The Tempest

The Tempest


By: Max

[Disclaimer: see chapter 1]

Chapter 7: Narcissa’s Journal, part 7: Happiness


You sometimes call me a “night owl” because I’m always up at least until midnight. And you’re right. I love the night. I love sitting by the fire when ever humming Hogwarts – almost 500 children staying at one place, even when it is so big as Hogwarts, make for a lot of noise and so even on the main tower one always hears that the castle is inhibited by a lot of people – falls asleep. I love to look out at the stars – I’m still searching the sky for Polaris whenever I look at it – and I love to feel the freedom nights give me.

Yet this night – our first one – I didn’t want to stay up. I longed all day for the dark to fall so that I could go to bed. And so, after eating a big dinner – yes, of course, I want to gain a little weight. Therefore I’m even eating chocolate though I never was as fond of it as you are – I went up in my bathroom. I took a long, luxurious bath. Then I washed my hair, spent almost half and hour with spreading rose oil all over my body before I finally took my wand and my dressing gown and went downstairs.

Although I’d never been in your bedroom, I knew of course where it is – the floor over the library. Opening the door quietly as if I could disturb someone inside, I slipped in and lightening the candles, I looked around.

I must admit that I was surprised. I had thought your rather modern bedroom in Rome had perhaps come with the flat and besides – Rome was kind of “impersonal”. But your bedroom in Hogwarts is very personal – and certainly not what one expects from a wizard of your generation.

First: It’s very bright. The walls of the half round room are covered with cream brocades and so is the huge bed – not the four posters with stuffy hangings I’d expected, but a rather plain, but elegant bed, standing on a little plateau opposite the fireplace. The bed is flanked by shelves from white wood, filled with books and some beautifulls als and a few of the fine silver instruments you’re so fond of. But what touched me was a jar, filled with sherbert lemons just on the board next to your bed.

In front of the fireplace stands a cosy looking modern blue sofa, flanked by two matching chairs and a low table from the same wood as the bookshelves. A white hibiscus stood on the table, its delicate flowers with the red heart at their inside reminded me of your mouth, surrounded by the white beard. On one of the chairs laid your dressing gown, a magnificent piece from velvet in burgundy with gold embroidered, the inside an even darker red silk with a pattern of tiny golden letters. Looking closer, I recognized them as the initial “APWBD” and needed a moment to get it – your entire name is Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, quite a mouth full, but suited you.

On the mantelpiece I a p a photograph in a silver frame. It was a very old one, not even moving and a bit paled. Taking it in my hand, I looked to a wizard’s family: A tall, thin man with shoulder length auburn hair, slightly curled, a broad forehead and cheerful, warm brown eyes over a rather crooked nose and a generous, wide mouth. The hairline, the forehead and the nose reminded me of you, but his face was rounder than yours.

The long face and the beautiful blue eyes you’ve obviously inherited from your mother who stood on the picture in front of your father with his hands on her shoulders. She was a breath taking beauty with raven hair and skin like the finest porcelain. Her mouth wasn’t as great as her husbands, but finely painted and looking sensitive – and you’ve got this mouth from her with the long, energetic chin. Your mother was in the photograph flanked by her two sons. The bigger, black-haired as her, wore the black robe with the crest of Hufflepuff house. The younger one with auburn hair like the father was clothed in a sailor’s suit. It was you, unmistakeably you, approximately five or six years old, bony and with long legs like a filly, but with the little belly I’ve thought you’d have. And those blue eyes and the mischievous smile – my, Albus, you were an adorable child!

I had a long look at the picture before I went to the bed, still thinking about it. I understood suddenly something about you what had always irritated me: Your trust in people. In Slytherin house it’s always seen as a weakness, as something which makes you prone to become misled by people. Yet with looking at the picture of you and your parents I learned that this trust is a kind of “payback”. You grew up with trusting people, didn’t you? You were the beloved son of parents you could trust entirely and you were trusted. So you learned it – and even with the disappointments you certainly experienced throughout your long life: You never stopped to trust in trusting. And even in failing sometimes – mostly your trust is rewarded. Even with Slytherins your love and trust works mostly – as it is to see with Severus who came back to you and who redeemed himself because he had your trust as he’d stopped to trust in himself.

I had wanted to wait for you, but lying in your bed, surrounded by the warmth of your blanket and your fragrance, I couldn’t hold my eyes open. Even without you it felt like the most secure place I had ever been. The nights before I hadn’t got much rest, so sleep overwhelmed me after only a few minutes. And I must have slept rather soundly because I neither heard you enter nor undress and I even didn’t notice how you crawled under the blanket. But then you were next to me and without becoming really awakened, I turned to you. You felt it and you stretched your arm invitingly. I shifted closer, laid my head on your shoulder and my hand on your naked chest, feeling the strong beat of your heart against my palm. Stretching against your tall frame I tried to come as close to you as possible with one leg over your tight and my entire body snuggled against your warmth.

Neither of us spoke. I knew you had probably talked and listened all day and you needed silence. Besides I had nothing to say. What should have been important enough to break the peace of this moment? For me it was enough to lie in your arms, to feel your mouth in my hair and your hand on my back, moving slowly and lazily over my spine and up to my buttocks and up again, your fingers drawing little circles on my skin.

Slowly I let my hand wander too. The tips of my finger explored smooth skin over still well defined muscles, they met a few, whirly hair on the middle of your chest, hidden under your soft beard. I stroked it away and found a flat, soft nipple. As I touched it gently, it seemed to become alive, tightening and hardening. For a second you held your breath – not much, but it told me that you liked what I did. And then your hand found my breast, mimicking my moves gently, touching my nipple and as it responded eagerly, you laid your palm over it and cupping my entire breast you massaged it softly.

