The Grind (And Helping Heather Potter) [Book 2]

Fleur Delacour ran frantically through the British campgrounds, dodging mayhem and shouting for her sister, "Gabby!? Gabby?! Gabrielle! Où es-tu?!"

It was as if her world was falling apart. The chaos around her didn't help her mental state. She knew she should have never come to these accursed islands. It was bad enough she'd be spending most of the year here for the tournament but she'd always been soft on her sister and Gabrielle had convinced her Papa to allow them to attend the Quidditch World Cup here as well. Just look where that got them…

They were treated poorly by the British. As less than second-class citizens — mere objects really — simply for the fact of their Veela heritage. If not for Fleur's quick wand hand and their father's political connections, she was sure they would have been accosted even more than they already had been. Even with those advantages, Fleur hadn't felt safe ever since she stepped foot on British soil.

She and Gabrielle had both heard horror stories in the Veela coven of the more backward magical countries such as Britain or Russia. The countries where discrimination by blood and species was still firmly entrenched and even enforced by the governments. Stories of unlucky Veela who were claimed by some Dark, inbred Pure-Blood and used as sex slaves or breeding stock. Stories where nothing could be done on the Veela's behalf because those corrupt countries would rather defend their own bad apples instead of delivering justice.

She'd previously dismissed them as over-exaggerations. Surely, no country in Europe could be that bad… right? Now, she was kicking herself for her naivety.

Wizarding Britain was that bad… Oh, not all of it. Fleur met several people she would have gladly called friends back in France. But they did not diminish the hatred, arrogance, ill manners, and crude lust that she and Gabrielle had found so pervasive in British Wizarding society.

She'd never experienced anything like it in France, nor the other European countries she'd vacationed in such as Germany and Italy. As a Veela, she was used to men and women drooling over her appearance and Allure, though in Britain it was as if the effectiveness of those aspects of herself were multiplied. Many sneered at them as well, looking at her and Gabrielle as if they were something less than Human even as they lusted after the two of them.

Then there were the persistent, unwanted, and often violent advances of British potential suitors. She and Gabrielle had nearly been assaulted twice in a single afternoon! It was outrageous!

One of the almost-assailants even said she'd been asking for it! Needless to say, Fleur made sure to treat him to Maman's special curse. The one that rocketed a man's manhood inside of his body and made the disgusting little thing stay there.

Word quickly spread about Fleur's ruthless wandwork and she and Gabrielle were left relatively unbothered after that. Of course, there were still people who drooled over them or were merely persistent with their advances. But a threatening point of her wand was enough to make them back down, leaving Fleur and Gabrielle free to enjoy themselves for most of the evening.

But now, Fleur's worst nightmares were coming true. Chaos had broken out throughout the campgrounds. She and Gabrielle had been separated. Fleur had been nearly assaulted again, this time by a masked and robed man whose visage sent shivers of dread down her spine. Even a young French woman like Fleur knew about Britain's Death Eater problem. It had been in her father's briefing before they'd been allowed to go to the World Cup alone. They'd been assured it wasn't likely to be a problem though.

It was very much a problem. One that might now take Fleur's dear sister away from her. These Death Eaters had decided that an international Wizarding event set in a Muggle locale was the perfect venue for their drunken 'fun'.

She didn't know how many there were. She didn't know if they had a goal other than destruction and mayhem. But Fleur did know that she and Gabrielle would be prime targets for the Death Eaters' cruelty. These Dark pieces of shit were exactly the type of people those stories had warned them about. Maybe worse…

And so, Fleur searched and searched the ruined and burning campsite, fear building in her heart with each passing second and clouding her mind. She could defend herself. She'd done so multiple times so far, cursing and hexing the Death Eater who tried to assault her into painful unconsciousness. She'd even had to stun a poor, weak-minded soul who fell to her Allure and tried to cling to her in the chaos and confusion.

Gabrielle was not so blessed with Fleur's skills, nor her speed with a wand. She was an innocent child, pure of heart and carefree when it came to her studies. She did not feel the driving need to prove herself as more than a pretty face that Fleur did. Gabrielle's talents simply lay in other subjects and there was usually nothing wrong with that.

Now, though, Fleur was chilled to the bone at the thought of her baby sister being unable to defend herself against fully-trained, Dark adults. Internally, Fleur promised herself that Gabrielle would be attending all future dueling classes with her if-… when they made it out of this.

