The Sybil's Oracle Book TwoChapter 33By Pigwidgeon37
Although he would have preferred to stay in his quarters at Halloween,
Severus had to participate at the feast and following dance. Every attempt
at convincing Dumbledore that in times like these, when almost every student
had lost a more or less close relative, festivities were a frivolity had
failed, and thus there was to be a feast and a ball. The Headmaster
stubbornly kept to his opinion that the students were, after all, teenagers
and therefore had to be offered an occasion to behave accordingly. For once,
Severus and McGonagall had been on the same side, if for different reasons;
but to no avail. ~~~~*~~~~ "You are really fond of mashed potatoes, aren't you, Sev?" Amanda Hooch, sitting at his right, watched him gouge an intricate irrigation system into the yellow mass with his spoon.Severus glowered at her. "Yes. And don't call me Sev." Eyebrows darting upwards, she grinned. "But Mr. Malfoy called you Sev." "That," he snapped, reaching for the gravy, "is different." "Different? Are you two." She made a rather unambiguous gesture with her right hand. "Of course not," he said icily. "But we used to share a dormitory for seven years. That makes a difference, I daresay." "Do you think you'd have to bite off your tongue before calling him your friend?" "He is not my friend," Severus said defensively, "And now kindly let me eat." She smiled at him, yellowish eyes flickering with mirth. "Not your friend? You acted chummy enough." "I hardly think that Lucius and I could ever behave chummy," he retorted between two bites of potatoes. "Mmh." She eyed him pensively. "He's a damn good flyer." Lowering his fork, he glared at her. "Amanda, I'm in no mood for talking. Neither about Lucius nor about anything else. Could you please respect that?" "No," she said and pinched a forkful from his plate. "I don't think so. He was a Chaser, wasn't he?" "Listen, Amanda. If you're so interested in Malfoy, why don't you just Apparate to his house and talk to him?" When he saw the glint in her eyes, he somehow had the feeling of having walked into a trap, although he was not sure what it was. He did not have to wait long until he found out. "I'm not interested in Malfoy," she murmured, and, to his utter horror, he felt her left leg brush against his thigh. "Come on, Sev, ask the logical question." He shifted his chair to the left. "Attention," she purred, "Or you'll be cuddling up to Black." He could feel the rage building up inside him. That old, well-known feeling, part arousal and part fury, that washed through him whenever he felt helpless and compelled. That blind desire to smash his head against the obstacle, to destroy and rip apart. And, as always, the beast had to be kept in check. He sensed his stomach contract and pushed away his plate. "Leave. Me. In. Peace!" he hissed. Something wild flashed up in her eyes. "Such a lot of energy," she purred, "and all wasted. We could put that to better use, you know?" It was more than innuendo. It was a flat-out come-on, an unveiled invitation. Severus cringed. So far, his sexual experience was limited, to say the least. His first encounter with Nathalie, and then the night of badly-needed relaxation and complete physical exhaustion with the prostitute. He had been walking on a gossamer thread before that second time, his life and nerves and barely-kept composure shrieking with tension; whereas now, he felt as if he were moving through viscous morass, dragging at his feet and keeping him from moving onwards. The situation could not have been more different. The offer was tempting, though, maybe too alluring for his own good. For he could see the possible consequences-the emotional involvement that might catch and swallow her like a flesh-eating plant would do with a fly. She might talk about it, to Black, or whoever else. And there was his still-lingering repugnance to being touched. With Nathalie, he had been in control, had been able to determine exactly what he wanted and when. The whore did not count-her touch was like the touch of a leaf or a blade of grass; it could be felt but had no consequences. With this woman though. He was not sure. She was strong, and not just physically. She might want control, and he was not willing to yield what little command over himself he still possessed to anybody. The yellowish eyes narrowed, and she said, "This prolonged silence is extremely unflattering, you know?" "If you crave immediate consent, you ought to announce your needs to my left-hand neighbour," he retorted, deliberately harsh. "My needs? I think yours are not less urgent." "I. have my reasons," he said. He could feel his decision waver. It would not be much better than alcohol, and he would have to be naked, to let himself be touched. But it was also a thousand times more physical and immediate. Brutal, if needed. "Oh, I'm sure you do. Just in case you are doubting my discretion: I won't tell. If you don't believe me, you can obliviate me. The choice is yours." She rose smoothly from her