Chapter Eight (part two)

Randall climbed slowly and stiffly up a narrow, decaying spiral staircase, pulling his bent and withered body up by an old rope attached to the wall. In his free hand he held his lit wand aloft; this was the only source of light Randall had to guide him up the pitch-black staircase, so despite his exhaustion he kept his weary gaze trained on the cracked, crumbling and slippery steps. After what seemed like an age he reached a door and let himself into the small room inside. He flicked his wand at a fireplace against the wall and flames burst to life in the small grate. He stood in front of the fire for several minutes, warming his old bones, before turning away and shuffling over to the narrow bed on the other side of the modest sized room. With a loud relieved sigh Randall eased himself onto the thin mattress of the bed. Randall's room was at the top of a small North-eastern tower. The room was sparse to say the least; containing what few personal objects Randall possessed. Feeling as though his eyelids were weighed down with lead the old seer glanced listlessly out the thin window; as usual he saw no moon, nor any stars shining above where they should be - there was just the inky-black sky, tinted an ugly, unnatural yellow near the horizon (but he was too high up to see that). He lay down on the bed, grateful his duties were over for at least another twelve hours or so. He closed his tired eyes and did what he did every night; thought very hard and tried to picture home.

Once again the tired, faded image of a little stone cottage came to his mind's eye; this quaint humble little abode stood on the outskirts of a tiny little village, which was surrounded by green fields and rolling hills. It was here, in this quiet little paradise, where Randall had spent his childhood; where he had grown into a man; where he'd wooed the Butcher's pretty daughter, and won her affections. Randall had spent his happiest years in that sleepy little village, that is, until Galen's best trained Trackers captured him and brought him to the jagged black coasts, and dark, barren wastelands of Cimmeria. On that day, Randall was robbed of many things: his freedom, his sweetheart, the chance of a normal happy life, the sun, and most importantly the memories of the people and places he cherished so much. His memories were tampered with beyond repair; broken and distorted until he was left with nothing but a scant collection of hazy images. The names of his parents, his family and friends, his neighbours, his village, his country, even the name of the girl he loved had all been obliterated from his mind.

It was Randall's gift of Sight that had caused Galen to go to such lengths to track him down and ensure he had no means of escape; a gift which ironically did not present itself until after Randall had been captured (if it had he would have seen them coming and managed to escape). Of course it had all been planned that way, the previous seer had told Galen where to find Randall and when to strike, so they could intercept him before he inherited his talents. A seer was an invaluable thing to have about to the Cimmerii, particularly to Galen - who at that time was still awaiting the prophecy of the boy to fulfil itself - unfortunately, due to the dark rituals, and ceremonies the Cimmerii practiced, and the strict breeding programs the master enforced; the clan had unwittingly bred the gift of foresight out of their bloodlines.

The Cimmerii valued power above all things; in fact it was almost an obsession to them. Only witches and wizards with naturally potent magic running in their veins were allowed to reproduce within the tribe and to ensure inbreeding didn't become an issue, outsiders were often kidnapped from their homes like Randall and brought to the dark shores of Cimmeria. Blood purity didn't matter to them so those that were taken could either be pureblood, half-blood, Muggleborn or even muggle; so long as they were fit and healthy they were adequate. This ancient obsession had uncovered powers other wizards could only dream about; magic so dark that it should have remained shrouded in mystery. Through their dark occults the ancient Cimmerii learned of a way to lengthen their lives and bestow upon them an almost immortal state of existence, but for this life to be possible one must make a sacrifice - a terrible and sacrilegious sacrifice - which would have dire consequences upon the entire Cimmerii race. According to their ancient scripts and legends the Gods were so angered that they cursed the Cimmerii for their sins, condemning them and their descendants to live in eternal darkness and banished them from the spirit realm; so that even in death there would be no relief from the darkness or their punishment.

