Chương 84: Ch78- Summon

The moment they were clear of the hut, Bathsheda latched onto his ear, twisting hard.

"So you think you are clever and funny, huh?" Cassian winced, reaching up to pry her fingers off.

"Ow... alright, alright! I deserved that."

"Deserved more than that," she muttered, letting go.

"Egg hunts? Do you know how many stairs I've climbed in wet slippers?"

"Could've used a broom," he said with a faint grin.

"Efficiency, Bathsheda. You've got to think ahead." She shot him a glare.

"If I had, you'd be decorating the ceiling."

"Fair." Cassian tucked his hands into his robes, glancing back at the hut.

"In my defence, I wasn't planning for a dragon hatchling to hijack the evening. The eggs were supposed to end with a bit of champagne and smug laughter on my part."

"Smug laughter? You?" She snorted.

"Shock of the century."

"Alright, point taken." His grin softened.

"But admit it... you liked the challenge." Bathsheda slowed her pace slightly, tugging her robe tighter against the chill.

"Liked? Oh, absolutely. Nothing says romance like being slimed by mystery eggs and a chase across the castle all day."

"See, I knew you would come around." She let out a dry laugh.

"Don't test me, Rosier. I've still got enough goo in my hair to drown you in." Cassian raised his hands in mock surrender.

"Noted. No more romantic egg hunts... this week." Bathsheda side-eyed him.

"I am holding you to that." They rounded the corner into a quieter corridor.

"Do you really think that binding worked?" she asked after a beat, her tone lower now. Cassian glanced at her arm, where the faint outline of the rune still pulsed under her sleeve.

"Worked? It bloody well did." Her lips pressed into a thin line.

"Feels strange. Like there is something curled up under my skin."

"Because there is," Cassian said lightly.

"Congratulations, you are officially a dragon nursery."

"Merlin help me," she muttered. Cassian smirked.

"It could be worse. At least it can't set your hair on fire." Bathsheda shot him a withering look.

"You are one bad joke away from me testing how fireproof you are." He chuckled, unbothered.

"For history? I would take the risk."

"You historians are all the same," she said, shaking her head.

"Not all of us," Cassian replied, his grin fading slightly.

"Some would've locked it away in a vault and called it a day. But this is real magic. Living, breathing history." Bathsheda eyed him sideways, catching the faint something in his expression... excitement, awe, maybe both.

"You are like a kid on Christmas morning."

"Don't ruin the moment," he said, but the wide smile said otherwise. They reached the main stairwell. Cassian slowed, catching movement ahead just as Snape swept out of the shadows with his robes billowing behind him. Malfoy was a step behind, shivering in his boots.

"Pot—" Snape started, then stopped short. His eyes flicked between Bathsheda and Cassian, narrowing as if a hawk sighting prey.

"Professor Babbling," he said sharply. His gaze slid to Cassian.

"Rosier." Cassian grinned, rocking back on his heels.

"Severus. Where's the trouble? Or are you simply practising your dramatic exits?" Snape's lip curled.

"Unlike some, I don't spend my evenings chasing games across the castle." Cassian tilted his head, feigning thought.

"Shame. You would be brilliant at it. The cloak's got the perfect swoosh for the job." Malfoy smirked faintly at that, then schooled his face the second Snape glanced his way. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it. Snape's eyes lingered on him, then flicked briefly to Cassian.

"Hagrid," he said at last.

"It seems he's been keeping... interesting company in his hut. I am on my way to confirm." Cassian tilted his head, lips curling in amusement.

"What company? I was just there. No one else but Professor Babbling and me." Snape's frown deepened. His black eyes flicked from Cassian's face to Bathsheda, seeing no lie. Cassian met the look without so much as a twitch. He turned his attention on Malfoy.

"Well?" Malfoy's jaw clenched, "I swear I heard them! Potter, Granger, and Weasley, they were planning to go there. I was on my way to check when..."

"Ah," Cassian cut in, a low chuckle escaping as he folded his arms.

"So you are the blonde blur I saw sprinting off earlier. Past curfew, lingering outside... tut tut, Mr Malfoy. Didn't think you would make such a habit of skulking about." Malfoy flushed, his mouth opening and closing, wanting to argue but couldn't think of anything to say. Snape's gaze narrowed further, "Mr Malfoy."

"I- I am telling the truth," Malfoy insisted, though his voice wavered slightly now.

"They were there. Or at least... I thought they were." Cassian grinned big.

"And here I thought Slytherins prided themselves on their cunning. Confessing rule-breaking in front of three Professors." Bathsheda hid her smile with the back of her hand.

"Enough," Snape snapped, his tone cutting through the tension. His eyes pinned Cassian again.