Fleur tried to keep herself optimistic, tried to keep her hope from dying in her breast. But that was not an easy task when she looked around. Fires consumed tents and stalls alike, illuminating the night with an eerie yellow glow and creating a haze of smoke that burned her eyes. Every now and then, she would come across a body lying prone on the ground. It hurt her heart that she couldn't even spare a second to check if they were alive.

But Gabrielle came first. Every second wasted was another second that Gabrielle could be… could be… Fleur couldn't even finish the thought. It was too tragic to even consider. It wouldn't happen. It couldn't. Or Fleur would make sure Britain felt the wrath of the whole Veela species.

The sky took on a green tint. Fleur barely noticed, only looking for a moment to see that vile symbol materialize from smoke above the campsite. She heard the telltale pops of apparation, catching sight of one to see a Death Eater fleeing.

Still, she couldn't breathe a sigh of relief. What if one of them had taken Gabrielle with them? So her desperate search continued as the campsite fell into an uneasy peace with the Death Eaters' departure. She ran and ran until her lungs heaved with each breath. And then she felt a familiar flare of Allure and aura and salvation appeared before her eyes.

"Gabrielle!" Fleur cried, sliding to a stop on her knees and engulfing her dear sister in a smothering hug, coincidentally tearing Gabrielle from the friendly grasp of another. Fleur wouldn't have cared about that even if she did notice though, too relieved to have her sister back in her arms.

[AN: Okay, just a quick AN to address something because I know at least someone is going to mention it. Why didn't Fleur just use the Point-Me spell? One, because that would ruin this scene/introduction to Fleur's POV. Two, the Point-Me spell doesn't actually exist. The canon spell is the Four-Points spell and all it does is point toward North. Point-Me being a magical GPS is a fanon creation, which, like, I'm fine with but it didn't seem necessary in this situation. And Three, even if I was going to use it, Fleur would have no way of knowing that specific spell. Point-Me is a spell that Hermione invented to help Harry with the tournament. Cool? Cool.]

"Tu vas bien?! As-tu été blessée?!" Fleur asked in frantic French, leaning back to fret and look over Gabrielle.

[Translation (I don't speak French but I did my best): "Are you okay?! Were you hurt?!"]

Gabrielle tried to soothe her worried older sister, "I am fine, Fleur, thanks to Mon Ange…"

For the first time, Fleur noticed that Gabrielle hadn't been alone. She pulled the younger Veela into her breast protectively and turned her gaze onto the three others nearby.

Two were female and looked to be about Gabrielle's age. The last was male and looked the same age as Fleur herself. Maybe a year older… Oh, and there was a dog as well but Fleur dismissed it as unimportant for now.

Her eyes darted between the two girls for a brief moment. They were pretty, Fleur supposed, but their beauty had nothing on Veela like Gabrielle and herself. Though they had their own charms. Especially in the black-haired girl's short and curvy stature and the way the slightly-taller girl was practically pear-shaped.

Still, Fleur's eyes quickly returned to the one closest to them, the older male. He was reasonably tall, half of a head taller than Fleur's already considerable height. His hair was jet-black with white highlights, long but kept in a messy bun-ponytail-hybrid to keep it from getting in the way. His facial features were soft and elegant, almost regal. A pair of scholarly glasses framed his vibrantly violet eyes.

Considering that Gabrielle replied to her in English, these three were most likely British. Which admittedly was why Fleur was so wary of the older man. But she didn't like how Gabrielle was staring dreamily at him either. The small, sheepishly relieved smile on his face told Fleur everything she needed to know about him.

Her eyes narrowed into a glare. She'd heard tales of men manufacturing scenarios to earn a Veela's gratitude and then taking advantage of it. With her mind clouded by protectiveness and desperation to never lose her sister again, Fleur assumed she had all the facts of the situation without asking a single question.

Seeing her glare, the man excused himself, "Well, I guess we should be going. You're her sister or something, right? In that case, I doubt I have to ask you to take care of Gabrielle. She's just been through something rough. She'll need your support."

"Yes, I will. Your assistance," Fleur spat. "Is no longer needed."

The man smiled awkwardly and turned to leave with his two companions. Gabrielle reached for his retreating back but Fleur held her fast, "But-…"

"Do not worry, Gabby," Fleur cooed, hugging her tightly. "I am here."

