The Prince in Exile

TPIE04

The Prince and the Potion


\"Narcissa?\"

She stirred slightly, not opening her eyes as she mumbled something indistinguishable.

\"Narcissa,\" he repeated, tickling her softly on the neck as well.

Her eyelids remained closed, but this time when she spoke, he could decipher her words:

\"No more, Severus,\" she murmured. She stretched slightly and then settled herself into a more comfortable position, still lying on top of him. He could not help but think of a pampered, indolent cat refusing to leave her favored perch by a sunny window.

\"At least, not for a little while,\" she amended, smiling slightly as she reached up to brush her hair away from her face, still without opening her eyes.

\"Yes, I do think you need some more rest,\" he answered, raising his hands to her shoulders and beginning to push her gently aside. \"And I am afraid that this bed, while sufficient for certain activities, is not large enough to comfortably accommodate two people seeking to sleep.\"

She sighed disappointedly, but moved to one side of the cot so that he could move out from underneath her.

\"What time is it?\" she asked, finally opening her eyes as he arose from the bed.

He glanced at the clock upon his workbench. \"About three o\'clock,\" he answered, flexing his arms and legs and then placing his hands upon the small of his back and bending backward to work out the kinks in his muscles. \"You should probably leave directly at daybreak to avoid suspicion,\" he said quietly, with a hint of regret in his voice.

\"Yes,\" she agreed, with a grimace. Putting her hands behind her head, she smiled up at him. \"So I guess you\'d better wake me up about an hour before that?\"

\"Of course.\" His black eyes moved slowly over her, savoring every inch of her naked form before he bent down to retrieve the covers. \"Warm enough?\" he asked, as he tucked the blanket up around her shoulders.

\"I guess,\" she answered, closing her eyes. \"I\'d be warmer if you stayed here, though,\" she groused.

\"Oh, I promise to raise your temperature before you leave,\" he assured her.

He heard a soft, cooing sound of contentment and then she was silent, apparently falling asleep almost immediately.

He turned and walked to the bench. He retrieved his boxers from the pile of discarded clothing and pulled them on. He put on the shirt as well, but left several of the top buttons undone as he reached out for his jacket and cloak. He considered the garments for a moment and then, coming to a decision, he turned toward the bed and carefully laid his cloak over the top of the blankets. He rather suspected that she required more protection from the cold and damp that he did.

He made his way back to the chair, hanging his jacket over it and reaching down with a smile to retrieve her bra, which was dangling off of the side of the seat. Her cloak had already fallen off onto the ground and he bent down to pick that up as well. Brushing off the dirt, he set the clothes on the workbench and then retrieved her other items: dress, shoes, stockings, barrettes, garter belt and panties. Placing them neatly in a stack upon the desk, he turned back to regard her thoughtfully.

It was enormously satisfying to compare the cool, elegant lady with impeccable clothes and hair swept up into a chignon held with jeweled ornaments to the disheveled, naked wanton who now occupied his bed. The white-blonde hair flowing over the pillow was tangled, her carefully-applied makeup smudged and, most gratifying of all he thought, his semen was even now streaming down those smooth, creamy-white thighs.

Rousing himself with difficulty from the contemplation of that most delightful image, he strode over to the stack of wood and selected a few more pieces of fuel for the fire. As he bent down to arrange them, he noticed the shards of her broken wineglass still lying upon the ground. With a frown, he reached out with one of logs and swept the splinters of glass into the fire. He finished stoking the flames and then stood, dusting his hands as before and walking back to the bench.

Picking up the other glass and the wine bottle, he retraced his steps and, kneeling down once more, emptied the remaining liquid from both vessels into the ground beside the fire. A few drops of the wine bounced into flames, resulting in a loud hiss and a brief flash of silver-blue light as they vaporized. He cast a quick glance over to the bed, but Narcissa had slept on, oblivious to the light and sound.

With a pleased nod of his head, he arose and glided back to the desk, setting the bottle and the glass near the back of the bench. He raised his eyes to the top shelf, scrutinizing the many jars and flasks arranged upon it.

