One wish alone have I

Chapter 6
The summer feast

I was about to continue the rest of my story when I fully grasped the fact that it was not I, but he, who had just spoken. Astonishment made the tears dry instantly in my eyes. I slowly turned my head towards him. His eyes, as black as two drops of ink on a blank page, looked at me with feverish intensity. They conveyed the same expression I had seen, back in Oriana’s room, after I had tied him up. The same silent scream.

I tried to imagine him the way I had seen that man, the morning I buried my husband. The similarity soon became obvious. From what I had seen of Snape, all wrapped in his black cloak as he rode his hippogriff, they could very well be the same person indeed. And the voice… something was missing, in the voice I had just heard. Sweetness? No… innocence. Definitely innocence. And in its place, self-control, pushed to the point of feeling like coldness. But both voices, past and present, were made of the same vibrant baritone velvet. I took a deep breath and said, gravely:

“So it was you, back then? It was really you?”

“Yes,” he acknowledged.

“You must have been very young, at the time!”

“I was barely nineteen.”

“And what was a nineteen years old childe, oh! Sorry… what was an adolescent doing in a deserted pasture, in the middle of the night, watching a cainite bury her dead husband?”

“I am afraid that I am not allowed to tell you that,” he answered, sternly.

“Why not?” I exclaimed, taken aback.

“That, too, is impossible for me to tell,” he replied in a silky, but firm voice.

I wanted to know. I needed to know! I tried another way.

“Not even here? Can’t you tell me in here?”

“Not even here, Antanasia,” he briefly said, before he raised his mental barriers once again.

“Fine,” I retorted sharply. “Is there something else you can tell me about these events?”

He sighed and looked away. He seemed to debate again whether it was best for him to tell me what was on his mind or not. I started to get nervous. What could be so possibly difficult for me to hear? Had I perceived Arnaud’s last memories correctly? Were the facts different? Worse? I started tapping my fingers against the armrest of my chair, in quick and precise rhythms. I resolutely looked down, in order to give him some space to ponder his answer in peace. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his pale hand come close to mine but, as he was about to grab my fingers, he suddenly stopped his move and put his hand on his own armrest, next to mine. His deep voice made me startle.

“Are you sure you want to know this? Is it really in your best interest to dig these details from the past?”

“I need to know, that’s all,” I answered, decisively.

“Then, there is one thing or two I can tell you.”

I held my breath.

“You have guessed right most of the time, from what you have seen in your husband’s last memories. He was indeed captured, by the wizard you have seen. That wizard… is definitely not of a forgiving or soft nature. He was the one who questioned your husband. In his usual way.”

My hands started to tremble, but I kept listening, fixing an imaginary point somewhere in front of his knees.

“If it can bring any comfort to you, however… your husband resisted all the time. He did not say a word about the Order. He did transform however, at full moon. The wizard who kept him prisoner had the idea to put him in a closed room with a Muggle couple, a witch and two wizards. He hoped it would scare them enough to make them speak. That part did work, for most of them. But your husband resisted his hunting urges. He neither bit nor killed anybody.”

I grabbed the armrest and, closing my eyes, I tilted my head back. I was smiling. A soft sound, somewhere between a giggle and a moan, escaped from my parted lips. I whispered, savouring each and every word:

“He did not… he… did… not!”

His arm came closer to mine. I felt a slight pressure of his sleeve against my skin. But his hand stayed stubbornly on his armrest. One other question sneaked into my mind. Snape seemed to be on a talking mode, so I grabbed my chance.

“How did he die?” I asked, my voice quivering with mixed emotions.

“I think the wizard waited the next day, after his transformation was over. I figure he attempted one more interrogation and, obtaining no results, he… finished him off.”

The bluntness of his words slapped me hard, but the sudden drop in his voice suggested at least some respect. Sympathy would have been asking too much, I guess.

“Did he… did he mention me, at any time?” I articulated painfully, as if each word had a difficult time finding the way past my lips.

“I do not know. I was not present when all that happened. I guess you can figure that part from what you knew about him.”

“I guess…” I replied, pensively. “But then, if you weren’t there, how come you—”

“I already told you that I had nothing to say about that,” he brusquely interrupted.

I huffed in frustration and crossed my arms over my chest. The warmth that his arm had created, in contact with mine, vanished in a matter of seconds. If it had not been for my desire to keep some composure in front of him, I think I would have brought my feet up on my seat and circled my arms around my legs, in order to seek some protection and comfort. Hundreds of thoughts were buzzing restlessly in my head, as if the wizard’s words had hit a wasps’ nest.

At first, I tried to concentrate on the positive news. Arnaud, my Arnaud had kept his dignity until the end. Not only had he remained faithful to the Order of the Phoenix, but he had also been skilled enough to keep his mind and resist his animal persona after he had transformed. He died in atrocious conditions, but he died with an intact honour. Knowing that somewhat soothed the stinging pain that had been torturing my heart since that horrible day.

On the other hand, nothing in what he had said could possibly explain Snape’s presence at my side, during Arnaud’s burial. Was he passing there by chance? Possible, but not very plausible, I concluded. Had he been sent to spy on me? Still possible, but it would be surprising. What could possibly interest Voldemort to the point of sending one of his Death Eaters near London to spy on me, right after one of his men had killed my husband? What did he think I would do, bite his men randomly?

But maybe the wizard was not a Death Eater, at the time. He was only nineteen! Did Voldemort recruit them at such a young age? Yes, he did, it’s true… there was this young man, what was his name… Cook? Couch? No, something else… Crouch! The information finally emerged from old memories. He was the son of one of the government’s minister. He had joined Voldemort at a very young age…. So it was believable that Snape could have been a Death Eater already when he watched me that morning. I had nothing to lose; I chose to simply ask the question.

