, sorry guys. I still luv you though!!! ^.^

Track This Story: Feed

Write a Review

out of 10


Get access to every new feature the moment it comes out.

Register Today!