From that day on the sun had not shone on the country of Cimmeria, and the people of this land had become highly allergic to sunlight; should they be exposed to the sun for even a second their bodies would burst into flame and they would burn to death. The point of the curse was to make the Cimmerii suffer and to make that suffering endure, that is why, despite the lack of natural light, the Cimmerii were able to force enough food to grow, and enough livestock to sufficiently survive so they didn't all starve to death. Cimmeria had become like a separate world, one in which outsiders were not meant to survive in; from the moment people like Randall ate the food and drank the water they were doomed. The darkness crept into their very souls making them weak and ill, eventually killing them. For breeding stock this didn't matter; they just had to survive long enough to produce more children. But for a seer, such as Randall, steps had to be taken to ensure he lived for as long as he was needed. Unicorn blood had let Randall live a long and miserable life. He'd been force fed several doses in the last ninety-eight years but unicorn blood was not a permanent fix; it couldn't keep a person alive forever, nor could it keep them from ageing. Randall was quickly running out of time. Once Galen had the boy he would no longer need a seer because he would have something far more powerful and valuable. Once the boy was one of them there would be no reason to keep Randall alive, his purpose would be fulfilled and he would finally be free.

As Randall finally slipped off to sleep he couldn't help but hope that all this would be over soon so that he could finally be released from this God-awful life.

Draco had to admit that Molly Weasley could be quite cunningly manipulative when she put her mind to it. He had only intended this visit to last an hour or two at most; yet somehow Molly had managed to get him and Hermione to stay for dinner, and then dessert (using his weakness for all things chocolate against him by presenting them with a delicious chocolate gateau), and then coffee. This meant several hours later, the Malfoys were still to be found in the Weasleys' living room. Molly seemed quite determined to hold on to them for a while longer, which Draco found slightly annoying since she had no qualms letting the Lupins leave before dinner, then Fred and George and their families before dessert (since this was to be Freda and Georgina's punishment), Bill and Fleur left not long after, closely followed by Percy and his family and then Ron who wanted to get back to his girlfriend Lavender Brown. This just left the Potters, who lived close by to the Burrow and therefore had no problem staying late. As much as Draco loved the Burrow, he preferred his own house more. Besides which he was tired and wanted an early night, and he could tell just by looking at her that Hermione was exhausted as well; she was just too damned polite to admit it. He hadn't really been paying attention to the conversation so was a little confused when Molly suddenly chirped in excitement:

"I'd be happy to show you what to do, dear!"

Bewildered by this Draco glanced at Hermione who was wearing her 'eager-to-learn-new-things expression' as he'd christened it. This only served to confuse him more. What exactly did she want Mrs Weasley to teach her?

"Oh but the mediwitch said that someone would be sent to our house to check on the twins and to show us how –" said Hermione, but Mrs Weasley cut across her before she could finish.

"Pfft!" she snorted disdainfully. "What do any of those people know about babies?! Half of those so-called experts that they send out to new parents have never even had children of their own! No trust me, Hermione dear, what you need is someone with real experience to show you how it's done!" she finished with a determined nod of her head.

"Oh. Alright, as long as you don't mind" said Hermione beaming.

"Not at all, pet, not at all" replied Molly cheerfully, getting to her feet.

"I'm sorry," Draco burst out, feeling more confused than ever. "But, what's going on? I've not been paying attention."

"Molly's going to show us how to bath the twins" explained Hermione happily.

"Oh" said Draco. "What?"

"Not to worry, dear, after seven children and eight grandchildren I think I know what I'm doing" Molly reassured him brightly. "Now, I think the old baby bath is in that shed of yours, Arthur."

"Oh mum! You can't use that mouldy old thing!" objected Ginny. "Why don't we lend you the new bath we just bought for the baby?" she asked, stroking her swollen stomach affectionately. "Harry can apparate to our house, get it and be back in five minutes?"

"What, you mean that newfangled, plastic thing you were telling me about?" asked Molly, a slightly disapproving tone in her voice.

"Yeah! It's much more hygienic!" said Ginny enthusiastically.

"Very well then" Molly sighed.

"Won't be long" Harry said, giving Ginny a peck on the cheek before leaving the room so he could apparate in the garden.