"You do not understand, Fleur…" Gabrielle said, looking longingly at the three figures as they disappeared into the smoke and mist of the ruined campsite. "I am bonded to Mon Ange…"

"He did what!?" Fleur hissed furiously. "I knew it! That English bastard!"

Gabrielle shook her head sadly, already feeling the loss of her savior in her heart, "Non, Fleur, he did nothing. I was the one to initiate the bond. I owe him the ultimate debt. Not only that but… His soul… It calls out to me…"

"Gabby, you are not thinking straight," Fleur denied. "You have just been through something traumatic. Come, let's get home. I'm sure Maman will know just what to say."

At any other time, Fleur would've been happy to see Gabrielle pout, but after everything that happened tonight, it just tore at her heartstrings. Especially since Gabrielle was currently pouting in defense of a scheming, manipulative British Wizard.

"You were not here, Fleur," Gabrielle's unintentionally cutting words made her flinch. "You did not see him come to my aid like a dark avenging angel. He saved my life and my purity, Fleur. After that, I could offer him nothing less than myself."

Fleur shook her head, "You are too innocent for your own good, Gabby. He must have arranged the whole situation to gain your trust."

Gabrielle laughed, the sound like tinkling bells that would have normally warmed Fleur's heart, "He killed them, Fleur. Their remains are still warm, and their blood still flows. He could not have arranged this. Not without being the force behind the riot itself."

For the first time, Fleur noticed the carnage around the small clearing they were in. The three ruined bodies that had been reduced to naught but gore. The burnt grass around their final resting place. And the mostly intact body, still bleeding from a vicious slash to the neck.

Her assumption of what happened wavered in Fleur's mind. Could she have been mistaken? No, her stubbornness persisted, firming itself into mental concrete.

He was just that good. A master manipulator. Some kind of… master baiter… He'd completely fooled innocent Gabrielle. But he wouldn't fool her. Fleur would save her sister from the clutches of this manipulative man. She would never let Gabrielle be taken away from her again…

IIIII

"Sooooooo…" Heather drawled. "Tonight's really been something, huh?"

"That it has," Hermione agreed with a sigh, watching as Atlas disappeared with the telltale twisting of space and pop of apparation.

Atlas hadn't been too keen on sticking around after the riot rounded itself up. After the Dark Mark appeared in the sky, all of the Death Eaters terrorizing the campsite fled. Something they were all thankful for but it did feel a little off. Why would the Death Eaters flee when their own mark was set off?

Maybe it had something to do with the sudden influx of Aurors and Ministry staff that followed its appearance. Almost as if the Dark Mark was what finally crossed the line. Like everything before it appeared was harmless rabble-rousing… Needless to say, it left a poor taste in their mouths.

So after Atlas handed off the girl they'd saved to her sister, they'd taken their leave from the Quidditch World Cup. Heather and Hermione directed him back to the Burrow to hopefully reunite with the Weasleys who they'd been separated from in the chaos. That hope was fulfilled with tight, smothering hugs from Mrs. Weasley upon their arrival.

The younger Weasleys managed to find the rest of their family during the riot. With his family safe and accounted for, Arthur went to join the Ministry-backed force that was trying to restore order. Mrs. Weasley had decided that it wasn't worth waiting for the portkey to take them home in the morning and had herself and her three oldest side-apparate everyone back to the Burrow. She'd been worried sick about Heather and Hermione but trusted Atlas to keep them safe because "Dumbledore sent him".

Heather and Hermione tactfully avoided telling Mrs. Weasley about the fact that they had intentionally put themselves in danger. It had all ended well and they decided to leave it at that.

Everyone else had gone to sleep after a hectic day and evening. Heather and Hermione stayed up, unable to sleep. They eventually ended up sneaking out of the Burrow together, thankful that all of the Weasleys could outsleep the dead and unaware that a certain Animagus followed to keep vigil over them. They went to a little private grove on the Weasley's property that Ginny had shown them, climbed a tree, and just watched the stars while they talked.

"… You wanna talk about it?" Heather asked, broaching the subject that she knew was still lingering on Hermione's mind.

"I don't know what you're referring to," Hermione denied unconvincingly.

"C'mon, 'Mie, you know what I'm talking about. If it makes you feel better, it's kinda bothering me too…" Heather admitted.