“That morning, when you talked to me… were you a Death Eater, at the time?” I asked, looking straight into his eyes.

If his reaction surprised me, his answer surprised me even more. He quickly got up and walked away from me, hiding his hands in his pockets. When he came back towards me, his eyebrows were frowned, deepening the severe line in the middle of his forehead. He leaned his hands against the back of his chair and asked me, with a voice that showed the slightest sign of disappointment:

“You really do not remember?”

“Remember what?” I inquired.

“After I talked to you… your reaction,” he stated, hesitantly.

“From what I remember, you quickly Disapparated. I do not think I told you anything.”

But strangely, something inside me suggested that what I had just declared was not the entire truth.

“Did I say anything?” I asked.

He only raised an eyebrow and resumed his walk around the room. I figured it was his way to show me that he wanted to end the conversation right there. I did make a few attempts to question him further, but my words hit a wall of ice. He did not say anything else for the rest of the night. Nevertheless, the lack of animosity in his glance suggested me that my explanations did penetrate his mind. Enough to make him hear my reasons, as explained by me in person in addition to what he already knew, at least. I cannot say that he forgave me, and I was certainly not asking him to do so, but at least he seemed to understand. That part of his reaction made me feel a little bit better with myself.

Two hours later, at the crack of dawn, his extra serving of nourishing potion tasted like crème brûlée.

*************

“I was wondering why Ivantie has tied my hands again, but I figure out why quite well, now,” said Snape as he got a glimpse of the blade I held in my hand.

“And a very good evening to you as well, Professor,” I said, hiding my smile as I walked to the chairs.

He stayed right on spot and looked at me, a little bemused. Letting amusement curl the corners of my lips, I put a hand on my hip.

“What is it that you figured that much?” I finally asked, seeing that he would not move.

“That I was right, the first time you came here. I do not see what good I could think when I see a woman looking at me with a knife in her hands.”

“Oh, that?” I exclaimed joyfully. “It is not a knife, it is only a razor blade.”

“Which does not change my conclusions much,” he grumpily commented.

“Professor, that beard does not do you any justice. You will start looking like a rachitic giant! Don’t you think a shave would make you feel, and look, much better?”

“I thought I had already told you that I have nothing to do with your pity,” he retorted tensely, as if I had insulted him.

I had expected his reluctance, so I was prepared for it.

“Look,” I said, frowning in a manner that he seemed to affectionate. “If you think I do it by pity, or even by fun, you are very much mistaken. The Lady asked me to shave you because she plans to pay you a little visit later tonight. I would have much preferred to leave the task to you, but I cannot afford to take the risk of putting a potential arm in your hands, as much for your own safety than for ours. That is, you will guess, the reason why Ivantie tied your hands before he left.”

He snorted, but did not reply with anything.

“Now, either you willingly come here, sit down and stay very still, either I find another way to make you reach that seat, but I do not guarantee that your feet will stay on the floor during the transfer. Your choice!” I barked.

The truth is, it was Ivantie who had suggested a good shave. But I had pestered him over and over to let me do it in his place. For some reason, I just love doing that. The look of trust, sometimes freckled with fear that I see on men’s face as I press the blade against their skin. The discreet feel of blood pounding in their veins when I shave their throat… the way they hold their breath when I reach sensitive spots around their lips…

“So, shall we proceed?” said a low voice next to me.

I startled and the razor slid off my hand. With a muffled thud, it landed right onto the armrest, next to Snape’s left arm. Before I could react, he seized the blade between his agile fingers. He looked at me, his eyes flickering with mirth. But he only handed me the razor and comfortably leaned back in the armchair. I took place behind him.

His hair was still a bit damp when I pushed it back. It was very thick, as I had guessed, but it offered a surprisingly smooth touch as my fingers leisurely ran through his locks. As I did, I got a glimpse of his eyelids as they dropped down lazily, just like a cat would purr while being gently scratched behind the ears. It happened in a heartbeat, but long enough for me to pull myself together and change for more distant attentions. I think it had the same effect on him, because he straightened in his chair at once.

I first cut off as much beard as I could with a pair of scissors. After I coated his cheeks, chin and throat with shaving foam, I approached the razor blade from his skin, but my hand froze a few inches from its target. I think the look he gave me would have stopped even a dragon’s charge.

“What?” I said, looking at him from upside down.

I only heard an indistinct mumble. I had taken care of spreading foam even over his mouth, to increase my chances of enjoying the task in silence. I think he inadvertently let some past his lips as he attempted to speak, because the foam bubbled a little and his features distorted in a quick grimace.

“Don’t speak, Professor, you’ll swallow some foam,” I suggested, trying not to laugh.

“I said be careful!!” repeated his voice in my mind, very impatiently.

“Don’t worry, I have done this hundreds of times, before. Just trust me.”

“Should I?”

“Well, I have had the occasion to kill you several times and to my knowledge, I did not take any of them. Even if I did want to murder you, I would choose a… less sloppy method. A sensitive cainite like me just could not stand such a useless wasting of fresh blood…” I explained, putting the blade against his cheek.

He shivered, but did not move. He did not breathe much either, I suppose. His eyes kept travelling from the razor to my eyes. He did not miss the smallest of my moves. He was so tense that I wonder if his back even touched the back of the chair. His hands remained half way between his lap and his face, his long fingers outstretched and ready to grab my hand, just in case I did anything suspect.

I kept the best for the end: his throat. I slowly moved the blade against his skin, shivering as I felt the quick and regular pounding of his heart in his carotid. I took all my time, enjoying the vulnerable position in which I put him, as his head leaned against my stomach and offered his beautiful throat to my care.

