Morwenna lay flat on her back, staring up at the dark ceiling. The fire in the grate had burned low, leaving only a few glowing embers that cast flickering shadows across the plaster.
Her body ached in places she hadn't even known she had muscles—her shoulders felt heavy, her wrists were stiff, and the base of her thumb throbbed from where she had gripped the practice blades for hours.
She hugged Vert tighter, finding the green velvet of the plush snake soft and comforting against her cheek. Despite the fatigue, she felt wonderful.
In her past life, she had never once held a weapon intended for actual combat. She had never thrown a knife and felt the weight leave her hand, nor had she watched it strike a target and stick with a satisfying thud.
Those sensations had always belonged to screens, to fantasy stories, and to other people. Now, that knowledge lived in her very muscles.
A quiet giggle escaped her, the small sound quickly swallowed by the shadows of the room. Cinder shifted at the foot of the bed, his bushy tail thumping once against the heavy wool blanket in acknowledgement.
Morwenna hugged Vert tighter, pressing her face into its soft velvet head. Her chest feeling remarkably full, and allowed herself to drift into a deep, dreamless sleep.
.
Morning light eventually filtered through the curtains. Cinder was still curled at her feet, his ears twitching occasionally as he dreamt. She lay still for a moment, watching the light shift across the ceiling, before finally forcing herself to get up.
The morning room smelled of toasted sesame and something deeply savoury. Tilly had set out a spread that would have been entirely impossible only three months ago.
There were steamed buns nestled in a bamboo basket, a bowl of noodles in a dark, fragrant broth, and thin slices of beef served with a dipping sauce. A dish of rice with furikake and a small plate of pickled vegetables completed the meal.
Morwenna's stomach gave an enthusiastic growl. She climbed into her usual chair and immediately reached for the noodles.
Aldric lowered his morning newspaper, while Seraphina set down her teacup. They watched her eat with the same quiet attention they always gave her now—not with worry, but with a genuine interest in her well-being.
Jack and Jane entered the room a few minutes later; he poured himself a cup of tea while she sat beside her daughter and reached for a steamed bun.
Seraphina folded her hands neatly on the table. "So. How was the appointment yesterday?"
Jack exchanged a quick glance with his wife. "It went well. The goblins were as efficient as ever."
"The weapon testing was the highlight," Jane added, smiling.
Morwenna set her chopsticks down, her face lighting up with excitement. "There were so many weapons," she said, her words coming faster as her hands began to gesture. "They were on the walls, everywhere. I didn't even know what some of them were—chains with heavy weights, rings that hide needles, and even a belt with a hidden blade."
Her cheeks flushed a healthy pink, and her mismatched eyes grew bright. "I threw daggers, knives, and even needles. I hit the target, too. Not every single time, but I did it."
"The smith, Grindelna, watched me the whole time," she continued, her voice rising in pitch. "She said I'm fast and that I should value speed over strength. She also said the Lethifold line is good for concealment while the Veela line is for being seen, and that in me, they don't fight. They layer together."
Aldric's eyebrows rose in surprise. "She told you that?"
The girl nodded enthusiastically before stabbing a piece of beef with her chopsticks. "She said my personal weapon should be a pair of daggers—something small that I can hide. The clan leader weapon will be different, meant for ceremony and war."
She stuffed the beef into her mouth and chewed happily. Seraphina looked over at Jack, who simply offered a small shrug.
"She is happy," Jane say softly.
Morwenna swallowed her food and looked at her empty plate. "I want to play."
She looked from her parents to the window, where the garden was lush and green under a clearing sky. "Not with Cinder," she clarified. "And not with Tilly."
Jane set her tea down carefully. "You want to play with other children."
Morwenna nodded.
Jane was quiet for a moment. "Draco. He is family. And you're both the same age."
Morwenna nodded again. He could be annoying, certainly, but he was a real child or a house-elf.
"We will go together after breakfast," Jane promised.
.
Morwenna dressed herself and took the time to brush her own hair. The black and white strands tangled stubbornly around the bristles, but she worked through them slowly. Jane eventually joined her, carrying a small, neatly wrapped package.
"It's a gift for Narcissa," she explained. "You don't visit someone's home without bringing a token of appreciation."
They walked down to the entrance hall where Jack was already waiting, his travelling cloak draped over one arm. Cinder sat at the bottom of the grand staircase, watching them with wide, expectant eyes.
"Stay," Morwenna told him firmly.
His ears flattened in disappointment, but he obeyed.
.
At the very edge of the Keith territory, the family carriage came to a halt. The trees thinned out and the ancient wards hummed with power as they stepped out onto the grass. Jack took Jane's arm, and Jane took Morwenna's hand.
"Hold tight," Jack cautioned.
The world folded in on itself.
They landed at the edge of a long, gravelled drive. Massive iron gates loomed ahead, featuring the Malfoy crest worked into the bars—a serpent, a peacock, and a star. Beyond the gates, the manor rose grandly from perfectly manicured lawns. The white stone structure was punctuated by tall, elegant windows, and several peacocks moved across the grass with their heavy tails dragging behind them.
As Jack walked forward, the gates swung open without a sound. The front door was made of black oak banded with silver, featuring a serpent carved into the wood with eyes made of glittering emeralds.
Jack knocked, and the door was opened by a house-elf wearing a clean white pillowcase embroidered with the family crest.
"Lord Keith. Lady Keith." The elf's voice was high and incredibly quick as she led them inside.