"If Potter and his little entourage were there, and you are covering for them...

""Severus," Cassian said lightly, "if I caught Potter and his friends, trust me, you would have heard about it already. Probably with a detention slip in your hand." Snape's lip curled, though he said nothing. Cassian tilted his head toward Malfoy.

"Now, unless you've got something more solid than eavesdropped whispers, I would say your little midnight investigation has come to a rather embarrassing end." Malfoy's cheeks flamed red. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, studying the flagstones. Cassian held Bathsheda's arm as they started toward the castle.

"Oh, and don't forget to punish Mr Malfoy," he said over his shoulder.

"Past curfew, wandering the school grounds. Whatever you imagined you would throw at Potter should suffice." Snape's eyes narrowed, the corners of his mouth twitching like he was biting back a retort. Malfoy's lips parted as if to protest, but Snape's grumble shut him up.

"Rosier," Snape said, voice tight, "your sense of humour is wasted in these halls."

"Debatable," Cassian shot back, not stopping. Malfoy scowled at their backs as the pair slipped through the nearest doorway. She shot him a sharp look but didn't slow her pace.

"One of these days, Cass, your mouth is going to get you cursed."

"One of these days, Baths, you're going to admit you enjoy this." She snorted a laugh, shaking her head.

"The only thing I am enjoying right now is imagining Snape punishing his favourite student with whatever he prepared for Potter."

"Ah, there it is." Cassian gave her an approving nod.

"Knew you had it in you." When they got back to the room, Bathsheda didn't even give him a chance to follow. She made a beeline for the bath, slammed the door behind her and locked it with a charm so thorough he reckoned not even a ghost could pass through. Cassian stared at the door for a long moment.

"Right. Guess I will just... rot out here then, shall I?" he muttered.

"Banished to the hallway because I covered her in eggs. Unreasonable." No answer. Typical. He flopped onto her bed with a long-suffering groan, rolling onto his back. His mind turned in circles, all sharp edges and half-formed connections. Two summers ago... Yrsa. And now this, today, a Norwegian Ridgeback hatchling had curled up at Bathsheda's feet like she was its mother.

Cassian stared at the ceiling, arms folded behind his head, trying to work out if the universe was laughing at him or setting up a punchline he hadn't caught yet. The rune he'd drawn on her arm earlier was one of the few runes he remembered from that vision, seared into his memory. He'd scoured every inch of every archive he could get his hands on... pored over brittle scrolls, scribbled translations on napkins.

He spent nearly all his savings bribing almost every rune master in the China expedition to copy some of their older documents, yet found nothing. There were rune masters from at least twenty nations present... And today? Today he proved it wasn't a madman's fever dream. Coincidence? Maybe. But Cassian had stopped believing in those a long time ago. He blew out a breath and let his head flop back against the mattress. The stone ceiling stared down at him.

The last time he felt this itch in his bones was back in China, elbows deep in a dig site no sane man would touch. And now here he was. Hogwarts. A thousand-year-old castle full of homicidal staircases and a dragon tethered to his lover's bloodstream. Brilliant. He heard the splash of water from the bathroom. Bathsheda was probably scrubbing herself raw to get rid of whatever egg slime he dumped on her earlier. Fair enough. The door creaked open before he could finish his internal berating.

Bathsheda stepped out, wrapped in a thick towel, her hair plastered to her face. She looked unimpressed.

"You are still here?" she asked, voice flat.

"Where else would I be?" he said, sitting up with a faint grin.

"The corridor's draughty. Thought you would take pity on me."

"Pity is not the word I would use," she said, crossing the room.

"Admiration, then?" She rolled her eyes.

"You are lucky I didn't hex you bald." He rose and opened his arms, she let him close the distance.

"You wouldn't like me bald," he said, voice warm against her ear. He reached for the towel's edge, her slap landed before he got close.

"Hands off, Rosier." He grinned.

"Just making sure you didn't hide an egg in there." She deadpaned "Try it again and you will be eating your next meal through a straw." Cassian chuckled, brushing his thumb along her damp arm.

"Worth it." Bathsheda huffed and stepped back, yanking the towel tighter around her chest.

"You are impossible."

"That is why you keep me around." He leaned against the bedpost, arms folded, watching her with that same maddeningly smug expression. She glared and pointed at the door.

"Out. I need to change, and you've lost all privileges after today's little stunt."

"Alright, alright. I am going," he said, holding his hands up. As Cassian was about to turn into his rooms for the night, a silver tabby cat burst through the wall. Its tail lashed before it opened its mouth.

"Professor Rosier. My office. Now." McGonagall's voice carried through the Patronus.