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For good measure, Magdalene thanked the stars for the enormous fortune that Sam had discarded her drenched shoes after she'd made her way to the dormitories.

“So what you’re saying is…” Sam shook her head in obvious disbelief, but Magdalene was done pussyfooting around the issue.

“What I’m saying is, I’m not at all certain you’re the one these attacks have been aimed at.”

Well, if there’d been even an inkling of doubt left in Magdalene’s mind that Sam posed any kind of threat to her, the way her jaw dropped and her hands went limp at her sides, told a story in itself.

Since Fenway, in her 20 years at the school, had never availed herself of the Headmistress' apartment, but rather lived in a nearby cottage, Magdalene supposed Sam hadn't considered that Magdalene, too, lived in the faculty dorm and was staying right down the hall. Or, for that matter, that what had been happening was possibly directed at the new headmistress and someone might be trying to overtly harm her.

The sincerity in the astonishment on that angular face was endearing, and Magdalene bit her lip because no, she did not want to be ensorcelled. She did not want to find this woman adorable. Or cute. Or pretty much irresistible.Absolutely not.

“It’s not that far-fetched, Sam. But since it’s clear that you seem unconvinced, humor me for a second here. What’s your relationship with David Uttley?”

Comically, as if on cue, Sam’s mouth dropped open again, and despite her clear efforts to close it, Sam was not entirely successful. When she finally found her voice, it was tinged with disbelief.

“You think David Uttley, the guy who keeps asking me out and helps me run the Debate Club, is my occasional marathon training partner and the one person on this staff who is not prone to histrionics, is somehow trying to… What? Hurt me? Because I refuse to date him?”

Sam was clearly not yet grasping that she was not the target of the attacks. She was too nice, too compassionate, and too loyal. Magdalene tried to remain dispassionate, or at least maintain the veneer of it, and schooled her features. But the beginning of Sam’s reply, especially the part that confirmed Uttley was pursuing her, made her see green.

If she hadn't been angry, she’d consider the irony of Sam bringing out these things in her, bookending this evening that had started with her vision going gray with it turning green now. The things this woman did to her…

But she was too upset, and Sam’s disinterest in him was the saving grace. Magdalene’s jaw had relaxed slightly by the time Sam finished speaking.

Still, Uttley’s pursuit of Sam did give him a motive. Sam might think they were being so subtle in how they circled each other, a teacher and a Headmistress, but Magdalene knew that a keen observer would be able to see the signs of this undercurrent between them.

She chose to let the entire thing with Uttley go. For now. There was no need to rile up Sam even more after the night she’d had.

“I don’t mean to insinuate anything. I’m just trying to understand what’s happening, because by absolutely everyone’s accounts, Sam Threadneedle is a regular Pollyanna, beloved and adored and cherished. I, on the other hand, am not.”

Sam tried to interject, but Magdalene pushed through.

“Sam, I’ve had veiled threats and dead rats sent to me. Why do you think it is unreasonable that anyone, maybe even some Old Dragonette, or one of the current ones for that matter, would wish me harm?”

Sam’s shoulder tensed. “Well, wishing you harm and sending you dead plants and rodents—though highly gross and horribly wrong—is quite a step from getting you electrocuted.”

Magdalene chose to remain silent, standing still and watching the storm rage outside. She took a breath, then another, desperate to calm the tempest inside her, so similar to the one outside.

The floorboards creaked, and after a few seconds, she felt a careful hand on her rigid shoulder. She desperately clung to the rage, because the earlier want, the earlier vulnerability and craving for connection, for understanding, for touch, were sure to overcome her at any minute. And Sam… Sam was the embodiment of everything Magdalene desired and shouldn’t have. Couldn’t have, really.

“I’m not excusing anyone, because the conclusions we have arrived at just now are pretty awful. But you do have to admit that some of the reforms you’re proposing at Dragons are threatening the livelihood of a lot of people—”

If Sam had slapped her, she would have been hurt less. And less surprised. The pain was like lightning, burning her from the inside, leaving a husk of pure, fiery anger.

“And so I deserve to die?” She knew she reflected that anguish, and beyond anything now, she had wanted to save what little dignity she had left. This woman had already seen way too much, had already glimpsed into the depths of her soul, and Magdalene felt she had nothing left to give. Not right now.

She tried to press past Sam, only to have her hold on to her wrist, her head tilted, obviously asking for permission and mindful of consent even when both of them were falling apart.

And so Magdalene gave in, unable to—in spite of everything—resist the earnest gaze and the sincere regret in those gray eyes. She nodded, and Sam tugged at her forearm until Magdalene was enveloped in lanky arms, in a firm yet gentle grip.

“I’m so sorry. I apologize for the inadequacy of my words. And the cruelty and carelessness you perceived in them. That is not what I meant. I mean, no matter how you slice it, this is all rather horrible, and you’re in danger because of the nature of your job and the responsibility you took on. I’m worried about you.”

Sam’s trademark honesty only packed more punch into the already heavy blow to Magdalene’s vulnerability. And she was weak and pliant in those arms, wanting nothing but to lean in fully and allow Sam to soothe her, to comfort her. To save her. She wanted to shake her head at herself, but Sam’s voice was pulling her further in, making her feel safe, despite everything around them having a jagged edge of danger.

“You are cutting into a living organism here with Dragons, both old and new, and this organism is obviously outraged. But you know this. I just want you to be safe and careful. And if that means giving in on some of the things you’re trying to do…”

Well, they had come too close to that sharp edge, and the knife sliced deep. Magdalene stiffened and rolled her shoulders. Sam immediately let her go, but she didn’t move entirely out of the embrace, just far enough to glare daggers right at Sam. How could this woman go from tender and understanding, seemingly seeing right through her, to stubborn and utterly impossible in the span of a few seconds?

“You’d love that, wouldn’t you? For me to bargain with my principles and spare some of the outdated and horribly mismanaged vestiges of the so-called old you are all clinging to? I won’t do it, Sam. I will quit before I agree to this. I will do everything that is necessary to drag this school back to where it belongs. And I will not back down because somebody is too cowardly to confront me and speak their displeasure to my face.”