Draco was still reeling over the idea of bathing the twins for the first time. It was something both he and Hermione had been nervous about, and put off; hoping someone from the hospital would turn up and show them what to do. It was also another excuse, he realised with an internal groan, for Mrs Weasley to keep him and his wife at the Burrow for a little longer. Merlin this had better not take long, I just want to go home now! Potter, thankfully, didn't take his time fetching the small, blue plastic bathtub and returned a few minutes later. Molly laid down towels on the floor and set the bath atop of them, and then filled it with warm water. Molly, Draco and Hermione sat themselves on the floor around the bath, while Ginny and Harry watched curiously from the couch and Mr Weasley dozed in an armchair. Hermione lay Mira down on another towel and began to undress her. Draco felt distinctly uncomfortable about his daughter being undressed like this with so many people watching, and it took some considerable effort on his part not to scoop her into his arms and rush her from the room, it just felt wrong somehow even though she was a baby and this was completely innocent and he was surrounded by people he trusted. Following Molly's instructions Hermione picked up Mira and lowered her gently into the water. Looking slightly surprised and crooning softly Mira waved her little arms and thrashed her legs splashing the water as she did so. She seemed to enjoy the sensation of the warm water and let out a stream of happy gurgling sounds as she continued to splash the water with her arms and legs. Despite himself Draco grinned.

"That's it, Hermione, now support her head with your right hand and let her body float a little, don't be nervous, there you go. Now with your left hand take some handfuls of water and pour it over her body, very good. See not so hard, is it?" said Molly, beaming. "And she's such a good girl too, aren't you precious?"

After thoroughly enjoying herself Mira was lifted from the tub - clean and fragrant - and laid back down on the floor to be gently towel dried by Hermione. Now it was Draco's turn to bathe Wyatt. Molly flicked her wand at the bath so that the murky soapy water was replaced with fresh, warm water. Feeling a little apprehensive Draco lowered his tiny son into the water; sensing almost at once that something was wrong. Wyatt's reaction was the complete opposite of his sister's. Draco saw his son's eyes - which a moment before had been gazing serenely at the ceiling - widen in fear, and then he felt Wyatt go very still. His arms and legs did not splash about; instead he curled his body into a foetal position. He screwed up his little face, which had flushed a dark pink, and let out an ear-piercing wail. Mr Weasley woke with a jolt. Wyatt crying was in itself unusual since Draco and Hermione had noticed that their son very rarely cried, mostly he left that job to his sister. And never had Draco heard the infant cry quite like this, at the top of lungs, and with his little body quaking with the force of every impossibly loud scream. Hermione's head had jerked round in alarm. The Slytherin instantly panicked; thinking he had done something wrong. He looked to Molly for guidance.

"Now don't panic, Draco, not all babies like their first bath, this is perfectly normal" she said loudly over the racket.

"Are you sure?! I've never seen him this worked up!" said Draco anxiously.

"Yes dear, just reassure him a bit, he'll settle down soon enough."

"Ssh, it's alright Wyatt. Daddy's got you, there's nothing to be afraid of" said Draco soothingly, stroking one of Wyatt's little arms.

But Wyatt seemed to think there was and showed no sign of calming down. His piercing wails continued to fill the room, making everyone wince. Unable to stand it any longer Draco lifted his baby out of the bath and held Wyatt's shivering little body securely against his chest. The moment the baby was safely out of the water every light in the room began to flicker. And to Draco's utter bewilderment he felt a curious tingling energy radiating from his son's miniscule form. Before he could even begin to fathom what was going on there was a sudden flash of light and the little blue bathtub soared into the air and launched itself at Arthur, who yelled in fright and threw himself onto the floor, before the bath smashed into the wall splashing water everywhere. Wyatt's wails died down immediately and a shocked silence fell over the room. Draco glanced down at his baby son who gazed back at him with his beautiful grey eyes, apparently content once more. The strange energy that Draco had felt had vanished with Wyatt's distress. With a sinking feeling in his stomach the Slytherin turned to his wife; she stared back at him looking as frightened as he felt.

"What just happened?!" asked Mr Weasley at length, his voice trembling.

"It was almost as if ... but he couldn't possibly ... it's impossible ..." murmured Mrs Weasley, as her stunned face turned towards Draco and her gaze fell upon Wyatt.

Draco was suddenly aware that everyone's attention was now focussed on the baby in his arms. He felt his pulse accelerate as his useless brain failed to think of some excuse. He needed something, anything, to make them stop staring at his child! I knew this was a bad idea, I knew it! They were going to work it out, Arthur and Molly, they were going to put two and two together and realise his baby bore a mark. Then what would happen? What would they do with such information?

"Draco?" said Hermione timidly.

