A Matter of Black and White
folder
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
35
Views:
3,953
Reviews:
57
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
35
Views:
3,953
Reviews:
57
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
34-Things Unspoken by Daylight
CHAPTER 34—THINGS UNSPOKEN BY DAYLIGHT
Aurora’s body still hummed with desire, like a swarm of frustrated bees that had slipped into an Edenic greenhouse to sip sweet nectar but were now crashing against the glass panes to get their prize home to the hive. Her long-awaited union with Severus had been satisfying in its own right, but the burning that poured from her belly down to every sensitive point between her legs now wanted no other satisfaction than the most primal kind.
She had been so painfully, maddeningly close to her pleasure when he had spilled inside of her. Then, with a look of melancholy wonderment, he had slid off her and out of her and onto his back, where he was now staring up at the ceiling, laying right next to her but lost some place far away. He could not attend to her the way she needed from there, but she feared disturbing whatever meditation he had slipped into. As easy as it might have been to slide her hand between her legs and top herself off, however, she knew this was also impossible. Ever the perfectionist, he would wake from his haze with embarrassment at not having finished the job for her too. Though his instincts were good, his practice in the art of lovemaking was awkward, as if someone in what must have been a state of utter madness or cruelty had once ridiculed those splendid instincts, making him swear off the practice altogether. Drawing attention to her own incompletion would only bruise his ego, which for Severus also meant battering the trust she had worked too hard to build.
Tonight had been the same dance as ever. She had had to cajole him, tease him just a bit, let him think it was he who was in the lead, though she was the one moving them forward toward what they both wanted but he was too shy and proud and awkward to admit to. He had been so careful with her, though she knew he was also being careful with himself. Under all that well-practiced self-reserve, she could feel the conflict between his escalating desire and his instinct to retreat back to cloaks and shadows had she revealed this was all just a game. He had shied from her touch only to swim in it, making her want to caress him all over like a jittery horse until at last the feel of her was second nature to him.
Then there had been the moment when she had finally been lying naked in his bed. That look of dark-eyed wonder as his gaze had traveled the length of her body was burned into her soul. No man had ever made her feel so beautiful. And what he had said….could anything be so pleasing and yet so heart-breaking to hear? He had never had anything so beautiful. To “have her”? The phrase would ordinarily have set her on edge, but there—with him—she knew he had her, and she wanted to give herself—mind, body, and soul—to him again and again.
Yes, she wanted to have him again, lack of orgasm notwithstanding. She wanted to have him in ten different ways all at once until at last she found her release, and then she wanted to start all over again until they both passed out from pleasure. It was this desire to have him that exasperated her so. He was so close and yet so far. She turned her head to the side to watch the moonlight rise and ebb on his chest with each unsteady breath. He was fragile and dangerous all at once, like a piece of broken glass on the beach, and she feared that her usual teasing tricks for his attention would either shatter him or turn him against her.
She was studying ceiling, willing herself to see whatever it was he saw, when she heard his deep voice rise out of the fathoms of the night.
“They want me to kill Dumbledore.”
She turned back to face him, certain she had misheard. “What?”
“I’m supposed kill the Headmaster.” He was still staring at the ceiling, halfway between the shadows of his meditations and the microcosm of the bed.
She rolled onto her side now, frighteningly certain that she had heard correctly and that he was speaking the truth. “Who wants this?” she demanded shakily. “What are you talking about?”
“It was supposed to be Malfoy’s task. The Dark Lord set him to it.” He spoke with resentment that had long since staled into resignation. “But he’ll fail.”
“Wait,” she said, a panic setting in from the gray castle walls, “he ‘will’ fail? You don’t mean Lucius, the Death Eater in Azkaban?”
“No, it is his son, receiving either punishment or redemption for his father’s failure.”
“But Draco…he’s here,” she whispered with a jolt of dread. “He’s here at Hogwarts. He’s the boy that stole into the party tonight.”
“I tried to speak to him afterwards,” Severus recounted, his voice empty but so unnervingly steady. “He’s avoided me all year. He won’t tell me what he’s planning.”
“But he’s a boy,” she reasoned. “What can he do to Albus? There’s no way he’ll succeed.”
“I know.”
From somewhere in the Forbidden Forest, a wolf cried to the moon, which was casting an eerie half-light through the magically placed dungeon window.
“The Dark Lord knows that too, and so does his mother.”
She caught the moonlight glint in his narrow eyes. “What’s happened, Severus?” It was like asking a Healer whether a much-beloved patient had made it through surgery, a case of not wanting to know but knowing she must.
“Narcissa came to me this summer…Narcissa and Bellatrix.” He hissed this second name, the only word so far to which he had bestowed any emotion. “Narcissa was frightened for her son and wanted me to protect him. But protection wasn’t enough for Bellatrix. She loathes me and wanted to catch me in a lie. She suggested the Unbreakable Vow….”
A small gasp escaped from Aurora.
“She suggested the Unbreakable Vow,” he said again, the incontestability of repetition all the more horrifying to his audience. “She thought I would refuse, and so…I accepted.”