chair and went to assist McGonagall in banishing the students' tables to the walls, so as to make room for the dance. Severus, feeling as if he had just awoken from a bizarre dream, got up as well. He had volunteered to patrol the corridors and ground, in order to prevent the school's hormone-ridden inmates from procreating amidst the bushes or in unused classrooms. This occupation certainly suited him better than dancing. ~~~~*~~~~ As he prowled the corridors noiselessly, he was reminded of Esmeralda. His sleek black cat, roaming the garden in search of mice and beetles, wearing her collar. The collar that was now probably slung around Clarissa's wrist. Wherever Clarissa was. While he was moving, cat-like, through his territory that was not really his, borrowed maybe, but never home. He had arrived at the dungeons, near the Slytherin quarters, almost exactly at the spot where, years-lives?-ago, he and Lucius had overheard the whispered dialogue between Black and Potter. When he first heard the whisper, he believed for a moment that the spirits of the past had come to haunt him. The soft rustle of his dress robes against the polished flagstones of the corridor drowned out the faint noise, and so he stopped to listen. Yes, the voices were there, undoubtedly. They were not even bothering to whisper, just muttering. He cast Sensacutus and an Invisibility Spell and slowly, cautiously, sneaked nearer the source of the noise. Somehow, he was sure that those were not students. Otherwise he would not have gone to the trouble of making himself invisible. Another ten steps till the next corner, and he came to a halt again. With the help of Sensacutus, the words were easily distinguishable.The feeling of déjà vu grew stronger when he recognized the male voice. Black. "Did I already tell you how absolutely ravishing you look tonight?" The man had not changed by a single iota. Severus remembered only too well how the Gryffindor had made advances to Tabitha, exactly five years ago. In almost the same words. Certainly Black did not invest his energy in creativity. Knowing Black, Severus was not even sure whether he was talking to a man or woman. Although the adjective 'ravishing' seemed to suggest it was a woman. probably. He or she did not answer. Could anybody be so smitten by that cheap display of ready-made charm that speech fled them? No, definitely not by his words. Severus heard the faint whisper of fabric sliding over fabric, and the softest of moans. It was most certainly female. Maybe a student, he thought-that would really be more than good luck. "Sirius." Severus felt himself go rigid. He knew that voice. Then again, a little more urgent. "Sirius, don't you think we should move away from here? Just imagine if somebody runs in on us." Mathilda. Without any doubt. Black chuckled. "I don't think so. However, your wish is my command. Your place or mine?" Severus could distinctly hear her intake of breath. "That.that was not what I meant, Sirius. I don't think I'm ready to-" "Oh, yes, my dear, you are." Severus felt suddenly sick. Not that he was worried about Mathilda's virtue or well-being; after all, she was old enough and could take care of herself. No, it was that uncanny sensation of a spider's web being spun around him, to catch and suffocate him. He had never told Mathilda more than he would have confided to a complete stranger. But Black was trying to insert his greedy tentacles into chinks and dents of Severus's armour, trying to penetrate, to pry open, to get at him. Was he doing Dumbledore's bidding? Carefully, holding his breath, Severus retreated and, once he found himself at a safe distance, removed the two spells. He needed to think, and he needed fresh air. And that was about the only thing he knew for sure. ~~~~*~~~~ It was cool outside. The chilly air did nothing to calm him; on the contrary, it enhanced his feeling of being hot. His forehead was burning, and his body felt like a furnace in the crisp air that already smelled of snow. Without paying attention to students or their possible amorous antics, Severus sank onto a stone bench and tried to get his breathing and heart rate down to a reasonable level. This was just plain paranoia, he told himself. Nothing else. The just punishment, according to the law of retaliation. You were a spy, therefore you thought that everybody else was spying on you. He buried his head in his hands, fearing for his sanity. Yes, he had lost his anchoring point and was drifting through cold, hostile space without anything to guide him. He would have rejected any offer of company, but loneliness pierced his heart and held his respiration in an icy grip.After a long time, he lifted his head and saw Amanda Hooch standing a few yards away, leaning against the trunk of a weather-beaten larch, arms crossed, a sardonic smile lightening her cat-like features. "Moping?" she asked. The mocking tone of her voice made him angry, but at least it pulled him out of his desolation. "Shut up!" he spat irritably. "And kindly respect other people's