I had my little plan in mind. I had done a great deal of thinking the morning before, while preparing his nourishing potion. I had already figured long before that the wizard did not respond well to pressure. My doubts had been confirmed when Niculaie, Valeriu and Marilena’s efforts had failed. He did not respond well to sweetness either, as Cami had concluded. But he did respond to me. For some reason, I seemed to make him react. I had tried to figure out why I was the specific target for such interest, but despite the new information he had given me the night before about our very first encounter, things still remained very much obscure. Nevertheless, the fact he was talking to me was something to take in consideration.

Ivantie thought it was the way he had found to manipulate me. He suggested me to wait no longer and have a frank and direct conversation with the wizard about the Order of the Phoenix and his Dark Mark. On the other hand, Marilena saw his attitude as a personal outrage directed to her and spent half an hour lecturing me about what topics I should have already covered with the wizard. In a word, she was green with envy. Cami suggested that he was depressed and needed more comfort, basing her conclusions on his apparently softened attitude at the end of her last visits. Curiously, she is the one who made me elaborate my first plan.

I remembered that Snape had shown his short temper quite a few times, during our encounters. In fact, he had been very impulsive in these occasions. When I thought about it, I realized that what he had in fact reacted to the most was rejection. Each time I had wanted to push him away, he had come a bit closer. I first thought that ignoring him completely would do the trick. But then I changed my mind. Snape would not suddenly come to me and babble about everything related to his service at Voldemort’s side just because I stopped talking to him.

But seeing Marilena pacing the room like a lion in cage, while Cami thoughtfully sat in her corner of the room, I finally thought of something useful. Inaction. That is almost an unbearable thing, for someone who is short-tempered. And imprisoned, in addition. As long as we kept pressuring him, questioning him about his allegiance, he was kept very busy, resisting our attacks. We even made him feel important, which probably fed his childish arrogance. I thought that, if we made him believe that we had abandoned our efforts about him and all acted if we had something more important on our mind, say, going on with the life we had before his arrival, he would soon ask himself what purpose his silence served. If he asked himself that question often enough, maybe he would slowly consider changing his mind.

This is how, an hour after I finished shaving a reluctant but minimally obliging Snape, Marilena entered the dungeon. She showed him a rolled piece of parchment and explained:

“My dear professor Snape, I find it very disappointing that we cannot obtain your cooperation and get clearer information about the true goal of your mission here. As discussed with the elders of the clan, it is impossible to send you back to England, not unless we know the sincere object of your allegiance. We cannot execute you either, for the same reasons. You see, I always prefer to know which side I am fighting against, before I declare war.”

She unrolled the parchment and shook it under Snape’s prominent nose.

“You can imagine that we had already thought of an explanation for your absence and silence, in case Dumbledore would inquire about your whereabouts. Ironically, no owl has reached me yet, about you. Not from Dumbledore, not from any member of the Order. That, in itself, does not help your case much. Unless they are particularly calm and reserved people, they do not seem to be bothered much about your last weeks of silence.”

She dropped the parchment on Snape’s lap, so he could read it.

“As you can see, I have written a letter to Dumbledore and I am just about to send it by owl. The message is quite straightforward. It tells him about your departure from Zaharia, three weeks ago, and reminds him of how I had agreed with you that I would write him after a reflection period to tell him about the clan’s decision. I express him my profound regret about my lack of definite answer and blame it on the clan meetings, which are so difficult to organize at this time of the year. I inform him that we are still negotiating and that I shall write again in an indefinite period of time. Oh and I end my letter asking him to transmit my salutations and best regards to that charming Professor Snape, who travelled so far to deliver his message, with my hope that he made a safe trip back home.”

Her tone changed abruptly from magisterial to threatening.

“That, my friend, means that the last place Dumbledore will come looking for you is in here, as you can totally count on me to firmly deny having seen you after the official week you spent with us. And even if he comes, we will certainly manage to successfully keep him away from anything that could link him to you. In the meantime, however, rest assured that I will seriously reconsider giving my help to any of you humans, no matter what side. Believe me, my clan has always been very autonomous and I do not see why that would change. I guess that could make you conclude that your mission, at least the official one if there really was one, has lamentably failed. You only have your own lack of cooperation to blame and I have wasted enough of my precious time on your case. If you decide to open your mouth, be bloody certain that what you say is the purest truth, otherwise I shall not show you such mercy twice.”

Her tone changed once again, from threatening to syrupy.

“In the meantime, I will soften your imprisonment conditions. We would not want you to die on us while in our care, my dear. Nevertheless, I hope you do find your apartments appealing, because you might stay there for a long, very long time. After all… you’re the one getting older, we have got plenty of time to wait!”

And on these last words, she took the letter and left. Snape did not react much, as far as I can tell. Maybe he did not buy Marilena’s speech, but I did not worry. What had been said in words would soon be repeated in each and every night’s monotony and the message would sink in sooner or later. I just made sure that the wizard had, at least, a proper bed for him to sleep a bit more comfortably, in hope it would vanish those dark shadows under his eyes. I also provided him with a second armchair, in prevision of my next visits. They had been carefully planned to be irregular and unpredictable, as if I had a thousand of other things to do.

That part was not so far from the truth, however. That same night, I started the Veritaserum. Ivantie had generously offered to supervise Andrei during the first stages of his transformation and, later that night, I found them precisely at our meeting point. What I saw there filled my heart with joy and pride. Ivantie was sitting on a large rock and Andrei, fully transformed, was sitting next to him. Both were very calm and gave me very posed looks as I approached. They made such a strange pair that I laughed openly when I reached their level.

Ivantie reassured me about Andrei’s state. He had successfully stayed in total contact with his human persona the whole time. As expected, his forces eventually weakened at some point during the night and he definitely required my assistance, but that trial proved to be very encouraging, for both of us. Ivantie and I stayed with Andrei until the sun rose and he felt steady enough to go back home by himself, with a renewed self-assurance… and a good provision of lotions and potions to soothe his transformation scratches and the after-attack symptoms.