Under ordinary circumstances, the opportunity to defy Bellatrix Lestrange in even the most petty of things would have left him with a satisfied smirk. Now, however, he seemed to sink deeper into the shadowy vortex of the ceiling.
“But if Draco won’t let you help him….”
He huffed as if the naïveté of which he had so long accused her had finally manifested itself. He turned to her at last, something wistful in his inky eyes. “It’s not that simple, Aurora.”
“Oh, gods, Severus, what did you do?” she breathed, searching those dark eyes for an answer.
He shrugged into the pillows and turned back to the ceiling. “The Vow had already begun…there was now way to back out.”
“What did you promise, Severus?” she asked, willing him to make her suspicions wrong.
“She made me promise that, should Draco fail…I would finish the task.”
The night pressed heavily upon them without even the hoot of an owl to break up the onerous silence. Breathe, Aurora, breathe, she told herself, blinking back horrified tears. She finally had Severus; she was not going to lose him to this. “Albus…,” she began. Yes, Albus—Albus who must be protected, Albus who could protect them.
“He already knows,” Severus answered. “He has a plan.”
The words hung on silver moonbeams, the promise of starlight to make all wishes true. The night was no longer so haunted. She looked at him expectantly, waiting for more.
He turned back to her with the face of a seer who had looked out over dark and distant horizons. He shook his head wearily. “Don’t ask me tonight.”
She nodded, wanting to blot the dark exhaustion from his eyes. She nestled close to his side and drew the long-overdue covers up over them both, half expecting him to pull away. Cuddling did not seem part of Severus’s interpersonal repertoire. He surprised her, though, by melting with her into the bed. She kissed him gently on the lips and brushed some black strands of hair from his face, causing his eyelashes to flutter under her fingertips and then stay closed.
“It’s alright,” she promised. “It’ll all be alright.”
Albus knew. He had a plan. His plans never failed. Albus Dumbledore would outfox the Dark Lord the way he always had. Then she and Severus would be free. It would all be alright.
She dropped a kiss on his shoulder and then repositioned herself to lay protectively over him, one arm wrapped around his body, her head resting just above his breastbone. It was a long time before he actually fell asleep, though he never said a word and she never loosened her embrace. Eventually, his breath on her forehead became shallow and even, and the pulse against her cheek settled into a steady rhythm.
She pressed a kiss to his heart. The Dark Lord was not going to claim another casualty in her life. He couldn’t have Severus’s soul, and he couldn’t have his life either. He was hers, she decided, and, wrapping her arm tightly around him, she wasn’t letting go.
* * *
AN: My specific apologies to Marilynn. I figured A’s lack of orgasm here would get someone riled up. Trust me when I say that to everything there is a purpose and that there’s more to come! ;o)
Aurora’s body still hummed with desire, like a swarm of frustrated bees that had slipped into an Edenic greenhouse to sip sweet nectar but were now crashing against the glass panes to get their prize home to the hive. Her long-awaited union with Severus had been satisfying in its own right, but the burning that poured from her belly down to every sensitive point between her legs now wanted no other satisfaction than the most primal kind.
She had been so painfully, maddeningly close to her pleasure when he had spilled inside of her. Then, with a look of melancholy wonderment, he had slid off her and out of her and onto his back, where he was now staring up at the ceiling, laying right next to her but lost some place far away. He could not attend to her the way she needed from there, but she feared disturbing whatever meditation he had slipped into. As easy as it might have been to slide her hand between her legs and top herself off, however, she knew this was also impossible. Ever the perfectionist, he would wake from his haze with embarrassment at not having finished the job for her too. Though his instincts were good, his practice in the art of lovemaking was awkward, as if someone in what must have been a state of utter madness or cruelty had once ridiculed those splendid instincts, making him swear off the practice altogether. Drawing attention to her own incompletion would only bruise his ego, which for Severus also meant battering the trust she had worked too hard to build.
Tonight had been the same dance as ever. She had had to cajole him, tease him just a bit, let him think it was he who was in the lead, though she was the one moving them forward toward what they both wanted but he was too shy and proud and awkward to admit to. He had been so careful with her, though she knew he was also being careful with himself. Under all that well-practiced self-reserve, she could feel the conflict between his escalating desire and his instinct to retreat back to cloaks and shadows had she revealed this was all just a game. He had shied from her touch only to swim in it, making her want to caress him all over like a jittery horse until at last the feel of her was second nature to him.
Then there had been the moment when she had finally been lying naked in his bed. That look of dark-eyed wonder as his gaze had traveled the length of her body was burned into her soul. No man had ever made her feel so beautiful. And what he had said….could anything be so pleasing and yet so heart-breaking to hear? He had never had anything so beautiful. To “have her”? The phrase would ordinarily have set her on edge, but there—with him—she knew he had her, and she wanted to give herself—mind, body, and soul—to him again and again.
Yes, she wanted to have him again, lack of orgasm notwithstanding. She wanted to have him in ten different ways all at once until at last she found her release, and then she wanted to start all over again until they both passed out from pleasure. It was this desire to have him that exasperated her so. He was so close and yet so far. She turned her head to the side to watch the moonlight rise and ebb on his chest with each unsteady breath. He was fragile and dangerous all at once, like a piece of broken glass on the beach, and she feared that her usual teasing tricks for his attention would either shatter him or turn him against her.