Draco's face instantly snapped back to his wife's gaze. There was something in her voice that made him suspicious, something in her tone that suggested she was on the verge of confessing everything. He glared back at her his meaning perfectly clear 'don't you dare!' Hermione bit her lip and quickly glanced at Mrs Weasley then back at him, clearly debating what to do in her head. Don't Hermione! Please don't, please let us go home and maybe they'll just forget all about it! Please don't tell them!

"Molly," said Hermione, her decision made.

"Hermione!" barked Draco warningly.

"Oh Draco, please just trust me" she moaned pleadingly.

"Don't do this!"

"Molly ... its Wyatt ... h-he has a ... a mark" Hermione stammered, avoiding Draco's furious glare.

"A mark!" gasped Molly.

"A mark" repeated Arthur.

"I-it's really not that big a deal .... i-is it mum?" said Ginny, trying and failing to reassure the Malfoys.

"Ron said it meant he was cursed" said Hermione tremulously. "But that can't be true, can it? He's just an innocent little baby ... it doesn't mean anything. It's just a birthmark."

"It's much more than that, Hermione" said Mr Weasley seriously.

Overcome with irrational panic, anger and betrayal and willing to protect his son at any cost Draco jumped to his feet and started to back away from the others, holding Wyatt protectively against his chest. Hermione's pale face followed him as he backed towards the kitchen door and her eyes filled with tears.

"Draco –!"

"How could you? Your own son! I told you not to tell anyone, why couldn't you have just listened to me?" he said, his voice shaking with anger and fear.

"Please I know you're scared but –"

"That is not all I'm feeling right now!" he snarled.

"Now Draco just calm down" said Arthur evenly.

"Don't tell me what to do! I swear ... if you tell anyone ..."

"You'll what, hex me?" retorted Arthur a little angrily. "How long have we known each other Draco? I took you into my home when you had nowhere else to go! I treated you, the son of a convicted Death-eater and a man I despised, with respect and kindness. You are like another son to me, as Hermione is like another daughter. That makes you and your children part of our family! Do you honestly think I would betray you in such a way?!"

Draco felt most of his anger ebb away but he was still afraid. The thought of losing Wyatt terrified him and he wanted so desperately to protect him. He wanted so desperately to believe Arthur was sincere but he couldn't help feeling a little niggling of doubt; it just seemed too good to be true that Arthur was reacting precisely the way Hermione had predicted. Besides, Molly was yet to say anything else.

"I'm sorry" he said shakily. "I was just so worried about how you might react, especially after the way Wea-Ron took it. I don't want the ministry finding out about him, I don't want his name down on a register. I don't trust them!"

"Well, they certainly won't learn about his nature from us!" said Molly stoutly, standing at last. "I never did hold much weight with those nonsense stories our grandparents handed down to us! Cursed indeed! What on earth did our ancestors know about it?! As far as I'm concerned if he's got a mark then it means he's special, not something to be feared and not someone the Ministry need concern themselves about!"

"Quite right, Molly my love, and if those stories have an ounce of truth in them then Wyatt is indeed going to be a very special boy, with unique powers which I suspect we've just seen first hand. And Draco, if you still doubt me then I'll happily make an Unbreakable Vow to prove I'm trustworthy."

Draco felt like a weight had lifted from his chest. A wave of relief washed over him as it sank in that he could trust the Weasley's with Wyatt's secret. "That won't be necessary, Arthur, just hearing you say that makes me feel much better."

Molly approached him cautiously and handed him a towel to wrap around Wyatt. He gave her a faint smile in thanks, which she returned with a tender one of her own.

"Would you mind if I took a look at this mark, Draco?" asked Arthur as cautiously as his wife had approached the young father.

"Alright" said Draco, taking a calming breath.

Mr Weasley slowly walked towards Draco, who was obviously still a little jumpy. He pulled a reassuring smile onto his thin face, as he approached the young father. Draco uncurled Wyatt's small fist so that Arthur could clearly make out the rust-coloured spiral on his palm.

"Fascinating" said Arthur in an awed voice. "It's a spiral, how very unusual. According to the stories the marks are supposed to take the shape of ancient runes. That must be wrong."

"So let me get this straight" said Harry suddenly, "Wyatt's the one who threw the bath across the room?"

"Duh!" exclaimed Ginny disdainfully.

