Heroes (Edit, Not Update)

Chapter 18 ~ Heading Out

At eleven o’clock, Artimus departed Severus’ environs after several very challenging games of Wizarding Chess, of which he managed to win two games. Snape won four and one was a draw. However, the game itself was chaos because although in the beginning, Artimus’ pieces moved, after seven minutes they stopped and became regular pieces.

Severus’ men were still animated however. This resulted in Artimus’ pieces being pulverized every time Severus took one, and at the end of each game, Artimus had to withdraw from the table for seven minutes, so his pieces could animate and repair themselves. Snape found it interesting that only the pieces Artimus used lost their magical ability although his own pieces were in close proximity to the sorcerer.

The two magicians shook hands and Kreacher winked Artimus down to the dungeons, then retired. Artimus let himself in, then latched the door behind him with his wand. The fireplace burned low and the living room was dark. A glow came from the bedroom.

”Dahlia?” he called.

”In here, Artimus,” Dahlia called back.

Artimus walked into the bedroom to see Dahlia in the four-poster bed, her hair pinned up and dressed in a long, silk nightgown, that softly accentuated her curves as she lay sexily on her side, looking at him, her full lips curved in a slight smile. Candles rested on the dresser and the mirror was covered with a sheet.

Hm.

”Did you have a nice visit with the Headmaster?” she asked him, slowly easing to the side of the bed, swinging her legs over the edge and rising, walking toward him slowly.

Artimus’ eyes slowly drifting down her body, in the warm light.

”I enjoyed myself,” he said as she walked up to him and wrapped her arms around his waist.

”That’s good,” she said softly. She smelled of soap and cleanliness. Artimus wrapped his arms around her as well, pulling her soft body against his and smoothing his hands up her back slowly.

”I’ve been neglecting you,” he said to her, kissing her forehead.

”I don’t feel neglected, Artimus . . . especially right now,” she replied, kissing his mouth.

Artimus made a little sound as those soft lips connected with his own, warm and sensuous. As she kissed him he slowly began to pull the pins out of her hair, letting them drop to the floor. The sorcerer knew Dahlia had pinned it up purposely because he couldn’t resist letting it down. Anytime he came to her and her hair was pinned, it was an invitation to intimacy, an invitation he rarely declined.

Dahlia began to move against the sorcerer now, sliding her body against his and deepening her kiss, invading his mouth as her hair fell over her shoulders and half-way down her back. The sorceress shuddered as Artimus’ hands slide down the small of her back and over her buttocks, clutching their fullness, pulling her against his growing erection and pressing into her gyrating body, letting out a growl into her hot mouth as he took over the kiss hungrily.

Dahlia let out a moan as the sorcerer roughly bent her back, hiking up her gown and pulling up her leg, wrapping his arm under her thigh and fitting himself between her legs, rubbing against her core.

Dahlia didn’t have on any panties, so the front of his pants was getting quite oiled as the sorceress panted against him. He suckled her throat, his body moving as if he were actually riding her body, exciting and teasing her, pulling her thigh rather roughly now, yanking her against his swollen, cloth covered cock.

”Oh shit, Artimus,” she breathed as the sorcerer’s hand slipped between their bodies and found her moist flesh, his fingers rubbing around her clit gently as Artimus stared into her face, his eyes heated as he watched her reaction. He looked rather predatory, his eyes narrowed and mouth slightly open as he watched her flush, her head falling back, eyes closing as she gave herself over to his manipulation.

”Don’t ‘oh shit’ me yet, Dahlia,” he said to her, his voice heavy with lust as he slipped two fingers inside the sorceress, Dahlia gasping and her eyes flying open as he began to finger-fuck her, pressing his thumb rhythmically against her clit, feeling her juices coating his digits. “Save that for the main event.”

He withdrew his hand, lifted her roughly and walked over to the bed, tossing her in so she bounced high on the mattress, then pulled out his wand.

”Off,” he growled his clothes disappearing, Dahlia’s eyes appreciative as she gazed at his nude body, the fine brown hair that covered his chest, the tight ridges of his abdomen, and the strong, thick cock rising proudly from its nest of curling brown hair, bordered by his muscular thighs. Artimus had a gorgeous body, and knew how to use it.

Artimus gripped the base of his organ and slowly climbed into the bed, straddling Dahlia’s body high and staring down at her before slapping her cheek lightly with the head of his cock, the sorceress’ hazel eyes going hot and hungry.