Along with the Veritaserum, I started a few other projects that I had put aside some months before. Marilena put me officially in charge of what was called the “wizard problem” during the meetings. Given my abilities as a mental healer and the way Severus Snape reacted to me, it was decided that it was the best option, until the Veritaserum would be ready, four weeks later.

I visited the Professor every two or three nights, at irregular times. At first, he sank back in his mulish silence. I figure he probably thought that I was the one responsible for the sudden change in our attitude. I guess he was not too happy about it; and obviously I do not blame him. Nevertheless, with my perseverance, my arrival got greeted with a glance, then, with him rising up from his chair. Little by little, I felt his heart beat slower under the razor blade and his eyes close completely when I pushed his hair back…

I admit that at times, I had to refrain myself from going to the dungeon earlier than planned… or literally one night in advance. Do not get me wrong, here. My heart had not changed its inclinations that much for the wizard. If it beat faster when I passed his door, it was merely because, from being just one Death Eater, he had become a source of information about Arnaud. Even if we had not mentioned my late husband again, I still clung to the hope that, maybe, he would at least tell me a little bit more about his last moments.

That is why, despite my still very present hatred for what the Dark Mark meant on his forearm, I swallowed my anger and tried to be as nice as possible. During my first visit, I brought one of my poetry books and casually “forgot” it on my armchair before I left. As I write about that particular book, however, I remember an incident that happened around two weeks after my first visit to the dungeon.

The night was splendid; I remember that very well. As always towards mid-August, the Ephemeredes were highlighting the sky with hundreds of shooting stars. I had spent quite a long time watching them on the top of one of Zaharia’s turrets and it is with a slight regret that I had left that magical place to go down into the depths of the dungeon. I had barely entered the room when I exclaimed, still inebriated with the astronomy wonders I had seen:

“It is really a shame that you cannot come outside, Professor. The sky is exceptionally clear. There are so many visible stars that I almost felt their weight above my head!”

He said nothing. I felt very embarrassed, all of a sudden.

“I am sorry. My enthusiasm was very silly,” I said, clumsily. “I tend to forget that you are imprisoned, at times…”

“I thought that detail was rather obvious, on the contrary,” he replied moodily.

I blushed. But what he said gave me an idea.

“Well, Professor Snape, when you cannot bring the man to the stars, you just bring the stars to the man!”

He looked at me with a strange expression, just like a cat would watch the approach of a soapy wet towel.

“Lie down on the ground,” I said.

It did not improve his expression much.

“Just do it! I’ll lie down too in just a few seconds,” I added, encouragingly.

I waved my hand and a large blanket appeared on the ground. He stood right where he was, except that one of his eyebrows had slowly risen, adding curiosity to his apparent apprehension. I shrugged my shoulders and walked to the middle of the room. Looking at him, I winked and said:

“Let me blow the candles first.”

I curled my lips and let out a gentle blow. All the torches and candles in the room extinguished themselves. The total darkness we were plunged in did not last for long, however. Taking a deep breath, I raised both my arms to the ceiling and recited the familiar words:

“Stelle Magnificare!”

The ceiling seemed to vanish and, above it, all the upper floors did the same. In its place, a magnificent dome appeared above our heads. The starry night met our eyes, as if it had been trapped in a slightly curved magnifying glass. There was no moon in that sky, but the stars’ light sufficed for us to see our whereabouts in the room. I turned to Professor Snape and smiled. Such an enchanted ceiling always had a soothing effect on my soul.

“When I was a child –a human one, you know, when nights were made for sleeping,” I explained, while lying down on the blanket, “my father used to do that when he tucked me in bed. I always asked him to, because believe it or not, I was scared that what I called a vampire might come and bite me during the night,” I giggled.

“Is that what finally happened?” he asked, lying down next to me.

“No! No… I would have looked much younger!” I answered, laughing merrily. “Father always knew how to calm me down. I was a much anxious child, always asking myself questions that were much too adult for my short experience of life.”

“Such as?”

“Oh, such as… why do people have to die? I think that one was my favourite. I was fascinated by the finality of human existence, which for a little witch of my age was a curious question to think about, as children of that age do not even grasp the concept of death.”

“So you were a witch, before?”

“Absolutely, and if you ask me, I still am! I have never lost contact with those magical powers, as you witnessed. I even improved and broadened them over time.”

“What period were you born in?”

“Professor Snape, you ask too many questions! Such a splendid sky should have produced the contrary effect by now! Haven’t you looked?”

“I am looking right now,” said the vibrant voice on my side.

“Well, don’t just look, then! Let yourself be totally surrounded by that sky…. You will soon forget all your problems. It has always worked for me,” I suggested.

We stopped talking for a few minutes. It allowed me to become fully aware of his presence, next to me. I tried to remain as natural as possible, but started to ask myself why my spontaneity had made me create such a casual and intimate situation with the wizard. He broke the silence first.

“Have you always been that close to nature?”

“Oh, yes! I derive most of my powers from Mother Nature herself. Cerridwen, in my case.”

“Isn’t Cerridwen a Celtic goddess?”

“You’re right. She has been the protector of my family, when I lived. She still is, for my family’s descendants. Though they do not take the time to feel her presence as much as we did when I was young. My short, but active afterlife allowed me, as I said, to cultivate my powers, so I can feel nature’s vibrations with a lot of acuity.”

Ironically, my acuity was very much directed on my left side, rather than above my head. A bit troubled, I continued on a more philosophical subject.

“You asked me why I love nature so much; the answer is a simple one. Nature is a treasure that replenishes itself over and over, in a never-ending cycle. No matter how humans may destroy it, it always finds its own way to come back, in whatever form. When I lose hope in humanity, it helps me bring it back.”

“How so?”

“Most beings like myself, and most probably like yourself from what you told me, do not have to live long to discover that everything in this universe is ephemeral.”