One hour later the Malfoys returned to the entrance hall of their home with a loud crack. Their goodbye with the Potters and Weasleys had been very awkward indeed and they hadn't spoken a word to each other since before they'd disapparated from the Weasley's garden. There was a moment where they just stood there where they had just reappeared; Hermione gripping fiercely to the handle of the pram and Draco holding both the pram and his wife. Hermione had sensed his tension the second he had wrapped his arm around her waist in the darkened garden; there was nothing tender in his touch, he was cold and distant. She opened her mouth to speak and with no idea what to say but next moment Draco had released her and was striding away from her towards his study.

"Draco!" she yelled after him, her voice cracking with emotion.

He ignored her and kept walking away, a few seconds later she heard a door slam. Of course she had known that he would be upset with her when she'd decided to tell the Weasleys about Wyatt's birthmark but she had never imagined that his reaction would be this explosive. There had been a moment in the Burrow where Hermione had feared that Draco would pull his wand out on Mr Weasley. Brushing away angry tears she went after him. If he thinks he can shut me out then he is mistaken!

"Draco Malfoy, OPEN THIS DOOR!" she yelled, pounding her fist against the wood of the door to his study.

"Piss off!" he returned angrily, his voice muffled slightly.

"You are being ridiculous!" she screamed back, more tears sliding down her face. "I understand that you're angry but that's no reason –!"

She leapt back in fright as Draco threw open the door and filled the doorframe with his tall form, looking positively livid. A little scared Hermione shrank back against the wall.

"Angry? YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW I'M FEELING RIGHT NOW!" he screamed, his voice electric with cold fury. "Have you ANY idea what you did tonight?!"

"YES! I was confiding in some of my oldest friends!" Hermione yelled back, refusing to be intimidated by his rage.

"YOU DELIBERATELY PUT OUR SON AT RISK!" screamed Draco irately; ignoring Hermione's shocked gasp and the flicker of hurt in her eyes.

"What else was I supposed to do? They'd just seen a bath throw itself across the room; it's not like we could possibly deny it! I wasn't going to lie about something so important! It doesn't even matter any more because their fine with it, just like I told –!"

"That's not the point!" he roared, grabbing Hermione by the shoulders and giving her a shake. "Things could have turned out completely differently and then where would we be?!" he demanded, shaking her again and making her wince. "You were not raised in my world! You don't know how deep our superstitions can go - so there's no way we could have known how the Weasleys would react!"

"Of course, I'm just a stupid Muggleborn," Hermione sneered sarcastically, twisting in Draco's strong grip. "How could I, possibly understand?!"

"Don't fucking start with that! You're always so bloody quick to jump to the defensive when it comes to the difference in our heritage! How many times are you going to make me apologize for the past?! What else do I have to do to prove I'm not like that anymore?! The point is we were raised in different worlds. Brought up with different beliefs and taught to fear different things; I tried to explain that to you but you just wouldn't listen, would you?!"

With that he released her with a look of disgust and swung around; slamming the door behind him once more. Hermione stood motionless for several minutes; too shocked to move. Then a sob forced its way up her throat and out of her mouth and she burst into tears.

"FINE!" she yelled her voice breaking, slamming her hands against the closed door. "LOCK YOURSELF AWAY, see if I care!" and sobbing uncontrollably she hurried away.

Draco, who was slumped against the other side of the door and had felt the force of her anger vibrate through his spine, smacked his head against the wood and screwed his eyes shut.

"Fucking fantastic, Malfoy!" he swore softly to himself. "You handled that marvellously you bloody wanker!"

Hissing in frustration he slid to the floor and buried his face in his hands. He wanted to go after her and apologize; he really had blown his top and gone too far but he knew if he went now when everything was still raw between them she would likely hex his balls off - which he probably deserved of course. Besides, Draco was still hurting and angry too and didn't feel like grovelling just yet. He rested his elbows on his knees and leaned his chin against his fists. As much as Draco was angry with Hermione, he was angrier with himself; he had lashed out in fear and in doing so he had hurt Hermione, he had frightened her and worse of all he had made her cry. Draco hated upsetting her, but sometimes he couldn't keep his own stupid mouth shut. He sat there for several minutes trying to steady his breathing. He jumped, startled, when a piercing wail rang through the house. Wyatt was crying again.