Hermione was silent for a moment, looking around the grove below them before she spoke in a quiet voice, "He killed them."

"He did," Heather agreed with a sigh as if just saying that was enough to lift a weight from her shoulders. "Can't say they didn't deserve it though."

"That's not the point and you know it, Heather," Hermione huffed. "One person shouldn't just be able to play judge, jury, and executioner."

Heather hesitated to voice her true opinion, knowing she didn't fully agree with her best friend on this subject, "Shouldn't they?"

Hermione quickly built up a full head of steam and was about to go off on a rant before she looked over and saw Heather looking at her with a surprisingly vulnerable expression on her face, "I-I… What do you mean?"

"This isn't the Muggle World, Hermione. We both know how backward Wizards and Witches are. We both know how corrupt they are as well. Would those Death Eaters have even faced consequences for their actions if it wasn't for Atlas?" Heather asked, not leaving any time for Hermione to answer before she continued.

"It wasn't like they were just shoplifting or something! They were actively trying to assault a girl… A girl our age… Just to cause her the most pain and humiliation possible before they probably would have killed her anyway! That's evil. They were evil. There's no other way to say it… I-I don't think I want to live in a world where they get away scot-free because Atlas wasn't there to punish them.

"A-And then there's me…" Heather said, trailing off.

"What about you?" Hermione asked compassionately, seeing how much this was affecting her friend.

"I'm a killer too, Hermione… I killed Quirrel when I was just thirteen."

Hermione protested, "That's not the same! He was possessed by Voldemort and it was in self-defense!"

"Isn't it?" Heather asked in a genuinely curious tone. "Those Death Eaters might not have been possessed but they did serve Voldemort at some point. And Atlas acted in defense of another. Shouldn't that be given just as much consideration as self-defense?"

"I… uh…" Hermione couldn't refute that point.

"If I'm not a murderer for killing Quirrel, neither is Atlas for killing those Death Eaters. If you think he should be damned for his actions, so should I," Heather asserted firmly.

"You're right," Hermione said after a long moment of consideration. "I could never judge you for doing what was necessary and I shouldn't try to judge Atlas for the same thing either.

"The Wizarding World isn't the same as the Muggle World. You're right about that as well. I can't just apply the logic I grew up with to situations in the Wizarding World and expect the same outcome. It's just… even after three years, this world feels so foreign at times."

"Yeah…" Heather sighed, her gaze returning to the stars above them. The two fell into a short silence before Heather spoke again, "Other than that, uh, small moral quandary, what do you think of our new Assistant Professor?"

Hermione nodded imperiously, "He seems very competent and knowledgable. I believe we will learn quite a bit from him in the coming year."

"Oh? Anything specific you want to learn from him?" Heather asked, faking innocence in order to further tease her best friend.

Hermione shot Heather a knowing glance, "Don't start, Heather. He's perfectly nice and let's just leave it at that. He'll be our professor in two weeks, for goodness sake. There's nothing more to it."

Heather laughed, "Ha! As if that isn't just a bonus for you, 'Mie. You can't fool me. I know all of your most hidden fantasies, remember? An older authority figure who is willing to give you extra-special guidance… Ring any bells? All that was missing from that scene in the Top Box was it being set in a library."

"Heather!" Hermione gasped as if scandalized, unable to continue hiding the blush that wanted to seep into her cheeks. "He was just reading to me to keep me from bothering him! Honestly, his focus was entirely on his book and furthering my understanding of Ancient Runes!"

Heather stared at her with a disbelieving deadpan, "Right. So not a single part of you was thinking about him teaching you in another way? Guiding you into womanhood, perhaps?"

"I-I don't see how that's relevant at all," Hermione's face took on a rosy hue that even Heather could see the appeal of — if only, a suppressed part of Heather's mind sighed.

'Actually', Heather continued that line of thought until a wicked grin grew on her face, "Maybe I wasn't asking for you. Maybe it's relevant to me instead."

"Wha-! Heather, no! I saw him fir-…" Hermione protested before her mind could catch up with her mouth, eventually trailing off upon seeing the knowing, teasing smirk on Heather's lips.

Heather shrugged nonchalantly, "Why not? It's not like Petunia ever gave me that part of the talk. If anything, I need his guidance more than you do."