“How true…” he simply commented, in a grave and thoughtful tone.

“Anger, sadness, war, peace, love, friendship… everything comes to an end one of these nights. When you fully feel the meaning of that, your life suddenly seems useless, pointless. You stop believing in what you believed before, as it seems to be doomed to slide through your fingers one day, to disappoint you.”

“You tell me…” he added, in the same tone.

“But when you live long enough, you discover that those things you believed lost always come back in one form or another. You witness the cycle of life not as merely a chain of events repeating themselves, but as an evolution cycle. Those things you believed lost were in fact still hidden somewhere, waiting to bloom in an other place, in an other colour. The trick is to keep moving in the same wave, along with time passing by, in order to be able to see, feel these new blossoms.” I paused. “I hope I am not too weirdly philosophical for you, I tend to do that if you let me speak too much!”

“Not at all, I follow you very well on the contrary,” he replied seriously.

“Well… as I said, when I look at things such as that splendid sky above our heads, and I feel so small, just like that shooting star, there, that merely flashed a split second among all these other stars… I tell myself that it does not matter if that shooting star disappeared from my view. Somebody, something else is watching it right now.”

“And if it disappears from everybody’s view? Then isn’t it definitely lost?”

“Not at all, Professor Snape! It exists in the minds of those who saw it. It exists in the trace it left when it scratched its way through the velvet of the sky! All is a matter of being able to feel it the way it transformed.”

“Can I ask you one thing?” he asked, quietly.

“Certainly,” I answered, curious but a bit apprehensive about what would come next.

“Why do you keep calling me Professor Snape if I have been calling you Antanasia for over a month now?”

“I call you Professor Snape for two specific reasons,” I explained, smiling. “First of all, I believe teaching is your profession… and secondly, you have a family name, which I don’t. I do not see why I would not use it.”

“Surely you had a family name before.”

“Of course, but I lost its use when I received the Embrace, along with my name. Sires give each fledgling a new name, usually from the Sire’s country of origin, according to the events surrounding the Embrace or to a vision the Sire might have had during the rebirth.”

“What does Antanasia mean?”

“Antanasia is a Romanian name. So was my Sire. During my rebirth process, he had indeed a vision about my future. He always refused to tell me what it was, no matter how I insisted. He said it would come to me when the time would be right. Antanasia means the one who will be reborn.”

“Reborn?”

“Oh don’t get us there! I have done centuries of thinking over that one and I am still struggling my way through dozens of possibilities!”

“And that family name?”

“You could call me by my clan’s name. I would then be Antanasia from Zaharia. But that does not compare to the family names of your kind.”

“Then how do you differentiate the casual from the formal form?”

“All is in the tone. I could have called you Severus and still make it sound as if I was saying Professor Snape. We have a very fine ear to discern such nuances. But when we meet humans, we prefer using family names, to avoid shocking anyone. Likewise, we tolerate humans’ lack of politeness when they involuntarily address us in… peculiar ways…”

“Did you observe such a thing in my manners?” he asked, with a very amusing tension in his apparently casual voice.

“Well… yes, as a matter of fact,” I simply said, unsure if I really had to explain further.

“So? What did I say?” he insisted.

“If you really want to know… most of the time it was… okay… but you did address Marilena like an old friend, Cami like a servant, Niculaie like your Sire and…” I hesitated, unable to repress my laughter any longer.

“And what?” he asked, rather roughly.

“And Ivantie like an ex-lover,” I completed, trying to sound as serious as I could, which probably made things worse because my voice was shaking with giggles.

“Really? I guess his reaction was similar to yours?”

“Oh, in a way. Ivantie was not offended at all. On the contrary! I think he was flattered!”

“Because he is…” he asked, uncomfortably.

“What, homosexual? No, I would not say that. Though he did try same gender sex a couple of times, his preferences are most definitely on the female side! When you live such a long life like him, you eventually get curious and experiment. After a couple of centuries, most taboos are not taboo anymore, you see.”

“I did not know you were such… liberal people,” he said, choosing his words carefully.

“It’s not that we are liberal in our actions that much, do not get me wrong here. But liberal in our ideas and mentalities, most definitely. Especially in this clan, since Marilena is in charge.”

“What about you?” he boldly asked.

“Now, Professor Snape, you are asking too many questions again!” I exclaimed, laughing. “Be careful, I might turn them against you!”

“I would not ask you a question if I was not ready to answer it myself, Antanasia,” he said in a playful, yet careful tone.

He had pronounced my name like I often heard it being murmured in my ear, after a long, languorous, passionate love encounter… A part of me, the most mischievous, wanted to keep playing along what was surely an innocent conversation, but reason soon took over it. I had to be more indifferent than that. I got to my feet and walked to an armchair, where my poetry book had been left. I grabbed it in the intention to bring it back to our observation point. As I turned, I startled, gasping in surprise. I found myself practically nose to nose with Snape.

“Did I scare you?” he said, slightly amused.

“Yes! I did not realise that you were following me.”

“I will try to be more noisy next time,” he said, staying right where he was.

So did I. His hair and clothes were almost completely absorbed by the darkness in the room, which accentuated the paleness of his face. I could not really discern where his dark eyes were gazing and it troubled me, but I did not want to give him the impression that his sudden proximity would make me run away. We were so close that I could feel the warmth of his skin reach mine. I gently took his hand and felt the pulse of his blood become slightly more intense. I retrieved the razor blade from my pocket and, before he could see it, I made a small cut on the tip of his finger. He startled, but did not remove his hand. I did the same operation with one of my fingers and let a drop of our mixed blood fall on the book. I opened it and simply gave it to him, without looking at the page, and said:

“Here… poetry is a wonderful complement to such a magnificent starry night. If you will excuse me, I have some work to do. Good night!” I said, smiling warmly.