She was studying ceiling, willing herself to see whatever it was he saw, when she heard his deep voice rise out of the fathoms of the night.
“They want me to kill Dumbledore.”
She turned back to face him, certain she had misheard. “What?”
“I’m supposed kill the Headmaster.” He was still staring at the ceiling, halfway between the shadows of his meditations and the microcosm of the bed.
She rolled onto her side now, frighteningly certain that she had heard correctly and that he was speaking the truth. “Who wants this?” she demanded shakily. “What are you talking about?”
“It was supposed to be Malfoy’s task. The Dark Lord set him to it.” He spoke with resentment that had long since staled into resignation. “But he’ll fail.”
“Wait,” she said, a panic setting in from the gray castle walls, “he ‘will’ fail? You don’t mean Lucius, the Death Eater in Azkaban?”
“No, it is his son, receiving either punishment or redemption for his father’s failure.”
“But Draco…he’s here,” she whispered with a jolt of dread. “He’s here at Hogwarts. He’s the boy that stole into the party tonight.”
“I tried to speak to him afterwards,” Severus recounted, his voice empty but so unnervingly steady. “He’s avoided me all year. He won’t tell me what he’s planning.”
“But he’s a boy,” she reasoned. “What can he do to Albus? There’s no way he’ll succeed.”
“I know.”
From somewhere in the Forbidden Forest, a wolf cried to the moon, which was casting an eerie half-light through the magically placed dungeon window.
“The Dark Lord knows that too, and so does his mother.”
She caught the moonlight glint in his narrow eyes. “What’s happened, Severus?” It was like asking a Healer whether a much-beloved patient had made it through surgery, a case of not wanting to know but knowing she must.
“Narcissa came to me this summer…Narcissa and Bellatrix.” He hissed this second name, the only word so far to which he had bestowed any emotion. “Narcissa was frightened for her son and wanted me to protect him. But protection wasn’t enough for Bellatrix. She loathes me and wanted to catch me in a lie. She suggested the Unbreakable Vow….”
A small gasp escaped from Aurora.
“She suggested the Unbreakable Vow,” he said again, the incontestability of repetition all the more horrifying to his audience. “She thought I would refuse, and so…I accepted.”
Under ordinary circumstances, the opportunity to defy Bellatrix Lestrange in even the most petty of things would have left him with a satisfied smirk. Now, however, he seemed to sink deeper into the shadowy vortex of the ceiling.
“But if Draco won’t let you help him….”
He huffed as if the naïveté of which he had so long accused her had finally manifested itself. He turned to her at last, something wistful in his inky eyes. “It’s not that simple, Aurora.”
“Oh, gods, Severus, what did you do?” she breathed, searching those dark eyes for an answer.
He shrugged into the pillows and turned back to the ceiling. “The Vow had already begun…there was now way to back out.”
“What did you promise, Severus?” she asked, willing him to make her suspicions wrong.
“She made me promise that, should Draco fail…I would finish the task.”
The night pressed heavily upon them without even the hoot of an owl to break up the onerous silence. Breathe, Aurora, breathe, she told herself, blinking back horrified tears. She finally had Severus; she was not going to lose him to this. “Albus…,” she began. Yes, Albus—Albus who must be protected, Albus who could protect them.
“He already knows,” Severus answered. “He has a plan.”
The words hung on silver moonbeams, the promise of starlight to make all wishes true. The night was no longer so haunted. She looked at him expectantly, waiting for more.
He turned back to her with the face of a seer who had looked out over dark and distant horizons. He shook his head wearily. “Don’t ask me tonight.”
She nodded, wanting to blot the dark exhaustion from his eyes. She nestled close to his side and drew the long-overdue covers up over them both, half expecting him to pull away. Cuddling did not seem part of Severus’s interpersonal repertoire. He surprised her, though, by melting with her into the bed. She kissed him gently on the lips and brushed some black strands of hair from his face, causing his eyelashes to flutter under her fingertips and then stay closed.
“It’s alright,” she promised. “It’ll all be alright.”
Albus knew. He had a plan. His plans never failed. Albus Dumbledore would outfox the Dark Lord the way he always had. Then she and Severus would be free. It would all be alright.
She dropped a kiss on his shoulder and then repositioned herself to lay protectively over him, one arm wrapped around his body, her head resting just above his breastbone. It was a long time before he actually fell asleep, though he never said a word and she never loosened her embrace. Eventually, his breath on her forehead became shallow and even, and the pulse against her cheek settled into a steady rhythm.
She pressed a kiss to his heart. The Dark Lord was not going to claim another casualty in her life. He couldn’t have Severus’s soul, and he couldn’t have his life either. He was hers, she decided, and, wrapping her arm tightly around him, she wasn’t letting go.
* * *
AN: My specific apologies to Marilynn. I figured A’s lack of orgasm here would get someone riled up. Trust me when I say that to everything there is a purpose and that there’s more to come! ;o)