The entrance hall was vast, featuring black and white marble floors and a staircase that curved up toward a gallery. Portraits of Malfoy ancestors lined the walls, their eyes tracking every movement of the visitors. A massive chandelier of crystal and silver hung from the ceiling, catching the light and scattering it into a thousand fragments.
Narcissa descended the stairs in pale blue robes, her hair falling loose and elegant. Her smile was perfectly precise. "Jane. Jack. Welcome."
She kissed Jane's cheek and shook Jack's hand before turning her attention to the child. "Nimue. Draco is in the garden. He has been waiting for you."
Morwenna offered a polite curtsy. "Thank you, Lady Malfoy."
Narcissa's smile softened just a fraction. "Call me Narcissa, dear."
.
The garden was enclosed by high stone walls, with hedges trimmed into perfect symmetry. A marble fountain stood in the centre, water arcing gracefully from the mouth of a stone serpent.
Draco was standing near a low table that held a small broom. It wasn't a full-sized racing model, but a smaller version with a polished wooden handle and stiff, neat twigs.
He straightened up when he saw her. "You came."
He gestured toward the object on the table. "Do you know what this is?"
"It's a toy broom."
He picked up the small broom and set it on the ground. It rose into the air at once, hovering steadily at about waist height.
"It isn't a toy," Draco corrected her. "My father gave it to me. It is a training broom."
Morwenna studied the object, noting the smooth finish and the controlled way it held itself in the air. "Have you seen one before?" he asked.
"I have flown before," she replied. "With my father, on a real broom. A Nimbus Seventeen Hundred. We went over the lake and through the clouds."
Draco's expression flickered with a hint of jealousy. "That isn't the same."
"It's still flying."
"This is flying, too. Just... smaller."
Morwenna inclined her head slightly. "Smaller," she agreed. "And slower."
A faint flush of irritation crept up Draco's ears. "It is for children," he said, his tone sharpening.
"You are a child," she countered.
He opened his mouth to retort, but he stopped as his jaw tightened. He seemed to struggle for words, his ears turning pinker by the second.
Morwenna felt a small, fleeting sense of satisfaction before her mother's voice echoed in her head, "Be gracious. You're a guest."
"Can I see it?" she asked, softening her tone.
Draco picked up the broom and held it out. When she took it, she found the wood was warm from the sun. The balance was entirely different from her father's Nimbus—much lighter and significantly shorter.
"Where does it fly?"
"Anywhere in the garden," Draco explained. "The wards won't let it go any higher than the treetops."
Morwenna looked up at the sky, where the sun was finally trying to break through the thin clouds. "I will race you."
Draco's eyes narrowed. "You don't have a broom."
"You have more than one."
He stared at her for a moment before walking to a small shed near the wall. He emerged with another broom of the same model, finished in silver paint, and handed it to her.
"One lap around the garden," he challenged. "The fountain is the start and the finish. We go from here to the oak tree and back. If you aren't scared, that is."
"I'm not scared," she said. "Let's race."
They walked out into the main garden area where the oak tree stood at the far end, its branches spreading wide over the lawn.
Morwenna mounted her broom, and while it felt strange and far too light, her body seemed to remember the mechanics. Her hands found the correct grip, and her knees settled comfortably against the wood.
She looked over at Draco, who was watching her with a strange, unreadable expression. "Ready?" she asked.
He began the count. "Three. Two. One. Go!"
They kicked off the ground simultaneously. The training broom was slow compared to what she was used to, but the garden still became a blur of green hedges and splashing water as the peacocks scattered out of their way.
Morwenna leaned into the first turn, and the broom responded eagerly. She pushed it harder, leaning low over the handle just as Jack had taught her.
Draco managed to pull ahead at first, but his turn around the oak tree was far too wide. Morwenna took the turn tight, her knees gripping the handle as her body followed the arc of the wood.
She passed him as they reached the fountain and landed first, her feet hitting the grass as the broom settled beside her. Draco landed a second later, his face red and a strand of hair falling across his forehead.
"I won," Morwenna announced.
"You cheated!"
"How?"
"You have flown before!"
"I told you I had," she pointed out calmly.
He opened his mouth to keep arguing, but then his shoulders slumped in defeat.
"That was fun," she said, surprising him.
He looked up at her. "It was?"
"I haven't ever raced anyone before. Not on brooms."
Draco straightened his shoulders, trying to regain his dignity. "The broom is new. I haven't broken it in yet."
"That isn't how brooms work, Draco."
He glared at her, but she only smiled back. "Again," she challenged.
His mouth twitched, and he couldn't quite hide his growing interest. "Fine. Again."
They raced several more times. Morwenna won the second race, but Draco managed to win the fourth. By the time they finished the fifth, they were both sitting on the damp grass, breathing hard. Draco's hair was an absolute mess.
"Your grandmother, Seraphina," he said suddenly. "She is a Black."
"From a side branch, yes."
"We are still cousins, then." He looked at her thoughtfully. "That is strange."
Morwenna considered the sprawling Black family tree—the many branches that had split and scattered over the centuries. "It's just how families work," she said.
Draco was quiet for a moment before standing up and brushing off his robes. "One more race."
Morwenna stood as well. "You will lose."
"Maybe."
As the children mounted their brooms once more, Narcissa watched them from the terrace with Jane standing beside her. They listened in silence as the high, bright voices of the children carried across the manicured garden.
"She is remarkably competitive," Narcissa observed.
Jane watched Morwenna laugh at something Draco said. "She gets that from her father."
Narcissa's mouth curved into a small smile. "Draco doesn't have many friends his own age. At least, not real ones."
"He has one now," Jane replied.
The children's laughter rose again, sounding sharp, and full of life. Jane couldn't help but smile.