Of Death and Fire

March


Author's notes: Here goes again: Sexual content down the road. Also, hints of incest. If it offends, you, don't read it.
 
 
 
CHAPTER 30: Beware of the Ides of March
 
A couple of weeks later, Morgaine was sitting on the Main Hall during breakfast time, slowly sipping from a cup of strong mint tea. Once more, her muscles were sore, the result of another busy night in Severus' dungeon. It had started like an argument; he had teased her, asking if he could add his own tattoo in her collection, preferably his House insignia on her butt. She teased him back, saying that she might consider it if he would let her wash his hair. Naturally, they ended up in a verbal sword-fight. And then they made up, not as verbally this time, unless one considers lustful moans as a part of a verbal communication system.
And this was, more or less, the sum of their relationship. Lots of wild sex, brief interludes of actual conversation, only this time it seemed as if they had started to trust each other. Perhaps it was the result of their painful separation. On her part, being close to death had a major impact on her views on life. She was determined to make this affair to work, even if that meant she had to battle with her darkside every moment of her life. She knew their worse enemy was lurking within. They both knew that, but they were still too stubborn to openly admit they liked each other.
Allowing the strong brew to soothe her body, Morgaine let her eyes travel inside the Main Hall. On their own will, her eyes were fixed on Snape's face, who was busy eating his breakfast. From this distance, she realised he had lost weight. And it seemed as if he wanted to take it all back in, eating in a hurry, with locks of his black hair falling over his face. She could never understand why those stray locks didn't bother him. On the other hand, perhaps he used them as a cover. Feeling her gaze, he raised his eyes momentarily from his plate, glanced at her and resumed devouring his breakfast. His glance was fluent: Mind your own business. She smiled, thinking he was a real bastard sometimes. But still, a delicious kind of bastard.
Her eyes stood on Dumbledore, who was cheerful as always. He greeted her with a wide smile, with a small spot of his hot chocolate staining his white beard. She couldn't help wonder of how much she knew of her relationship with Snape. And of her involvement with Malfoy. She shivered, wishing he would never know of the later. And then she was suddenly aware of Moody's enchanted eye fixed on her. She ignored him and turned her attention to the students.
It was the morning of the second task of the Triwizard Tournament and the Hall was busting with excitement. Both Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs were worried about their champions, but their concern was mingled with feverish anticipation for the event. Morgaine's eyes stood on the Slytherin table, seeing young Malfoy flashing his "Support Cedric Diggory" badge. This boy was much like his father; arrogant, vain and manipulative. She had noticed his eyes studying her from time to time, and she couldn't help but wonder if he was aware of his father's schemes. Morgaine was certain that he was spying for his father, informing him of everything that went on in Hogwarts. Had Lucius told him to keep an eye on her? If he had, did Draco know of their involvement? He was old enough to be aware of the sins of the flesh, but still...
~*~
The second task came to pass with Harry tying in the first place with Cedric. For Morgaine, the rest of February and first week of March were uneventful, until the day she had a visitor.
~*~
The tall man walked gracefully out from Dumbledore's office and made his way toward the library, where he was told he could find Morgaine. As he walked through the gloomy corridors on this clouded morning it felt to the bystanders as if the sun had risen. Several students and teachers looked up heckheck on the stranger and, when they did, they were unable to take their eyes away from his face. Tall, handsome, with the golden mane of his hair falling down his back, he would hardly go unnoticed. He smiled widely on seeing his old House Head greeting him with joy.
"Alexander, by dear boy!" exclaimed Professor Flitwick. "What an unexpected pleasure! Are you here to see Morgaine?"
"As a matter of fact, yes", replied Alexander. "I wanted to borrow a book from the library and I took the chance to visit Morgaine as well".
"Well, off you go, then", said the little Professor cheerfully. "I would hate to delay a family reunion".
Alexander smiled back at him and made his way to the library. Madame Pince told him she was in the restricted section and he grinned, knowing how typical was for his sister to indulge in the forbidden aspects of life. Quietly, like the elf he was, he entered the restricted section, following the sound of his sister's voice. And there she was, in the furthest corner of the library, with a huge tome open in her hand, supporting its weight on the dusty self. Only she wasn't alone. Severus Snape was with her, his hand resting casually on her thigh. They were in the middle of a heated conversation on ingredients. Alexander stood silent, realising in disgust that he could see only one of his sister's hands.
"I'm telling you, for the fourth time, that Sulphur and Cascara Sagrada don't mix!" He heard Snape's annoyed voice.
"And I'm telling you, Severus, that brewing is quite different from banishing. This is the perfect mix for vanquishing unfriendly ghosts!" Morgaine's melodic voice reached his ears like a warm summer breeze.
"Well, they do, especially if you plan to vanquish the whole house along with the haunting! In Merlin's sake, Morgaine, why do you have to be so stubborn?" Snape sounded annoyed, his his hand kept fondling her thigh. Suddenly he looked up and saw they were not alone.
A few feet away stood a tall man, his features almost a duplicate of Morgaine's; and yet very different at the same time. His face was painfully beautiful, crowned by shiny blond hair. He was the sort of man women would circle like moths are drawn by a flame. The sort of man Snape loathed deeply for being the exact opposite of him. He always had the suspicion that men who looked like elves, including pure blood elves, were secretly homosexually orientated. Hell, if you look and smell like a May Queen, you probably have her sexual habits as well. Prudently, he had never confided his thoughts to Morgaine. This was a fight he could not win. However, her brother had lost shinghing of his grace this moment. Perhaps it was his lips that had formed a tight line on his face. Perhaps it was his frown and the vein pulsating in his temple. And, he thought wicked delight, perhaps it's my own hand on his sister's butt. Want to know where *her* hand is right now, pretty boy?