”Say ‘ah’ for daddy,” Artimus breathed, moving forward.

”Ah, daddy,” Dahlia responded, closing her eyes, opening her mouth and taking him in, applying her skills to the sorcerer, who gasped appreciatively as her soft, moist warmth and lush full lips encircled him..

Dahlia couldn’t smile, but chuckled inwardly as Artimus hissed, “Oh shit, Dahlia!”

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The next morning a very satisfied Artimus and Dahlia joined the rest of the school for breakfast, being winked to the Great Hall by Kreacher and Bluebell. Dahlia sat next to Hermione and Artimus sat next to Dahlia. Severus nodded to the sorcerer who nodded back as Dahlia greeted Hermione.

’Are we on?” she whispered to Hermione as she looked at the Headmaster’s profile as he cut through a large, juicy sausage.

”Yes,” she replied with a smile. “I have the whole day off.”

Yes, Hermione had managed to make Severus see reason, arriving in his quarters after Artimus left. It hadn’t been easy, because Severus came up with several things she could be doing for the school, but Hermione countered that a day wouldn’t make a difference and that she hadn’t had a day off in ages and had accrued some time.

He was seated in one of the armchairs before the fireplace as Hermione stood before him and told him what she wanted to do tomorrow.

”You are supposed to give written notice at least a week in advance,” Severus snapped at her.

The Headmaster really didn’t mind Hermione going to London with Dahlia, he was just being contrary for the fun of it. Hermione worked hard and was efficient. Besides, she really hadn’t left the school for ages. She deserved a day off.

”Dahlia isn’t going to be here for a week, Severus. Besides, she came here wanting to visit London. Since you inconvenienced them by breaking Artimus’ horse’s leg, the least we can do as good hosts is show her London,” Hermione countered.

”Is Mr. Rogue going?” the wizard asked.

”I don’t think so. He’s not wild about London . . . or England I think. Dahlia says he finds it boring,” Hermione replied.

”Yes. He mentioned he liked the outdoor life. Wrestling grizzly bears in the wild is probably more his forte,” Snape responded, his lip quirking. “Very well. You may have the day off.”

Delighted, Hermione lunged in and gave Severus a kiss on his stiff mouth. When she pulled away, the pale wizard licked his lips thoughtfully, arching an eyebrow at her.

”Tasty,” he said silkily, then grabbed her, pulled her into his lap and snogged her soundly.

When he released the breathless witch he said, “Now, that’s a proper ‘Thank you’ kiss, Headmistress. Make a note of it.”

Hermione grinned at him and returned to her quarters. They didn’t spend every night together, Hermione wanting the dark wizard to feel her absence sometimes. After all, why buy the goose if you can get the golden eggs for free?

Hermione was ready to make their relationship more permanent. She loved Severus and felt it high time they married. She might have to up the ante a bit to get the wizard to propose. She wasn’t sure just how to do that, but she’d think about it.

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Dahlia had Bluebell wink her out to the stables so she could have a short visit with Steede. When she told him she was off to London with Hermione, he snorted.

”Yes, that’s right. Go have fun while I hang here like a slab of meat,” the horse groused, feeling sorry for himself.

”Aw Steede, don’t be that way,” Dahlia said soothingly. “I’ll see if I can get a candy apple sent out to you. Would you like that?”

Steede tossed his head disdainfully.

”You think something as insignificant as a candy apple will dispel the sense of abandonment I feel?” he asked her loftily.

Dahlia smiled.

” It’s coated in sugar and it’s an apple. Two things you looooove,” she said in a sing-song voice, “of course it won’t dispel how you’re feeling, Steede, but it would be a little comfort, wouldn’t it?”

”Well . . . maybe a little comfort. Fine. I’ll take the bribe,” he replied, swishing his tail and swinging slightly.

”Bluebell, you’ll see to it after I’m gone, won’t you?” she asked the house elf, who folded her thin arms stubbornly.

”The Headmaster says I am to goes with you and the Headmistress,” she squeaked at Dahlia.

”But Bluebell, this is London. You’d . . . you’d stand out,” the sorceress said delicately.

”No I won’ts,” Bluebell said, “I goes invisible. The Headmaster says I must goes.”

”All right. Maybe another elf will bring one for him then,” Dahlia said as Bluebell nodded.

”Yes, I will tells them when we goes back to the castle, Miss,” Bluebell said, smiling now that Dahlia understood she was to continue providing service.