\"I had time only to throw a few items into my pockets before being forced to leave the castle forever.\"

With a smile, he reached up and retrieved a quite nondescript vial. He swirled it slightly and studied the clear, colorless liquid within it.

How fortunate that this particular bottle had indeed been small enough for him to throw into one of the pockets of his cloak before he left his office. It may not have been the most expensive of his various potions and elixirs, but it was certainly one of his most ingenious creations.

Removing the stopper from the top of the vial, he brought it to his nose and sniffed. A faint, fruit-like smell remained despite his best efforts to completely eradicate the odor and render the libation as tasteless as water. However, he thought, as he placed the bottle back onto the shelf, both taste and scent were easily disguised by mixing it with a wine possessing a fruity bouquet-such as a Beaujolais.

He turned and looked over at her again. She was still sleeping peacefully, snuggled down in the blankets with a slight smile upon her face. He had no doubt that she would never suspect that she had been dosed with a lust potion. In the first place, the effects of such aphrodisiacs were usually immediate and unmistakable, with the unfortunate subjects reduced within seconds to the drooling, voraciously lascivious behavior of a Kneazle in heat. His painstaking experiments had resulted in the creation of something far more complex and subtle.

In the second place, he had partaken of the potion as well, although admittedly not nearly as much as she. His years of testing the elixir upon himself had built up a certain immunity, of course. And its one residual effect-the prolongation of his erection-had certainly been to their mutual advantage.

In the third place, he had been very careful to direct every stage of the seduction. He was sure that she would look back upon the evening and find nothing extraordinary about the fact that she had tumbled into his arms. She would attribute the lowering of her inhibitions to the combination of the alcohol and her own emotional distress. Add to that her gratitude for what he had done and the guilt over what he had endured, and he was confident that she would convince herself that she had initially been moved by pity and loneliness rather than lust.

In fact, he thought, settling back down into the chair, the greatest difficulty of the evening had arisen when she had been startled by the werewolves. He had found himself staring down at her hands, clutching the front of his cloak, and wondering how the devil he was going to extricate himself from her grasp without touching her. For the most elegant property of his creation was that it required tactile contact before the subject would feel the full effects of the potion. And while she had certainly been in an emotional frame of mind, he rather suspected that even Narcissa would have become suspicious of the sudden switch from terror to lechery at that moment.

But perhaps not, he thought, shrugging his shoulders, and reaching back to pull his jacket over him. After all, she hadn\'t seemed to suspect at all that he had performed Legilimency upon her more than once that evening.

At any rate, after she had been reduced to tears he had known that she was ripe for the taking. He had finally allowed himself to place his hands upon her and had been most gratified by her response. Of course, if had been necessary to overplay his part a bit, to portray himself as a conflicted, noble soul tormented with guilt at the thought of bedding the wife of his friend. But it was absolutely essential that she remain convinced that she had been the predator, not the prey in this particular little game of seduction.

But she had certainly been right-he had wanted her for years. He could remember vividly the first time he had nervously stepped into the Slytherin common room, overwhelmed by the sights and sounds of the magical place and desperately afraid that his someone would guess his shameful secret, that he was merely a half-blood. She had been there, standing beside Lucius, displayed like a rare jewel draped over his arm. What a couple they were: a beautiful young girl and an impossibly handsome youth, equally proud and disdainful, a Lord and Lady presiding regally over the House of Slytherin.

She had remained silent as Lucius greeted them, his words of welcome couched in his distinctively cultured and assuredly superior tone of voice. Instead, she had gazed out over the crowd, her blue eyes carefully studying the faces of the newcomers. She had gazed at some with open disdain, acknowledged others with a curt nod of her head, and a select few had been rewarded with a slight smile of recognition. But when her eyes fell upon him, a look of utter disgust had flitted across her face, and he knew to his dismay that she had seen the frayed cuffs and worn patches on the second-hand robe that he wore.

He had sworn then and there that someday he would make her pay for that.

Well, it has taken you over twenty-five years to fulfill that vow, but you have finally managed it, haven\'t you?