Your mouth searched for mine, gliding over my cheek, exploring the skin just under my lips and my chin, your whiskers softly tickling by it. You nibbled at my bottom lip, the tip of your tongue meeting mine, playfully teasing, tiny kisses between little licks, light as the touch of a butterfly’s wing. It was me who wanted more and opening my mouth; I laid my hand in your hair and pulled you closer. Our kiss was deep and long, it made me melt in your arms, but it wasn’t the hot, raw passion I felt in the morning, but gentle love.

And you broke this kiss and turning, you laid me on my back and your lips glided down, over my chin and neck to the hollow of my throat and even deeper, to the swell of my breast which arched for your touch and got it – soft kisses, nipping and a little sucking, not enough to still the need, but making it grow and I arched my back and tried to direct your attention to the wet emptiness between my legs. You let me wait – and it was almost as painful as your mouth went at last deeper, to my belly, licking around the button there, kissing the flesh just over my mound and then my tight. I spread my legs and I buckled and I thought I’d scream in frustration if you would make me wait any longer, but then you were where I needed you so much and your tongue met the swollen knob and I thought I’d die in pleasure as you licked over it. I hadn’t even supposed my body could feel such sensations. It was as if every little touch would send a spark of your magic through every cell of me and I felt more alive than ever before and filled with tenderness and love. And it became more and more until it was too much to keep and I felt like bursting and falling apart in tiny pieces of sheer bliss.

Coming back to reality, I saw you smile. You held me in your arms. On my leg I felt your massive erection and it made me – though I’d thought the second before I’d be entirely satisfied – needy again. And so I turned you around until you lay on your back – and what a willing victim you were! After the wild and demanding act in the morning I had been afraid - a bit at least – you would always like the part of the domineering lover. And as much as I was (and am) willing to give my self to you in total abandons – I wanted to make love to you too. So I loved this expectant and slightly amused look on your face and how you put your arms under your head as if you’d like to say: “Here I am – do with me what you want.”

I first looked at you. By reading it you grin now, do you? I knew it and you know what? You look pretty smug and cheeky. And if you don’t stop I’ll refuse to tell one word more.

I’m sure you didn’t stop. But when it comes to you, I’m not able to be consequent. So: Yes, it’s true. I did not look in your eyes in our first night. I looked at your groin – and heavens, isn’t it normal a woman is interested in the penis she had already – and with great pleasure! – Inside herself? And yours – I probably shouldn’t say that because you’re already vain enough, but truth is truth and in your case: The gods liked you – and me because your member is a very nice specimen of its kind. It’s not as huge as I first thought, but just the right size and as well-proportioned and elegant as the rest of you. And the skin of it is like fine, creamy velvet and the tip is slightly pink and shimmering like silk when you’re aroused.

But you know what still amazes me most? You can become incredibly hard in a incredibly short time!

Of course – I know your trick now. The first days with you I sometimes thought: “How did this man manage to do anything else as sex as he was young?” I mean … and would you please stop laughing, Albus? – you are 120 now and that’s even for wizard standards a ripe age and considered that we spent the first days of our relationship mostly in bed – or, better and exacter said, on the couch, on the carpet in front of the fireplace, under the shower, on the desk in my room, on the kitchen’s counter and even once on the balcony – you know I sometimes found it almost embarrassing. I mean I certainly wasn’t embarrassed by your lust for me, just on the contrary. But that I was (and am) so needy areedreedy, that I can’t keep my hands to myself when you’re close to me – and heavens, even Draco noticed!

On three afternoons in a row he wanted to talk about things that had happened in the school – like Umbridge sacking your divination teacher and yoing ing a great show in the hall. But I never had the slightest clue about it. And so he asked me the first time: “Didn’t the headmaster tell?”

I had to shake my head, mumbling something like “He was late that night and so we haven’t had much time for talking …”

The next day I had to say that again – and only ten minutes after you came, already in your “big” robes and cheerfully announcing you’d given yourself the rest of the day off. Yet on the next day I still didn’t know about the world outside and Draco said, a bit impatient: “Do you ever talk with Professor Dumbledore?”

I blushed – of course I blushed. I remembered that you had started to talk during our dinner, but … I had missed you all day and I wanted to be close to you. I really didn’t intend more than a little cuddling as I climbed in your lap, but … Albus, stop grinning! It was you who opened my robe and started to play with my breasts and then – sitting on an erection as the one you got in an instant is kind of uncomfortable! So I decided to put it where it would feel better than trapped between our bodies and then you lost every interest in politics or school’s or order’s business and we talked instead about how wonderful it is to be so close.

Draco can’t read minds, but he knows me very well and so he could read my face. He started to laugh. “Old Cracklebell said once, Dumbledore could do amazing things with his wand – if he’d only knew how right he obviously was!”

You’re really amazing with your “wand”. You know yourself so well and you’ve got such a grip at you that you are able to stop just a few seconds before you reach the “point of no return”. And as long as you avoid an ejaculation you can make love as long and as often as you want to. Admittedly: If you allow yourself a climax – and sweet Merlin, you sometimes still terrify me with the intensity and the power of them! I always think the castle would rock in its foundations by the amount of magic you radiate then – you’re out of the game for at least 24 hours afterwards. You don’t like this much – but I sometimes drive you over the point and not only because I lohe vhe vulnerability you show after an orgasm, but … I obviously don’t have your stamina. You’re the one who manages a big school and the resistance and our stupid minister while I spend my days with reading, writing and recovering from the passion of our nights, but I’m also the one suffering – well, not much and certainly not with dismay! – From soreness and feeling tired every morning. And if I didn’t give us a break at least twice a week, I’d be probably by now looking like the ghost of a cowboy who died after 24 hours in the saddle. And so I am glad that you’re 80 years my senior. I don’t think I could have coped with you and your energy when you were young.