It was just after midnight and Hermione was in the nursery with the twins, rocking Wyatt in her arms who hadn't stopped crying once in the last two hours; which was very unlike him. She had tried everything she could think of to calm him but Wyatt refused to settle. Hermione was utterly exhausted and at her wits end. Despite the noise that had filled the house these last two hours Draco had yet to emerge from his study to find out what was wrong with his son. A fact Hermione was furious about. How dare he sulk in his God-damned study when I'm up here caring for the twins completely on my own!

"Please, sweetie" she whispered desperately to her tiny son "You really need to go to sleep now and so does Mummy. Oh please Wyatt, I don't know what to do!"

"Let me see him."

Hermione gasped in fright and spun around to find Draco staring at her from the doorway. "I don't need your help!" she snapped at him.

"Then why haven't you stopped him crying then?" he retorted bitingly, walking into the room. "Give him to me."

"Fine, since you're such an expert!" she hissed, glaring daggers at him while handing Wyatt carefully into Draco's arms.

Draco settled the baby boy against his shoulder and rubbed small circles against Wyatt's back. He walked toward the window, ignoring Hermione's frigid glare.

"Hush, little man, Daddy's got you ... sssh ... it's alright now, I'm here I've got you ... no need to cry anymore ..."

To Hermione's utter astonishment and outrage Wyatt's wails slowly died away until he was completely silent. Draco continued to whisper to him and stroke his back soothingly until the baby finally drifted off to sleep. Feeling irrationally inferior and knowing she couldn't bear to see Draco's gloating face Hermione spun on her heel and rushed from the room. Draco turned in time to see her mane of curly hair whip out the door and heaved a regretful sigh. He settled Wyatt into his crib and tucked a blanket around him before leaving to search for her. Hermione was to be found in the kitchen, noisily washing dishes, which Draco knew for a fact were perfectly clean already since he'd washed them himself after breakfast. She had changed out of her red blouse and jeans and was wearing her white silk dressing gown. Her hair was wilder than usual and he suspected she'd been running her hands through it, like she usually did when she was stressed.

"Hermione" he began tentatively, noticing her back stiffen in response.

"Go away!" she snapped, sounding like she had a bad head-cold.

"No" he said firmly, walking further into the kitchen. "I want to apologize."

"Well I don't want to hear it!"

"Please Hermione, I'm so sorry ... I should never have taken my temper out on you, I'm an idiot okay? I just got scared."

"I don't care about your temper ... you're a grown adult, Malfoy, you should be able to control yourself better" she said quietly.

Wincing when she called him by their surname Draco went on desperately: "I know I should! I just panicked when you told them; I was afraid they would reject us, reject Wyatt. And the thought of losing him, it petrifies me!"

She was silent for a few minutes and then: "You really hurt me, Draco" and it was obvious from her voice that she was crying again. Draco's heart gave a painful pang as his insides burned with guilt.

"I know I did, baby, I'm so sorry! Please don't cry, Mina, you know I hate it when you cry ... please Mina I'm sorry" he whispered emotionally, calling her by his private nickname that he rarely spoke outside of the bedroom. He was standing directly behind her now. He placed his hands on her slim shoulders and ran them down her arms but this action caused her to flinch and hiss.

"What is it?" he asked concerned.

"It's nothing" she muttered.

But an image had just flashed horribly in his minds' eye and with a growing sense of horror Draco pulled up the sleeve of Hermione's morning gown until a dark bruise on her upper arm was revealed. He felt bile rise in his throat as his body flushed with shame.

"Oh Gods!" he gasped. "I did that!"

In shock he felt his body sway a little as he continued to star transfixed at the small bruise. Shame and remorse were spreading like an inferno through every nerve in his body. He was nauseous and furious with himself. He felt disgusted that he had lost control of his temper and allowed himself to leave a mark on the woman he loved.

"Fuck! I'm so sorry, you have to believe me, Mina ... I didn't mean to, I would never - not on purpose, you know I wouldn't ... please forgive me!" he pleaded frantically.

At last she turned around to face him; her eyes swimming with tears. He searched her face for any trace of fear or hate and was relieved when he found none. "I know you didn't mean it Draco" she whispered pressing her body against his Draco's, and twining her arms around his waist. Flooded with gratitude and adoration Draco enveloped her in his embrace. "You were right though, I shouldn't have blurted Wyatt's secret out like that, it was stupid, I'm sorry. And I forgive you ... as long as you forgive me?"