In the following days, a lowly first-year such as himself had been beneath her notice, of course. He had found that eminently preferable to the open contempt with which she had initially regarded him. But it had not been long before his knowledge of curses and natural predilection for the Dark Arts had led to Lucius Malfoy himself seeking out his company and extending his hand in friendship. That in turn had resulted in a considerable thaw in her demeanor, though there was still an undercurrent of condescension in her manner when she spoke to him. He had secretly treasured each smile or compliment she had bestowed upon him, and by the end of the first year he found often himself thinking about her as he lay in his bed, a habit that usually necessitated a frenzied session of self-gratification before he could drift off to sleep.

The fantasies with which he indulged himself were immeasurably helped by the fact that Lucius had, near the end of the year, gotten quite drunk on Ogden\'s Old Firewhiskey one night and had proceeded to regale a group of Slytherins with some quite explicit details of his physical relationship with Narcissa. After an exhaustive discussion of the various positions they had attempted, Crabbe had breathlessly inquired as to when her actual deflowering had occurred.

\"Well, not until this year,\" Lucius had replied irritably as he took another drink. \"She absolutely refused to do it until she was seventeen and could buy her own Contraceptive Potion. But,\" he added with a leer as he set his glass down upon the table, \"She\'s been giving me hand jobs for years, and she\'s gotten very good at it.\"

\"Oh, now we are getting to my area of expertise.\"

Yes, indeed, he thought, raising his hand in a mock toast in her direction. He had to admit that she was quite an accomplished mistress of that particular art.

\"And does she, does she-you know-\" Goyle had panted, fairly slobbering as he opened his mouth in an elaborate pantomime.

\"Unfortunately, no,\" Lucius answered, his hand quite unsteady as he attempted to pour himself another drink. \"She probably thinks,\" he said, hiccuping slightly, \"that there\'s too many calories in it.\"

He had laughed along with the rest of them, but he had felt the blood rush to his groin. That night, he had imagined her mouth pressed tightly around his cock as he stroked it with his fingers.

There was a broad smirk upon his face now.

So, I have succeeded where Lucius failed.

In fact, he thought, as a nasty gleam came to his eyes, he fully intended to have her down her knees in the dirt again before she left.

\"And this time, my spoiled little Puss,\" he whispered silkily, \"I shall have that pink tongue of yours lapping it up as if it were the sweetest of creams.\"

Of course, he conceded, he had resorted to a bit of subterfuge in order to initiate the seduction. But her first orgasm would have effectively dissipated the effects of the potion. Her responses the rest of the evening had been due entirely to his prowess as a lover rather than as a Potions master. And he rather suspected that she would be eager to try just about anything he suggested when she awakened.

With that thought in mind, he settled back in the chair, determined to get a bit of sleep before called upon to perform feats of sexual wizardry again. He pulled the jacket up over her shoulders and then jerked his head back as what felt like a bit of fuzz tickled the tip of his nose. He reached down and plucked something from the smooth fabric, his mouth widening in amusement as he realized that it was one of Narcissa\'s long blonde hairs, and that a strand of his own ebony locks was wound around the end of it. With a shrug, he tossed the hairs toward the fire, and there was another slight hiss as they were engulfed by the flames.

He closed his eyes and sat back in the chair, trying to clear his mind of thoughts.

Blonde and black, light and dark, as different as day and night.

Or-

His eyes flew open and he sat straight up in the chair again.

As different as Narcissa and Bellatrix.

He could hardly say that tonight was a disappointment, but in the end had the consummation of his passion been just a bit too easy? Not that he would discourage further visits from her, for she would provide a welcome distraction from the mind-numbing boredom of his current existence. But wouldn\'t the real triumph be to entice Bellatrix, who openly hated and distrusted him, into his bed?

His imagined her standing before him, her habitual expression of suspicion and hostility replaced with whorish lust. As for her body, he pictured Narcissa\'s pale, thin frame, except in this case the breasts were just a bit fuller, the nipples a dark shade of brown and the curly pubic hair brunette in color.

His eyes flew back to the shelf, where the vial containing the lust potion seemed to glitter invitingly in the firelight.

It would be dangerous. Very dangerous.

But, after all, he thought, propping his chin on his interlaced fingers as his mind began to work feverishly on the various possible scenarios-

He was no coward.