With her mouth gaping open and closed like a fish, Hermione's mind stuttered. Eventually, she threw her hands in the air and said, "Fine! I like him! He's cute and smart and paid attention to me over you for once and-! And he's a teacher! Happy?"

"Yup~" Heather smirked, popping the 'p'. "But I was only, like, half-teasing. You're right, he's smart and cute in that 'bookworm' kind of way like you. I'm not gonna deny my attraction. Plus he didn't seem to care about my fame. I figure I could do worse for my first time. So I was kinda thinking we could, like… work together?"

Hermione looked ready to protest but Heather cut her off before she could, "Things are different in the Wizarding World, Mie, remember? Aren't, like, covens a thing? Just try and keep an open mind. I wouldn't do this without you…"

That deflated Hermione's protests. She fell quiet, considering Heather's words and trying to keep an open mind like she'd been asked. She absently tucked the mention of covens away in a corner of her mind for later research. They seemed important for some reason. A way to further protect Heather, perhaps?

Her Muggle upbringing had her wanting to decline Heather's offer to work together for a single man purely on principle. But this wasn't the Muggle World and she wasn't a Muggle. Would it truly be so bad to share such a monumental moment with Heather, her first and best friend? Wasn't it only right after everything else they'd been through together?

Finally, after a long, tense moment for Heather, Hermione gave a resolute nod, "Truce. I-… I might need your help anyway. I don't know the first thing about seducing a man. And it's not something you can just research in a book."

Internally, Heather was jumping for joy, but outwardly, she played it cool, "Sure it is, 'Mie. Doesn't your mom have any bodice rippers lying around? Ya know, like, those trashy romance novels? Petunia has dozens of them. Like, so many that it would be kinda worrying if she wasn't married to Vernon."

"No…?" Hermione innocently shook her head. "I don't think she does. At least, not that I've seen."

"Oh, you sweet summer child~" Heather teased. "She does. I can practically guarantee it. She probably just hides them so you aren't tainted by their filth~"

Hermione blushed but seemed determined to learn more. She was always excited to learn. Even things with… non-standard practical applications. Heather grinned and was happy to oblige. They spent the rest of the night like that, up in a tree and discussing the art of seduction as it was portrayed in cheap, trashy, romance novels.

In a shrub below them, a certain dog-shaped Wizard used his paws to cover his ears, stuck somewhere between whimpers of embarrassment and full-blown laughter. Sirius loved his Goddaughter but listening to her talk about bodice rippers like they were nonfiction was torture.

It was simultaneously hilarious and mortifying. He didn't even know if she was serious or not. Either his Goddaughter was pulling a masterful prank on her best friend or she truly believed everything she was saying. If it was the first one, she deserved a pranking medal of honor.

If — as Sirius was starting to suspect was more likely — it was the latter, Sirius would have to step up and do his embarrassing Godfatherly duties and set her straight… Or he could have someone else do it. Maybe his cousin Tonks? Yeah, she was a woman. Surely, she wouldn't further the two girls' misunderstanding of how romance worked… right?

IIIII

I ran a hand through my hair as I walked out of Dumbledore's office. It was already late when I arrived back at Hogwarts and now it was even later after I spent half an hour debriefing Dumbledore on everything that had happened at the World Cup. I was completely honest with him, of course. Including everything from my discontent with the Cup's locale to Heather's determination to help people during the riot.

He hadn't quite approved of our actions but he commended us on doing something to make a difference, even if we should have fled. Still, he considered the task he assigned me a success. Which was a good thing because it seemed that that was the trigger for my quest to complete itself.

< Quest Completed: Boy-Who-Chaperoned >

< Condition(s): Keep Heather Potter and Hermione Granger Safe Through the Duration of the Quidditch World Cup >

< Rewards: +2 to Defense, +5 to Attack, and +6 to Awareness >

< Defense 21+2=23/100, Attack 13+5=18/100, Awareness 13+6=19/100 >

And I'd leveled up outside of the quest as well. Along with two developments that were slightly concerning.

