A Wizard's Debt

Ithilin Palandiriel, I went and had a look, the canon I am referring to was indeed Pachabel – however, the 2 CDs I have with it on both say it was Mozart! I suspect the disks are by the same company – and I bet Pachabel would be hopping mad if he was alive and knew about it!! I went back and changed it in the chapter. Thanks for pointing it out to me, though I’m not sure what I can do about the CDs?? Though, I’m glad that someone recognised the title – it is a truly beautiful piece of music.

Oh well, despite the fact that another Master wrote it, it won’t stop me walking down the isle to it! I really don’t like the Wedding March, the cannon is so much more bouncy and beautiful, happier.

Listen here: http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=6wpPk8qk3uQ


slytherin-princess my beta lives with me, but she’s a smidge poorly at the mo, she’s missed a few whoopsies, but catches most of them – even feeling like death warmed up. Though, thanks for the offer; a writer’s best friend is their beta reader!

Hey! What’s up with Michael?? It’s a very nice name! Oh well, can’t win them all. *blows raspberry then runs away*

Right, I’ll stop being childish, and provide what you’ve been *eh hem* nagging for! THE WEDDING NIGHT, though I’ll warn you, it isn’t wonderful smut; it draws on my own, real-life experiences with my fiancé when we were teens.

WARNING: lemmings playing for first time.


Severus.


We had been officially bound at twelve minutes past one, and the sand slowly trickled down in the hourglass the priest had handed me. We had until the last grain fell to consummate or be locked in Azkaban.

Three quarters of the sand had fallen into the bottom bulb. We had three hours, as long as I dare leave it.

It was a quarter-past-eleven when the final speech was spoken by Lucius, bidding us both a pleasant future and a prosperous evening – as is the tradition in the wizarding world; basically it was a tactful way of putting a huge ‘do not disturb sign’ over us as we escaped the great hall to our suite of rooms. No body tried to talk to us, hold us up, wish us good luck or congratulate us – they stood by and let us go. I offered my arm to the shining angel in white at my side, and she took it with a shaking hand.

We could have portkeyed away to an exotic honeymoon tonight; but Hermione had requested that this very first time be in our bed, in our home – not a borrowed location. Though, we’d be portkeying away to the Malfoy private island, hidden nicely away from Muggles in the Bermuda triangle, tomorrow afternoon.

The rooms were warm as we entered, a fire burning steadily in the hearth; it glowed blue for a moment as I completely disabled the floo. Even emergencies could sod off tonight, tonight was a first for us both… a true first for Hermione, but my foremost actual attempt at making love to a woman.

Some say there is no difference between the various names given to the act of sexual intercourse; some say its all the same: insert part A into opening B, wiggle a bit until climax then remove part A from opening B… but I am assured by Narcissa (my only real female friend since the incident with Lilly in school) and Marcia (a surrogate Mother) that there is indeed a difference.

I’m no innocent, and if this beautiful creature gazing in awe at the small mountain range of shrunken presents in the lounge, knew of some of the things I have experienced… well, I dread to think of her reaction. I’ve had sex with, fucked, shagged, rolled in the hay (literally, I ended up with dried grass in places I didn’t know I had!), mated, copulated… all with rather questionable ladies; but never have I attempted to make love to a woman.

Unfortunately, when asking Narcissa and Marcia what actually comprised making love, their reply was ‘it’s indescribable’.

Useful.

So, I swallowed my pride and asked Lucius, a man who had been a brother to me.

“Its complicated, It isn’t one thing – it’s the ability to know what she wants and give her it. It can be slow or fast; gentle or hard; tender or rough… but it all falls down to reading her and obliging her wishes completely, showing you love her physically; with gentle cuddles afterward, even when you want to fall asleep – you need to cuddle.” He’d said; his answer was no easier to understand than his wife’s and Marcia’s! Though, luckily I possess one skill that many husbands wish they had… I am a mind reader, and I wouldn’t actually have to penetrate her mind, she thinks freely regardless of my skills and her ability to shield her mind from me.

“I didn’t realise so many people were here today, this pile of presents is huge!” she whispered, gently pulling my Mother’s combs from her hair and removing the pearl necklace; the gift from Draco and Oliver joined them on the little table by the fire, she couldn’t get to the jewellery box and not upset the badly stacked gifts.

“I didn’t think I knew so many people! Though, many of them were those I went to university with; and their wives, husbands and children. Some old friends and their close family. Perhaps I can keep in touch now they cannot be used as a bribe by a dictator?” I said, standing behind her and running my fingers through stunning curls that no doubt required a lot of work.

“We’re stalling, aren’t we?” she whispered, turning to look at me with wide doe eyes that could make even the frostiest heart melt.