In Snape's disappointment, Morgaine handed him the dusty tome and jumped in her brother's arms. She kissed his cheek, and the sun returned in Alexander's eyes.
"I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" he asked, kissing her forehead.
Are you that stupid? Of course you are. But Snape kept his bilious reply in his head, making a mental note to deduct thirty points from each of the Weasley twins. This would make his day better, at least for a while.
"Severus, I'm sorry, but we have to resume our discussion later. I haven't seen Alexander in more than a year". Without a second look at his direction, she took her brother's hand and let him lead her outside.
Behind them, Snape shoved the book back on the self, mumbling an incoherent reply. He graced them with a last venomous stare and left to prepare for his Double Potions class. Neither the Ravenclaw nor the Hufflepuff students had any idea the trouble they were in.
~*~
High on the Astronomy Tower, Morgaine was sitting on Alexander's lap, happy like a purring cat. She had her hands around his neck, covering his face with soft, butterfly kisses. He had been concerned about her recovery after her Ninth Gate encounter, as much as her coping after Aurion's death. She reassured him she was fine. But she never told him she was summoning the dead every single night, hoping desperately to see Aurion's face among them. No one had known of this last obsession, not even Severus. Because Morgaine knew in her heart that neither of them would understand.
"And how's life in Hogwarts? I've noticed you still keep your reptile pet", he said coldly.
She removed her hands from around his neck starstared at his face.
"And what exactly do you mean by that? If memory serves well, I have never commented on your own harem", she replied just as coldly.
Raising a hand to touch her hair, his eyes took a sad tone.
"Morgaine, I've told you before, some people are dangerous. I've run across the records of an old case that felt horrifyingly familiar, and I can't shake off the feeling that Snape is somehow connected with it". His quiet tone showed concern. Hopefully, it would conceal the jealousy underneath.
Morgaine raised an eyebrow.
"What kind of case?" She looked at him in suspicion.
Then Alexander told her of a series of unexplained murders that had shook Muggle London ages ago; all of them consisting of bodies of teenage children brutally raped and murdered during some kind of occult ritual. The victim rate was significantly reduced around the time Snape allegedly became a double agent and completely stopped after Voldemort disappeared.
Morgaine shook her head in denial.
"No, you must be wrong. Severus might not fit your idea of a benevolent person, but he certainly is not that evil. Malfoy perhaps, but not Severus". Alexander sighed and hid his face in her hair, kissing her neck. He knew when to drop a subject. He closed his arms around her waist, enjoying the warm feeling of her body against his own. With a slight hint of wicked delight, he wished that the Potions Master could see them now.
~*~
Alexander left right after dinner and Morgaine walked inside the crypt to summon the dead. Once more, Aurion didn't came. But this time, one of the spirits left her with a strange warning. "Beware of the Ides of March", it had said. She dismissed the thought, saying to herself that since her middle name wasn't Julius she had nothing to fear. Besides, the Ides of March were on this day: March the 15th, and it was almost over.
Crossing the dark corridors, she sneaked inside Snape's dungeon. He had already retired and she climbed in the bed beside him. He was lying on his stomach, refusing to acknowledge her presence. She sat back, staring at his naked shoulders as he pretended to be asleep.
So, it's the silent treatment again, she thought. Jealous of Alexander as well, aren't you, Severus?
Determined not to let him have his way she undressed quietly and hid beneath the covers, pretending she was buying his act. After a few moments of silence, she reached out with her hand and removed the hair from the back of his neck. She leaned over and kissed the same spot, lightly touching his flesh with her tongue. Although he remained still, she felt his skin tremble under her touch.
She moved over him straddling his thighs. She leaned over and formed a wet trail down his spine with her tongue, letting her nipples make their own trail on his flesh. This time she felt his breathing accelerating and, after an agonising slow journey, when her tongue reached his buttocks, he drew a sharp breath. She moved her hand lower, reaching out to grasp his erection, and he raised his thighs to give her access. As her lips closed on his scrotum, he let out a growl and turned over, pushing her on her back.
So much for the silent treatment.
Kneeling between her spread legs, he lifted her thighs and pushed inside her, forcing her to arch her back to maintain the penetration. He pushed harder and deeper, wishing to erase Alexander's memory from her head, replacing it with hot waves of pleasure. And it didn't take long. She soon found herself caught in a tidal wave, her mind blank and her whole existence focused in the burning flesh between her legs. She came with a scream, lifting her legs round his neck, pushing him deeper as he reached his own orgasm.
He collapsed on her, and they soon fell to a deep sleep, with their bodies entangled in an abstract pattern of limbs and sweaty locks of hair.
 
In the deepest pits of Hell, a treacherous spirit was crying in agony in the fleshless hands of the Lord of Death. It should have never had warned her. Luckily for Him, she hadn't taken it seriously. His ivory teeth illuminated the darkness as He thought of the new life that had been planted in her womb. This would be the perfect offering for her true Lord and Master, whose grasp she had evaded two times already.