< +1 to Tactics, +3 to Focus, +3 to Dueling >

< Tactics 19+1=20/100, Focus 20+3=23/100, Dueling 18+3=21/100 >

< New Discipline Unlocked Due to Taking Your First Lives: Dark Arts >

< Dark Arts 21/100 >

< Perk Unlocked x2 >

< Dark Nature: Due to Your Heritage and the Natural Inclination of Your Magic, 50% Bonus to Dark Arts XP >

< Veela Bond: +3 to Seduction and Willpower, +1 to Influence, +2 to Luck, Soul-Bond-Esque Connection With Gabrielle Delacour, The Enmity of Fleur Delacour >

< Seduction 33+3=36/100, Willpower 31+3=34/100, Influence 3+1=4/100, Luck 32+2=34/100 >

Again… slightly concerning. Maybe the fact that I unlocked the Dark Arts Discipline after killing four people wasn't all that surprising, but the second perk certainly was. At least to me. I'd have to do some research on Veela and their bonds. Hopefully, it could stay in the background and me and Gabrielle could go our separate ways without any hard feelings.

It wasn't as if I was totally against the idea of having a magical creature of Lust and Attraction bonded to me. But I didn't know Gabrielle at all. And I would rather she not feel obligated to me just because I saved her.

That's how I found myself in the Hogwarts Library at just past midnight, searching for books on Veela. This place would always hold a special place in my heart and it was almost invigorating to be here so late. Thankfully, Madam Pince commuted during the summer and Professors didn't have a curfew.

With a Lumos spell on the tip of my wand, I walked the aisles of the Library after checking the catalog Pince kept at the front desk. The book I'd found in the catalog was called Vivacious Veela and should be… ah, there it was.

Even with Madam Pince gone, I didn't dare use the Summoning charm to find a book in the Library. There were just some things that you didn't do.

I secured my research material under my arm and began to make my way out of the Library. A flickering light from one of the many reading nooks in the Library caught my eye and held me up slightly. When I went to check it, I found a welcome sight.

"Can't sleep, Septima?" I asked, making her jump slightly in surprise.

Septima turned to me and smiled, "Atlas! You're back!"

For a moment, I was taken in by the scene in front of me. Septima had been hunched over a desk with papers and books scattered across its surface. When I surprised her, she leaned back, turning to face me as her light source illuminated her like a halo.

Her hair was up in a messy bun, kept out of her face as she worked on whatever she was working on. Her robes were slung across the back of the chair she was sitting in, revealing that she wore surprisingly modern-looking clothes underneath them. She looked so natural like this. So comfortable in her element. And upon seeing me, the fatigue seemed to wash off her face.

"That I am," I said, allowing a small smile to cross my face before I knew it. "Just figured I would fetch something to read since I'm back. For some reason, I can't imagine I'll have an easy time sleeping tonight. Too much energy left over from everything that happened today."

"Oh?" Septima cocked her head cutely. "What happened?"

I waved off her question, not wanting to retell the story so soon after telling Dumbledore, "Eh, nothing all that important. I'll tell you later. What are you working on?"

"Why do I feel like you aren't being completely truthful, Atlas?" Septima asked, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. I just feigned innocence. "… Fine. I'm working on my lesson plans for the coming year. Like you, I could not find the will to sleep."

An idea struck me, "Hmm, can I cash in that rain check then?"

Septima's eyes lit up at my question, "Yes!… I-I mean… certainly, Atlas. I would be delighted to have another brilliant mind to go over my plans. And perhaps… have coffee with afterward…?"

"Sure," I agreed easily. "It sounds like we have a late night ahead of us. Should be fun."

"Yes, and while you check over my plans, you can tell me about what happened to you today," Septima said, her tone hinting that saying no wasn't an option.

I winced, "Do you really want to know? You'll hear about it in the Prophet in the morning anyway…"

Septima's look intensified. It wasn't quite a glare but it carried the same impact, the same implication that she was about to get very cross with me, "If what happened to you was important or dangerous enough to appear in the Prophet, I would rather hear it from your mouth first, Atlas. At least then I don't have to worry about the Ministry-approved spin on the story. Sit."

I didn't even realize I was obeying her abrupt order until I was sitting next to her. I chuckled, "Your 'stern teacher persona' really is something, Septima. Alright, pass me your first lesson plan and I'll tell you the story of my day. Dumbledore tasked me with chaperoning Heather Potter at the Quidditch World Cup-…"

Septima listened intently as I talked and explained everything that happened today. Like with Dumbledore, I didn't leave anything out but I was more loose and open with Septima due to our growing familiarity. I absently read through her plans as I spoke, borrowing her quill to mark things I wanted to address later.

All in all, it was the perfect way to unwind after an eventful day…