I swished past him and felt his arm caress the side of my body as I passed. I never asked him what poem our mixed blood had chosen. I guess I wanted to escape it, just like I had escaped him, that night, leaving the enchanted ceiling behind me. He never brought the subject again, between us, but each time I visited him, the book was in different places in the room. He did read it often. Or at least wanted me to believe so.

The 25th of August came and, along with it, the celebrations of the end of summer. It has been a traditional celebration night in Zaharia since the very first year Horatiu moved in the castle. Even before that, cainites have celebrated the end of summer with magnificence and, sometimes, with a bit of excess. I think that during a certain period of their history, humans got inspired by that celebration and made one of their own, called the Beltane fires. It soon got abandoned after the magical and Muggle worlds dissociated themselves.

Nevertheless, cainites have been continuing the tradition over centuries. Though, unlike humans, the main goal was not to promote fertility, the theme of interpersonal contact and warmth was certainly central. I do not remember any of our wars that did not stop for that very special night. Zaharia, since Horatiu’s reign, has always maintained the reputation to make splendid receptions, even more since Marilena, extravagant and festive, was at the head of the clan. Mara and her always spent weeks choosing their outfits. I must admit that Mara’s sure taste and intuition for the decorum part of the feast was always indispensable.

The August banquet, that year, conveniently took place during the wizard’s imprisonment, which fitted perfectly with our plan. Marilena made special efforts to make the party even larger and louder than usual, inviting all –and I mean all– the clan from Poland to Moldova. My workload tripled during the few nights before, as I was to provide the finest blood potions I could prepare, in large quantities. Cami and Catalina’s workloads became heavier too. Cami had to prepare the garden, which was not always cooperative, and Catalina was to provide musical entertainment along with all the other musicians in the clan, which required a lot of organization.

In a word, the whole castle was in effervescence and that joyfulness and excitement soon came knocking at the dungeon door. The number of nights between my visits increased, while the visits themselves shortened. Professor Snape did not seem to be affected by the fact he could not come to the reception; he told me that he was not very fond of big happenings, especially when it involved lots of superficial people… and dancing! That is so typical of men, in all species! However, I remember that I did tell him, in a moment of sympathy and honesty, probably because the exhilaration of the reception had got to me as well, that I greatly missed his presence in my lab and wished he could be there with me. And I meant it. And he even smiled.

When the first guests arrived, Vasile was still arguing with one of the ballroom doors’ characters about how good manners do mean that it is not appropriate to pick one’s nose, but the rest of us were ready to party. Valerica was one of the firsts, to my and Ivantie’s delight. She was superb in her silk dress, which reminded me of the soft green of her eyes. Ivantie was very attractive in his dark green frock coat and trousers, and his saffron shirt. As we were walking towards the ballroom, Valerica kept me a little behind.

“I see you have peered through the opening of the door!” she whispered happily. “You look gorgeous, Tasia!”

I was wearing one of my numerous black dresses, that night. It had a strapless corset that was embroidered with black roses. My skirt fell straight to my ankles, but a long slit, embroidered with the same roses on each side, showed most of my legs. What Valerica was referring to was most probably my choice of a fiery red scarf to complete my outfit. I had always refused to wear bright colours since Arnaud’s death.

Guests kept arriving for hours until midnight. Vasile and Iulian had prepared the ballroom and dining room to sit over three hundred guests and I even had to help them conjure a few dozens more. Despite the wizard’s warning about Voldemort’s shadow extending to our doorstep, nothing of that sort could be felt among us. Everybody was chatting merrily until, with a clap of my hands, all the crystal goblets magically filled with my finest blood potion.

I do not need to report all the details of the reception, as it was similar to the receptions we made each year. Marilena’s speech did involve a mention about Voldemort and a possible wizard war. She reiterated her joy about the clan’s unification and peace, which had lasted since 1941. She expressed her disappointment about the Order of the Phoenix’s questionable messenger and reassured the clan that no firm decision would be made and no formal help would be given before she was convinced about where the clan’s best interests would be served. The tone of that specific declaration made me shudder, but I applauded and cheered, like everybody else.

After the banquet, the long table vanished and was replaced by a hundred of smaller ones, similar to those we used when we were among ourselves. Catalina had done a great deal of thinking as she organized the musical part of the night, adjusting her choices to the comments she had gotten during the previous years. She began by a selection of more traditional dances and directed a whole orchestra herself. The elders greatly appreciated that attention, as it met their tastes better. A great number of them had not changed their habits to make it match the more modern forms of music and dance.

Ivantie invited me numerous times, so did Vasile, Iulian and even Niculaie. Kerecsen requested an argentine tango and asked me to dance with him, which I gladly accepted. Our bodies immediately recognized each other as we started gliding over the floor in total harmony with the music. He danced just like he made love: he led me with firmness but grace, making my body follow the moves of his warm hands as if they were magnetized with his skin. He made me end the dance with one of my legs wrapped over his thigh. His chin was pressed against my temple and his arm held me protectively in place. As his thumb gently stroke the exposed skin of my upper thigh, he murmured in my ear:

“Will we have the pleasure to continue this later, my dear?”

He took me by surprise and I almost gave in to the temptation. But for some reason, I thought it best to decline. Something told me that my night had to end elsewhere than in Kerecsen’s arms.

“Believe me, my friend, I would be delighted to accept your offer. But I am afraid that I have other engagements for the night. Some other time, perhaps?”

“Most certainly,” he said, as we broke our final dance posture and he delicately took my hand to his mouth, caressing my knuckles with his lips as he spoke. “I shall be waiting that moment with… great anticipation.”