need for privacy." "Kindly? You should have understood by now that I'm by no means a kind person." She pushed off the trunk, irritably yanking free a fold of her dress robes that had got caught in the rough bark, and stalked towards him. "Come on," she said and held her right hand out to him. "You need a drink and. well, after that, we'll see." Silently, he shook his head. She remained where she was, the hand still hovering in front of his face. "Amanda," he said, fighting for control, "you'd better go before I blast you into oblivion. I'm not in a particularly friendly mood." "I have never seen you in a mood that could be called friendly, and I doubt I'd even recognize it in you. Come on now, you can't sit here all night- what would the students think?" "I am more concerned about what they would think if they saw you drag me into your lair." But he got up, so that he stood close to her. He was almost one foot taller-it did not seem to intimidate her, though. "No need to worry." She grinned up at him. Her canines were very pointed, he noticed now; it somehow underlined her feline appearance. "I cast a privacy charm." "Ah," he mocked, "So you know what the word means, after all." "If I choose to. Come on, you must be cold." Without exchanging another word, they walked back towards the castle and to the teachers' quarters. What was this all about, Severus wondered. From the moment he had returned to his rooms until now, this evening had had a strange, oneiric quality, as if. As if he were looking at his surroundings from a slightly different angle, out of different eyes, so that what was known and well-worn by daily contact took on a new meaning, and appearances shifted infinitesimally. He was not aware of any danger, though; there was nothing hostile lurking behind this rather surprising encounter. His Dark Mark was well-hidden under a special concealment charm Lucius had taught him-he had needed it during the first times of his marriage, when Narcissa had not yet been privy to the many secrets of her husband. It resisted a Finite Incantatem cast by another person than himself. And all the same, he was deeply troubled. They had arrived at the teachers' quarters and walked down a narrow side corridor until they came to an inconspicuous door. No carvings, no ornaments; only an A and an H of heavy brass, attached to the wood, indicated whose rooms lay behind it. She spelled it open-the first time he had ever seen her use a wand, he noticed-and preceded him to light the candles. No, he thought, stepping over the threshold and looking around, this was definitely not what one might call feminine. No pinks, no frills, no bric-à-brac; no flowers, he realized, almost with a sigh of relief. Their scent would surely have given him a headache. The whole space breathed an air of cosy-but-practical. It surprised him that the squashy- looking divan and armchairs were not grouped in front of the fireplace but in a corner. All the same, the hearth seemed to be the centre of her home: on the floor, just far enough away that flying sparks would cause no damage, a thick oriental rug was spread out, and on it sat a pile of sheepskins. Severus noticed a stack of books in its close vicinity, and also a bottle of brandy. "I'm not much of a couch type," she said, thus confirming his assumptions. "Unlike the rest of you, I spend my day sitting on a broomstick and therefore prefer stretching out to sitting down yet again. Come on, get rid of those robes and make yourself comfortable." She had already shed her dress robes of coral-red, heavy shantung silk, and was now standing before him in a kind of trouser suit, Chinese style, of the same material. The room was warm, and he was beginning to feel uncomfortably hot; so he took off the garment and flung it over the backrest of a nearby chair. "Want some brandy?" she asked. "Yes, please." He stood and glanced at his surroundings, feeling exposed like a mollusc in a shell that was not its own. "Oh, do sit down!" She was returning with two large snifters and bent down to pick up the brandy bottle. "Or is standing in the middle of the room your idea of getting comfortable?" Wordlessly, he shook his head and folded his lanky frame into a cross- legged position on the carpet. When she handed him a glass, he took it with a nod and inhaled the sweetly pungent aroma. Goblet and contents were still cool to the touch, therefore he cradled it in his hand, its stem tucked between his middle and ring fingers. His eyes were fixed on the swirling golden liquid. "You don't seem very much at your ease," she said, curling up near him, leaning against the sheepskins. "Why should I?" He raised his eyes to look at her. The texture of her clothes, and the flickering shadows cast by the flames in the fireplace- they were the only source of light, now that she had re-extinguished the candles-emphasized her lean, muscular form. Her body was a strange mixture of edges and curves, and again he was reminded of Clarissa. Had she been able to further pursue her Quidditch career, she