“Come, Mrs. Snape, lets get you out of this dress.” I said, offering my hand, entering the bedroom, I wasn’t sure weather to kill Lucius or kiss him for what he’d done to it.

A dozen candles floated around the room, casting it in a warm, flickering glow; the suddenly red and cream bed hangings matched the white satin sheets on the turned down bed, burgundy and white rose petals were sprinkled on the floor around the bed and over the pillows; a bottle of champagne sat under a chilling charm with two ornate flutes; a huge bunch of blood red roses sat in a vase on the dresser.

“Oh! Its, its, its, its so…”

Ridiculous? Over the top? Gryffindor? Lucius-ish? Even worse – Lockheart-esque?! My mind supplied.

“So… romantic. Thank-you for this.” She said, throwing her arms around my waist and leaning her cheek onto my chest. It looked like I would be kissing Lucius rather than killing him, though I’d get hexed for it, so a thank-you was probably a safer option.

“Would you like help with the dress.” I asked, placing the timer on the windowsill, watching as she picked up one of the long-stemmed blooms and brought it to her nose.

“Oh, stop being such a gentleman! It does not suit my house!” called Slytherin from his portrait in the lounge, barging into the landscape in the bedroom and leaning against a tree.

“If he isn’t a gentleman, I will hex him with something that will take years to put right.” Hermione said with a growl at the founder.

“This maid has entirely too much fire – I like that. Brains too – a Ravenclaw?” Salazar said, stroking his goatee.

“No. I was sorted into Gryffindor.” She said, smiling at the repulsed face in the picture, “And I know some interesting spells that can be used on portraits that don’t behave – plus I could just as easily lock you in with your enemy – Godric is probably rather lonely in Gryffindor tower.”

“You dare to threaten me! Ha! A Gryffindor!”

“I’m not daring, This Gryffindor is threatening you! Go away of your own free will or I will force you out of our bedroom. My threats are not empty.” Hermione said, pulling her wand from her cleavage and aiming at Slytherin.

“Well, you’re Slytherin now – and Salazar is going to be polite and leave us to our wedding night…”

“Wedding night?! Why didn’t you say so?” he cried, bowing to us, “In my day, a bride wore blue as a sign of purity! When did it become white? I do apologise.”

“1306, when the bleaching spell was invented.” Hermione said quietly.

“Congratulations, Severus, Milady. I might just go and bother Godric after all…”

I waved my wand, turning the red hangings to a more suitable Slytherin green, before attacking the buttons down the back of her dress, I do wish the wizarding world would rediscover the zip – but after saint Mungo’s removed a lot of trapped male appendages from them they were practically outlawed by robe makers.

The heavy white creation gently swished to the floor once I let go, revealing a pristine white corset and soft long chemise. Hermione picked up the dress, handing it on the front of the wardrobe.

“They lace at the middle?” I said noticing the corset’s bow wasn’t where I had expected it to be (the bottom). I thought they were just like unlacing boots. There was no end to the ribbon, just two loops. The ladies I had indulged in previously didn’t wear such confining garments.

“Yes.” She whispered.

“Does it unfasten at the front?” I asked, hopeful. She turned, revealing a heaving bosom and no fastenings.

“No. Don’t cut it or rip it though – I wouldn’t want to attempt lacing one from scratch.” She said quietly.

“Zikky.” I called, the elf appearing instantly, “Please bring Lady Malfoy here, it is a matter of great importance and emergency.”

***

“What’s all this fuss?” Narcissa said, entering the bedroom, followed closely by Lucius.

“Arrrgh! Out!” Hermione screeched, clutching my recently discarded waistcoat to her chest on spotting Lucius.

“Lucius, please wait in the other room?” I said, before wands were drawn.

“I’m not going to feint again, you’re scaring her.” Narcissa hissed, noting Hermione’s pale face. The blonde wizard reluctantly left the bedroom. “What’s the emergency, Severus?”

“How do we get the corset off?” I said, smiling sheepishly.

“Turn around Mrs. Snape, and hold the bedpost… though this isn’t really an emergency, Severus.” Narcissa said, slowly tugging at the criss-crossing laces down Hermione’s slender back.

“Look at the timer.” I whispered, there was precious little sand left.

“Ah – I’ll do this as quickly as possible then. I used to do this for Bella and Meda when I was younger.” She said, deftly tugging and pulling in what appeared to be a precise order. “Now I understand why Marcia dressed you personally, a corset with no front fastening is a nightmare to put on – though she could adapt it to have them easily for future wearing.”

“Severus, you can’t get a woman out of her underwear?” Lucius giggled from the door, “Don’t worry, Madam Snape, my back is turned.”

“I haven’t actually had that much practice at removing corsets.” I muttered.

“Lucius has – though he probably doesn’t want anyone to know that he stole one of his Mother’s and practiced unlacing it from one of his pillows! He can get a corset of quicker than a brassiere!” Narcissa giggled, earning a groan of embarrassment from her husband.