I slowly ran my finger along his jawbone, his chin, his lips… they were wonderfully soft and warm and their touch, against the tip of my finger, brought back many ardent memories about what games these mischievous lips had played all over my skin. But I had not shared anybody’s coffin since I had met Arnaud and, though my body started to physically ache with desire, I did not feel ready to revive those memories with Kerecsen. Not yet.

I spent the rest of the night chatting with various old friends, Kerecsen included. Catalina kept the more modern music for the end, so she disappeared from the stage, along with the other musicians. They were replaced with recorded music. As usual when that change was made, most of the elders retired to the garden, while the younger cainites stayed in the ballroom to dance some more. I stayed a little bit, dancing with Cami and Catalina, and then joined the elders in the garden.

The night was splendid. The sky was clear and, though no shooting stars could be seen, the darkness above our heads was freckled with millions of sparkles. I had to walk along for a while, strolling along many little paths, to find Ivantie and Valerica. On my way, I passed a few bushes from which I could hear muffled moans or laughter. I turned a corner near the bushes of roses that had witnessed my intimacy with Cami. In our place, a couple was sitting on the bench and kissed passionately, grabbing each other’s clothes and hair in their hastening. A second later, the woman let out a groan and I heard the sound of fabric being ripped. I repressed a giggle.

“Really, Niculaie does not miss one occasion!”

I found Ivantie and Valerica shortly after. We spent some time conversing about my progress with the wizard. I had kept Valerica posted about the results of my efforts. She had been particularly interested in the “enchanted ceiling” visit, which confirmed her original hypothesis about the wizard having a specific, though still totally unclear, interest for me.

“Talking of which, my dearest, I think you should go take a look at what is happening in the dungeon. It might greatly interest you.”

“Do you feel anything wrong happening?” I asked, alarmingly.

“No… I would not say that. Do not worry; he does not have the slightest intention to escape for the moment. But I still think you should go take a look, Tasia,” she explained, a strange smile adorning her lips.

It occurred to me that she might have simply meant that she wanted to spend some time alone with Ivantie, so I did not insist. I hastily took leave, with their promise that we would meet some time before dawn.

What struck me first was Valeriu’s absence at the dungeon door. He had been assigned to the dungeon for that part of the evening and was soon to be replaced by Niculaie. I thought he had gotten tired of waiting for Niculaie, who was delayed for reasons that I could very well imagine, and had simply gone looking for him at the reception. I was very irritated by Valeriu’s lack of judgment, so I entered the room in a rush and had already walked a few meters past the doorstep when I saw them.

Cami was there, with Catalina. The latter was behind Professor Snape, who was sitting in an armchair. Cami was slowly undoing the buttons of his shirt, exposing his throat and the upper part of his chest. All three of them stared at me with mixed expressions on their faces. Snape seemed calm, in control. He looked at me right in the eye, as he often did, but my Occlumency barriers were raised so I heard nothing of what he was probably trying to tell me. Cami looked taken aback and confused, as if she had been caught in the act of doing something forbidden or shameful. She quickly removed her hands from the wizard’s shirt when she saw me. Catalina, on the contrary, was smiling widely and kept stroking the wizard\'s shoulders as she stared. I could have sworn that she was inviting me to join them.

At first, I thought he had managed to put them under the Imperius curse. I already had a hard time believing that they had left the reception to come to the dungeon. It was even harder to believe that they had started taking care of the wizard in that intimate manner on their own initiative. I quickly checked their mental state and, to my surprise, I could access their consciousness without any difficulty. Nothing came in my way. Feeling my probe, Catalina smiled even wider.

“Do not worry, he did not curse us,” she said.

“I am glad to hear it,” I answered a bit sharper than I wanted to. “Is the contrary also true?”

“Cami and Catalina have generously generously enabled Valeriu to join the party by offering to replace him on guard duty. Isn’t it charming?” he explained, in a sugary tone that irritated me even more.

“I guess so. Unless they intend to guard you far closer than you realize. Well, ladies?” I asked, suspiciously.

“Oh, do not worry about that, Antanasia. We have already fed tonight, thanks to you. He is in no danger of being bitten,” Cami answered, with a sweet and soothing voice.

“Well, not bitten that way, at least. I do think we have a couple of different kisses in reserve for him, though,” Catalina said, playfully, while she tickled his right earlobe.

The Professor shrugged his shoulders and quickly turned his head away from her hand. When she stepped back, reacting to his refusal, he took her hand in his and put it back on his shoulder. That, at least, reassured me a little about him not being under their control. Anyway, if Marilena herself had failed to control him, Cami and Catalina, even joining their powers, would not be better at the task. I was about to speak when I saw Cami’s glance directed towards me. I let her in.

“Antanasia, please let us do this. We have been thinking about it for over a week, and visited him a couple of times when you were too busy in your lab.”

“Charming example of team work!”

“Do not be angry… I told the committee many times that I thought he was depressed. He is, I am almost certain of it. Pleasuring him for one night does not disrupt the plan at all, it could even accelerate the results, if he softens after that. Most men do.”

“That is not an excuse!”

“That is not mistreating him either, if everybody is willing. And we both need this!”

“Then go upstairs! There are hundreds of cainites there, I am sure you two would find somebody interesting!”

“Those people will all be there next year, he will not! It has been ages since my last wizard. Antanasia, have we ever quarrelled before? I do not want us to start tonight. Join us if you are not reassured! You are more than welcome to!”

I sighed. She got me again, like each and every time she evoked our good relationship. I melted once more in front of her sweet and innocent smile. There was no reason serious enough for me to literally forbid them from spending some intimate moments with the wizard if they wanted to. The idea even occurred to me that Snape’s ever so resistant mental barriers might indeed soften, but only during the act itself, and probably not so much afterwards. With a smile, I went back to traditional forms of communication.