might have turned out just like this. Only her breasts would probably never have become so full. "You are staring," she said after a while. It did not seem to annoy or unsettle her, though. He merely downed the last of his brandy, without ceasing his contemplation of her body, and held out his glass for a refill. "What do you do all day long?" he suddenly asked. "You don't have to grade homework, or prepare lesson plans." "Envious?" she said and chuckled. "Not really, no. Just curious." "How endearing. Well, to satisfy your curiosity: I read a lot, I'm currently learning, or rather trying to learn, Russian-" "Why on earth would you do that?" he asked, interested in spite of himself. "There are translation spells." "Of course, I know that. But, to tell you the truth, I've never been very good with a wand. I'm one hell of a flier, Herbology and Magizoology has always come natural to me, but wandwork was and is by biggest weakness. Therefore I don't really trust my translation spells." "I see. And why Russian?" She shrugged. "Because it's so vastly different, I suppose. All those guttural sounds. I feel like a big, purring cat when I pronounce them." "Yes," he agreed, "that must suit you. You are quite cat-like after all." As soon as these words had left his mouth, he knew that he had had a little too much alcohol. Not that he was drunk; but some of his inner knots had come loose. She must have noticed it, too, for she scooted closer to him and mustered him from under half-closed lids. In the mellow half-light, her irises had turned amber. "Indeed," she muttered, tracing a line from the hollow of his throat down to the waistband of his trousers with her left forefinger. "And you, Sev? What animal are you?" The next sip of brandy would make him definitely tipsy-he had eaten far too little at dinner for his system to handle the alcohol well. He downed the contents of his glass and put it on the floor. "You tell me," he said. And pounced, nailing her to the carpeted floor with his whole weight. She could have fought him off rather easily, he thought when he felt those wiry, slim muscles under the silk. But she did not. Neither did she yield and soften; there was energy purring directly under her skin, crouched, alert and ready to strike if necessary. For the time being, however, she seemed quite content in her position underneath him. And something had been unleashed within him; a spring had suddenly uncoiled, setting free a rush of energy-neither destructive nor hostile. But it burned, hot and consuming and wanting to consume. It spread out into his tongue and legs and hands, and then back into his groin, to cause him an aching erection. She was moaning and panting, and so was he-he only noticed that fleetingly, in some unimportant part of his mind where the sounds arrived muffled by passion and heat. Severus felt her fingers tangling in his hair, her nails scratching over his still-clothed back with a faint screeching noise; and he sensed her writhing, hungry movements under him, against him. They both tasted of brandy, and on her tongue he could detect the last vestiges of cigarette. Still holding on to her neck with his left hand and pinning her down with his body, his right thigh firmly wedged between her legs, he managed to unbutton her jacket. She did not wear anything underneath; there was just hot flesh and the swell of her breasts, nipples hard and dark-brown-red. Without bothering to free her entirely of the garment, he bent down to take as much of the breast into his mouth as possible, sucking hard, while his right hand slid down between her legs where she was hot and damp. He was probably hurting her-not that this was a conscious thought, he rather felt it, on some dark animalistic level-but she seemed to enjoy it all the same and did not struggle or try to push him off. On the contrary: her hands crept to his chest and began to unfasten the buttons of his shirt, and then he felt her fingertips move over exposed skin, stroking and grazing and tickling. It was a kind of drunkenness; the brandy had merely triggered it, been only a catalyst that set free Severus's reaction. His guards were still up, the visor still firmly in place-this frantic tumble was taking place on a deeper level. Deeper than emotions, even. It was pure instinct that made him grab his wand and pronounce Disvestio spells to undress them both, instantly, without any more fumbling with clasps or fastenings. Once naked, he did not even bother to look at her body. Too strong was to urge to possess and subdue. He was already on top of her, between her legs, and thus a small change of position was sufficient for him to get where he wanted and thrust into her, one hand under her neck and the other at the small of her back. Both cried out at the forceful contact that was more an invasion, not violent but brutal. For a moment, he had to remain motionless to cope with the assault of that strange mix between tension and relief, but then she urged him on by lifting her hips and pulling his head down for a