After spending a few more minute with Steede, Dahlia and Bluebell returned to the castle. Dahlia was to meet Hermione in the Entrance Hall promptly at ten. The sorceress was wearing comfortable sneakers, jeans, and a beaded white silk blouse with flowing sleeves. Wooden bracelets graced both wrists and she wore the wooden necklace Bluebell had provided for her. Her hair was in one long braid, a little silk bow at the bottom. She was ready for London.

She had coaxed about two hundred dollars our of Artimus the moment they woke up the next morning, naked and curled around each other, the sorcerer smiling at her sleepily. She had used the “Shoop” on him last night and he still felt the afterglow. The “Shoop” was a very special sexual technique that Dahlia had thoroughly mastered but used sparingly. Just as she kept her outer body in shape, she also trained her inner body and her muscle control was phenomenal. Mama Gigi had introduced her to the initial muscle tightening techniques years ago, telling the young sorceress that the “Shoop” would make a man stay with her forever and that it was very powerful and not to be used unless she was sure she wanted a lasting relationship.

Before Artimus, Dahlia mostly had casual sexual encounters with men that she initiated. She wasn’t looking for a relationship then, there was just too much to do. She never used the “Shoop’ knowing that it could complicate matters when all she wanted were hot, quick little tumbles. When she finally did use it, it was on Artimus.

She wanted to keep him.

There was no love spells among sorcerers, but the “Shoop” was pretty damn close. A woman’s ability to manipulate the several rings of her vaginal muscles independently of each other while a man was inside her took sex to a whole other level. The pleasure a man felt was nearly indescribable.

A woman with that gift could send ripples, flexes, pulses, suction, massage on any part of the male organ, top, middle or base. Artimus couldn’t close his mouth or speak the entire time Dahlia used it on him.

He gave her the spending money without a single protest or complaint. Plus she had one hundred and fifty dollars of her own. She was set.

Hermione appeared, a broad smile on her face as she saw the waiting sorceress. Then she frowned slightly as she saw Bluebell standing beside her. She walked up and looked down on the elf.

”Bluebell, your service isn’t needed. We’re going to Muggle London,” she informed the little creature.

”The Headmaster says I must goes,” Bluebell responded as her ears flicked forward.

Oh gods damn it. She should have known Severus would do something like this. He wanted to keep an eye on them. Well, it wouldn’t make sense to find him and complain. He wasn’t going to change his mind.

“All right, let’s go,” Hermione said sourly, as Dahlia looked at her with a bit of amusement. It seemed the Headmaster hadn’t given that much ground at all.

They exited the castle and walked across the grounds heading for the gate. Once outside the perimeter of Hogwarts, they could Apparate.

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Bromin Glens, better known as “Dodge” on the West End, leaned against a lamp post and lit a fag, drawing it in and exhaling. The sandy-haired twenty-year-old’s gray eyes flicked up and down the street before he straightened and began to walk. He was a bit grimy looking and pale, his sandy hair cut raggedly, his jeans low around his hips, the black spiked belt barely holding them up. He wore a dingy black t-shirt with a faded flaming skull on it, and a worn black leather vest. His lower lip was pierced with a silver stud and backing. He passed a number of blokes who called out to him from across the street, and he tossed his arm up carelessly, not stopping.

Dodge rarely stopped for much. He was a loner . . . but cool. No one knew how he lived, he didn’t seem to have a job, but he had a one room flat, a cell phone and always had, money, cigarettes and booze. He had just shown up one day, and after kicking an arse or two to show he could hold his own, he was accepted. But he wasn’t too friendly. He wasn’t mean . . . but it was like he had something more important to do that stand about gawking. He was always moving, all over the city as if he were looking for something.

Most thought he was a criminal. A thief or a robber and a good one. How else could he survive like he did? But no one asked him what he did for a living anymore. All he’d reply is “why?” and those gray eyes would go cold and hard as if he wanted to kill someone. And the girls gave up on him too . . . he was an attractive young man who always had what was needed, but he said he was loyal to someone and to stay the fuck away. After he slapped one persistent little girly around, he was given a wide berth.

Yes, Dodge was loyal to someone . . . the Antimage.

He ambled up the boulevard, his Spiral medallion strung on a black leather thong as he passed through the London crowds, his eyes shifting.

Maybe today it would glow.

The watcher cleric could use some excitement.

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A/N: And we’re off! Yay! Thanks for reading.