Draco's response was a long passionate kiss which left them both panting. He leaned his forehead against hers, inhaling her mouth-watering scent. "Draco, I'm so tired" she whispered so softly that he had to strain to hear her voice.

"Put your hands on my shoulders" he instructed her quietly.

Too tired to question him, Hermione complied and then gasped as he picked her up like she was a child. Instinctively she wrapped her legs around his waist and clung more securely to his shoulders. Draco swayed again, this time from the powerful rush of arousal he felt by this simple yet intimate action. Hermione seemed to sense his desire since she forced his chin up and holding his face in her slender hands she kissed him again; long and slow, drawing a longing groan from his throat. Pressing hungry kisses to her long neck and collar bone Draco clumsily manoeuvred them out of the kitchen and precariously up the stairs until they reached their bedroom. Laying her down on the bed he climbed on top of her, grinding his pelvis intimately against her sex eliciting a moan from Hermione. She wrapped her legs around his waist once more granting him better access. In a frenzy he kissed a trail down her jaw and neck while he rocked his hips urgently against her. Whimpering Hermione clawed at his T-shirt desperate to feel his pale smooth skin. Lifting his head from her shoulder Draco swooped down again and crushed his mouth against Hermione's lips, robbing her of all the air in her lungs, as his tongue invaded her mouth.

"I wish I could show you just how sorry I am!" he gasped pulling away with difficulty, his voice heavy with desire and longing.

"God so do I" groaned Hermione, recalling with regret that she wasn't fully healed yet for them to allow this to go any further.

Panting Draco buried his face against her shoulder and tried to steady his erratic heartbeat and the restless thrusting of his hips while Hermione stroked his hair. After several minutes he sat up and gazed down at her flushed face, a lopsided grin twisting his mouth.

"I think I better have a quick shower before bed" he sighed, leaning down and kissing her on the nose.

"Yes ... good idea."

"Lord Galen?"

"What is it now, Randall?" asked Galen impatiently, as his bright eyes stared moodily into the fireplace.

"The Trackers have returned, sir" explained the seer. "There is a woman with them."

"Well show them in then, quickly!" Galen ordered, leaping to his feet.

Randall vanished behind the door at once and returned a few minutes later followed by two tall wizards; one was thin and pale with gold hair and beard, the other was burly with dark red hair and a stubbly chin, both of them had vivid purple eyes. Between them they were dragging a young woman with long dark hair and large brown eyes; she was struggling against them with all her might. Galen had been expecting the shape-shifter, Merrigan, but the Trio had described her as a 'hag' which this slip of girl certainly wasn't. Galen's Trackers dragged her before the fireplace and threw her unceremoniously to floor at Galen's feet. He glared down at her his fiery eyes alight with scepticism.

"The sorceress, Merrigan, my lord" said the blonde wizard as he and his companion bowed before their master.

"Indeed?" drawled Galen disbelievingly.

"She has changed her image many times since we first tracked in a village thirty miles from here; this is merely her latest disguise" explained the red-haired wizard.

"Is it now? On your feet woman!" he ordered.

The woman glared up at him in defiance and remained kneeling on the floor. Incensed Galen raised his hand and curled his fingers as if he were crushing an invisible throat. The girl clutched her throat, gagging as her body lifted itself off the floor. Galen waited until her lips had flushed blue before releasing her from his magic and she staggered backwards gasping, but otherwise remained standing.

"When I give you a command you shall obey me wench!" he roared furiously.

"But of course, my lord!" sneered the woman scathingly, dipping into a mocking curtsey.

"Show me your true face" commanded Galen.

"Make me!" she challenged crossing her arms insolently.

Galen stepped forward, reached out and grabbed her by the throat. This time his intention wasn't to strangle her it was to force her to resume her true form. She gasped as Galen's large hand began to burn her skin spreading like wildfire through her whole body. Before Galen's eyes the woman's skin began to age and sag, her cheeks hollowed out as the face bones rearranged themselves, her hair turned silver and wispy, her eyes changed from a dark brown to a bright yellow, and she shrank several inches. Galen released her as the Trio's hag glared up at him furiously.

"Randall wasn't wrong when he said you were a fourth level daematrix, rare for a woman."