ferocious kiss. He felt her legs, firm and strong, encircle his hips, while her arms came around his shoulders and back, massaging a sensitive spot right above his buttocks. With a groan, he grabbed her more fiercely and thrust again, into hot wet yielding flesh, biting her neck and shoulders, making her scream in a mix of pain and pleasure. They were close to the fireplace, and soon their bodies became slick with sweat in the blazing heat. His right hand left her back to venture further down, clench her thigh and squeeze those wiry muscles, hard. She gave a whimper of pleasure, and Severus opened his eyes-hers were half-closed, lids fluttering, and she was biting down on her lower lip. Pearls of perspiration pooled in the cleft of her upper lip; he licked them off with a greedy swipe of his tongue, then traced the outline of her mouth, forcing her to release her lip, so that he could enter her here, too, and mimic the movements of his cock inside her. He had expected this coupling to be short, just a quick fulfilment of needs he had not been conscious of having: But it lasted-how long, he was not sure; and when he had finally found release, with a strangled cry into her neck, just below her ear, he was completely and utterly exhausted. Slowly, he loosened his iron grip on her shoulder and hip and opened his eyes again, having squeezed them shut in the throes of his orgasm. She was panting under him, moving her head left and right as if to ease the tension of her muscles. When the haze of passion and heat and fulfilled need was finally leaving his brain, Severus became acutely aware that he was naked and in close contact with another body. Her hands were still resting on his skin, he was still on top of her, with her legs curled around his. The urge to break free instantly was overwhelming, but he kept it in check and tried to fight the rising panic. Propping himself up on his elbows, he felt something hard against his left forearm. His wand. For a moment he hesitated but then decided that he had to get out of this room, away from her, and back into his quarters. Lowering his head to kiss her, he let his hair form a curtain around their faces, edged his fingers towards the wand and felt a wave of reassurance roll over him when his hand finally closed around the familiar wood. He broke the kiss, pointed the wand at her and muttered "Stupefy!" Her whole body sagged, like a rag doll soaked with water. Severus rose to his knees, wincing at the soreness of his muscles, and stared down at her. In a way, he felt even grateful, but all the same, she must not have any memories of this incident. So he performed a cleaning charm to remove the semen that was trickling out of her and slowly dripping on the carpet; then, on second thought, he also added a contraceptive charm-better safe than sorry, just in case she did not take any contraceptive potions-and finally dressed her again with a wave of his wand and a last muttered spell. When he had got to his feet and put on his clothes, slowly and without the aid of magic, he moved her to her previous position, leaning against the pile of sheepskins. This accomplished, he filled her tumbler to the brim with brandy and splashed the liquid into the fireplace, where it landed with a hiss, making the flames turn blue for a fleeting moment. The last, and most important, task that remained was wiping her memory. Severus concentrated hard, focusing his thoughts on what he desired her to forget and pronounced "Obliviate!" Finally, he woke her with a quick "Enervate!" and, while she was still shaking off the dizziness, quickly slipped his wand into his left sleeve. "Amanda," he called, gently patting her cheek, "Amanda, wake up! I'm tired and have to leave. Watching your sleep isn't as much fun as you seem to believe." "Gods!" she said, passing a hand over her eyes, "I'm sorry, Sev. Oh bloody hell, my neck!" He looked down at her with a sardonic smile. "Small wonder, my dear. You had an enormous amount of brandy. Alcohol is a powerful relaxant, and you fell asleep in a somewhat distorted position. I should have woken you earlier, but have to admit that I dozed off as well." She stretched, cat-like as always, and yawned. "Well," she said finally, "That was definitely not how I wanted this to go, but then." She gave him a quizzical look. "This was only the first time, not the last." "Indeed," Severus agreed, getting to his feet. He picked up his dress robes and threw them over his shoulder. "I really have to go now, Amanda. There are classes to be taught tomorrow, and I should not look too crumpled. And I need to concentrate on keeping those little bastards in line. Good night, and thanks for the brandy." She smiled up at him, holding out her hand which he took and squeezed briefly. "Good night, Sev. Sweet dreams." He nodded and gave her a dutiful smile, then strode towards the door. The corridor outside was half-dark and empty. Severus slipped out, once more grateful for the sound-muffling charm on his shoes, and quickly walked back to his quarters |