“So that’s what you were doing behind your drapes in the dormitory!” I laughed, knowing full well he wasn’t just unlacing corsets under the privacy of the curtains and a silencing charm. What Hogwarts teenage lad didn’t know a silencing spell for his bed hangings?

“I once caught Ron and Harry practicing unhooking a bra from a pillow, a pair of socks in the cups. They were trying to undo it one handed in their dorm – I still don’t know how they got one of my bras!” Hermione chuckled meekly, trembling more as the underwear loosened.

“See! It wasn’t just me!” Lucius griped, practically growling.

“Ah ha! There you are, Mrs. Snape. Free at last. Arms up.” Narcissa said, slowly tugging the heavy silk and dragon bone from Hermione and over her russet curls.

“T-thank-y-you.” Hermione whispered, shaking violently.

“He is a good man.” Narcissa whispered in Hermione’s ear, “But he can’t spare you the fear and pain. It gets better, I promise.” She gently kissed Hermione’s cheek and wiped the large tear that was falling from her face. “Come on, Lucius, Let me check on my other baby before we retire – though I’d rather stay the night in the Ravenclaw dormitory, not the Slytherin one; but I can’t apperate, floo or portkey home in my condition – and I’m not flying at this time of night.” She chattered randomly.

“I’ve had a little too much wine to do those myself, along with most of the guests; the dormitories are going to be rather full this night.” Lucius replied, closing the door and leaving us alone, their muted conversation quietening as they walked back to the reception.

I pulled the ties holding the chemise to her shoulders, letting it cascade down her figure to the floor, revealing a pair of gleaming white satin knickers.

Could I be reminded more of what I was doing tonight?

***

“I am most honoured to be given this privilege twice, Hermione.” I whispered, laying us down and pulling up the now green satin quilt. I was bare, but I had left her underwear on, giving her that little comfort.

“I’d have done that for any of the light – to lose you would be a waste of life.” She whispered, shaking as one of my hands gently rubbed her stomach, slowly drifting lower.

“I have an idea.” I said, leaving the luxury of the bed and searching the bathroom cabinet for a rub-in painkilling potion I use on my back. I quickly diluted its concentration with pure water and thickened its contents with a spell. It was the consistency of lubricant, but not too strong as to numb all sensation.

“This should help.” I said, explaining the potion quickly to my wife, she smiled at me, instantly glad it wouldn’t be as bad as she had been told.

Carefully I tugged the last of her clothing away, dropping it over the side of the bed; slowly I dipped numbing fingers into her, spreading the sweet-smelling potion into her femininity, feeling the tension leave it as she relaxed and responded to my touch.

***

“P-please, l-let m-me d-do t-that.” She stuttered, taking the little packet from me.

“I can follow instructions.” I said, feeling a little belittled.

“Y-yes, but you didn’t p-practice on the b-b-banana…”

“No, but I had a practice this morning…” I said, taking the packet back and efficiently covering myself.

“Why?”

“I woke up early, and did not wish to disappoint this evening, though they feel rather unnatural – despite what the packaging says.”

She looked at me and gave a week laugh, smiling shyly.

***

“There isn’t much sand left.” She whispered as I hovered over her, poised at her entrance but not inside.

“I am so, so sorry for this, I don’t think the ointment went as far as your barrier.” I said, gently easing in.

“The quill…”

“Probably only made a small hole in it, rather than completely tearing through.” I whispered, watching as her face contorted in pain, regardless of the potion.

“Still hurts.”

“I’m sorry, I’m hardly inside you.” I whispered, pausing to let her adjust, not daring to glace at the timer.

“Just do it, quickly. All at once. Get it over with.” She hissed, her voice suddenly clear and strong.

“That’s probably going to be worse.” I warned, reluctant.

“It is going to hurt whatever we do, but at least like that its all done in one go.” She pulled my face down into a gentle kiss, “After three: one… two… three…”

It was not gentle, she was far too snug to just slide in with ease; she screeched in my ear as she stretched to accommodate my invasion.

“Shhh. That’s it.” I whispered, raising up onto my elbows to look down into her face – a face that may haunt me forever. Her eyes were screwed shut, large tears dripping over lashes and down into her curls; her lips were swollen with being bitten, and she was deathly pale.

“Sorry.” She sobbed, reaching for my hand and squeezing tight.

“Shhh. Nothing to be sorry for, nothing at all.” I whispered, noticing there was so little sand left in the timer.

“I no this is going to ruin the romantic mood… but can we get this over with?” she whispered, staring into my eyes.

“I’m not very good at romantic, I’ll have to learn for the future.” I said softly, kissing her gently before, to use her words, ‘getting this over with’.