"Yes well, my true masters didn't share your contempt for my sex!" hissed Merrigan.

"I assure you they did, where do you think I learned it from? The only reason they let you reach such a rank was because of your unique talents" sneered Galen.

"And I suppose my 'talents' are the reason I find myself here this night?" she demanded imperiously.

"Precisely, why else would I go to such trouble to find you" said Galen scathingly. "Proteus, Taeben leave us!"

"As you wish, my lord" said Taeben, the burly, red-haired wizard, as he and his companion bowed again and left the room.

"Tell me, Merrigan, do you know of the prophecy?"

"You mean the one that says a child of great power will be born to lead us out of darkness? Yes I've heard of it."

"Well then, it is my pleasure to inform you that the child was born a few days ago and that you are going to help me get him!"

"Am I now?!" she said incredulously. "And why would I want to do that?!"

It happened in a flash; one minute she was standing before Galen, her thin arms folded once again in defiance, the next Galen had grabbed her by the hair and forced her head into the fireplace so that her ancient face was suspended inches above the licking flames. She gasped in fear as an unbearable heat engulfed her head and shoulders.

"The Trio may have tolerated your insolence you filthy crone but I am a man of little patience and you are wasting what little I possess!" roared Galen furiously. "If you cannot show me the respect my position demands I shall –!"

"You'll what? Kill me?" crowed Merrigan derisively, despite the precarious situation she found herself in. "Somehow I don't think you will; you need my help to get this child of yours which means I'm much too valuable to kill. And if you think you can torture me into helping you think again! I became immune to torture long before you were even born! You can threaten me all you like, Galen, but nothing you do will force me to obey you!"

After a slight pause Galen dragged her back out of the fireplace and forced her face to look into his silver masked one. His fiery eyes contemplated her withered face for several minutes until at last he released her. Rubbing her neck she glared up at him contemptuously.

"Perhaps ... there is another way to persuade you?" said Galen shrewdly. "You seem to be unusually ambitious for a female ... perhaps you desire more power? If this be the case then maybe we can come to some kind of arrangement?"

"You would allow me to ascend to fifth level?" asked Merrigan suspiciously.

"I believe you would be the first female to ever reach such a rank. So, does my offer interest you? Would you be willing to carry out the task I have for you, for such a reward?"

Merrigan was silent for several minutes as she pondered Galen's offer. Her yellow eyes searched his face but, as usual, the silver mask he wore made it impossible to read his expression; which seemed to be the point of it. Slowly a twisted smile curved her thin lips.

"Very well, I accept your offer. I will help you get this child, as long as you hold up your end of the bargain."

"Good" said Galen in a satisfied voice.

"So what is it exactly you want me to do?" asked Merrigan.

"The child, Wyatt, has proven ... difficult to obtain. He possesses great powers that have protected him from all attempts to bring him back to Cimmeria. So I intend to deceive him; I want you do disguise yourself as the boy's mother and bring him to me" explained Galen.

"Alright, what does the mother look like then?"

"What does that matter?" said Galen impatiently.

"What does it matter?!" shrieked Merrigan angrily. "How do you suppose my power works?! I can't just transform into some woman I've never seen before! I either have to see her first or have something of hers; a lock of hair or a few drops of her blood, and if this child is as powerful as the prophecy suggests then I would go with the latter option!"

"A few drops of blood you say?" asked Galen, who hadn't been expecting this complication. "Very well, if that is what is needed for this plan to succeed you shall have it. Randall! Send for Armen!"

"Yes, my lord, at once" Randall obeyed, scurrying from the room.

"Armen will bring you the mother's blood and then, Merrigan; you will bring me the boy!"

Author's note:

Hi Guys sorry it's taken so long for me to update but I'm back. Life got a little hectic for a while there but it's settled down again so I've got more time to write so hopefully I can update a little more regularly.

Now you're probably wondering exactly who the Cimmerrii are and I promise more about them will be revealed in time. However I advise that you pay attention when I mention the colour of their eyes and when I talk about their ranks and 'ascending' because the significance of all of this will soon become clear. Oh yes, did you notice that new word I threw out at you? Daematrix? This too is something to remember.

Hope you enjoy this chapter and I hope I get some good reviews and hear what you think of it ^_^ ta ta for now!