“Very well, then. It is I who should apologize for interrupting you. I simply wanted to make sure that everybody was ok, and I see that it is the case. Nevertheless, be aware, Professor Snape, that cainites are particularly fertile during the 25th of August celebrations,” I declared, before turning to Catalina and Cami. “I am sure that neither of you wishes to find yourselves with an unwanted pregnancy… or two, depending on the wizard’s enthusiasm. I do not need to remind you of what the consequences would be.... Take the proper measures, will you?”

“You can count on us,” said Catalina, while slowly sliding her hand inside the wizard’s shirt.

“I will bother you no longer. I will tell Niculaie to wait for your call before coming for his guard shift. Have a good time!” I exclaimed joyfully.

I locked the door behind me when I left. Niculaie’s two-way mirror had not been used very often, because prisoners were rather rare at Zaharia anyway, but it proved to be particularly useful on that special occasion. I went in the observation room as silently as I could, closing the door behind me. I conjured an armchair and sat comfortably in front of the mirror. It felt like sitting in one of those Muggle viewing rooms that are called “theatres”… or is it “cinemas”? I do not remember.

Cami had finished unbuttoning his shirt when I started my secret observation. From where I was, I could see them sideways, which allowed me to have a nice view of everybody’s moves. Cami opened the shirt wide, uncovering his chest completely, but did not make him take it off. I saw her run her nails slowly down his chest, kneeling between his legs. He watched her lazily, one of his hands on the armrest while the other stroked Catalina’s back, behind him. She was still caressing and massaging his shoulders and neck and gently swayed her hips under the wizard’s caresses.

One of Catalina’s hands slid under Snape’s chin and turned his head up, exposing his virile throat completely. I instantly became tense and even walked to the mirror, in fear that Catalina would Kiss him when she lowered herself on him, but her lips only met his mouth, to my relief. I even congratulated myself for being so farsighted as to stay behind and make sure that nobody’s security would be at risk. I think I even believed that flagrant lie to myself at that point in the night.

Cami started to unbutton his trousers, but he broke from Catalina’s embrace and took one of her tiny wrists in his hand. I saw his lips move, but no sound came to me, which made me realise that I had forgotten to remove the soundproof spell on the room. I quickly solved the matter with a snap of my fingers.

“… so I see no reason why we should hurry, my dear. The night is still very young… anyway, this is not what you first had in mind when you visited me last time, is it?” he said, with the most charming deepness in his voice.

“You are right, Severus, it is not what I had in mind.”

“Oh, I am afraid that Severus will not do…” he replied, in a disappointed tone. “Antanasia told me about your kind’s good manners and it seems that, according to these good manners, you should either address me as Professor or Sir, to show me some respect.”

“I am not used to use polite forms when I stick my tongue into someone else’s mouth,” retorted Catalina, playing with his right nipple.

His other hand grabbed her by the wrist as well. Either he had a very tight grip or his natural authority intimidated them, because neither of the girls moved away.

“Ladies, Ladies, Ladies…” he repeated, in a reprobating tone. “So far, I have agreed to your propositions, but have never stated mine. I think my position allows me to make at least a few basic requests before we formally start.”

“Such as?” asked a voice above his head.

“Such as being shown a minimum of respect, just as I will for you. That respect includes addressing me properly and includes taking our time to avoid rushing anything. It also includes a few other requests that will come eventually as we proceed to our mutual satisfaction,” he explained as if he were giving a lecture to particularly difficult students.

“And if we do not comply?” Catalina asked.

“I shall regret to declare that our time together has come to an end and will kindly ask you to leave.”

“Careful, Severus, we are two against one! We might be tempted to force you into it, which could be just as much fun!”

He got to his feet instantly and threateningly looked down on her. His low voice growled like thunder in the silent room.

“You be careful, my dear. Antanasia was here, barely a few minutes ago, and left under the impression that we were all agreeing to this intimacy. I can only imagine the extent of her disappointment should she learn that I have been in fact forced to please the two of you, not to mention the possibility that I might have the message delivered to Marilena personally! Niculaie told me pretty interesting details after one of your visits, which taught me a lot about how little respect you two receive from the others in the castle! I wonder how my statements could affect the modest reputation you still have!”

His tone softened from a growl to a purr as he continued, walking back to Cami.

“Nevertheless, Niculaie also told me a few things that might prove to be incredibly useful, such as your personal preference for a certain type of touch…”

Wrapping an arm around Cami’s waist, he slid his fingers through her dark blond tresses and gently pushed her head back, while he ran his tongue all the way up from the base of her throat to the tip of her chin. Cami gave out a little moan and clenched her fingers on both of his sleeves. I saw her chest rise in quick moves as she replied, in a shakier version of her usual sweet voice.

“I do not mind addressing you as you demand, Professor,” she said. “I do not want us to part on any misunderstanding, which would spoil what was becoming a very nice arrangement. Do you not agree, Catalina?”

“I guess so,” she moodily replied, while casually sitting in the armchair. “What could possibly please you to begin with?” she asked, swinging one leg over the armrest.

“I had something in mind, but given Cami’s spontaneous cooperation, you will have to wait a little longer and deserve my attentions a bit more than you already have. For now, watch and learn.”

He took Cami’s hand and walked her to the second armchair, which was on Catalina’s right. He did not ask her to sit, but simply placed her in front of it. He began by slowly massaging her throat, sliding his thumbs over the last drops of saliva that were still on her skin. Within minutes, she was totally relaxed and abandoned to his hands, which were working their way up and down her throat as expertly as a cainite would have done. Catalina did not miss a move of his fingers.

Cami closed her eyes and moaned softly as he gently nibbled all over her throat and chin. She stepped closer to him and started to rub herself against his hip, in slow lateral moves. One of his hands left her back and cupped her buttocks, pressing her even tighter against him. He started lifting her dress, little by little, murmuring something in her ear that I could not discern. I soon understood what it was, however, when I saw her giggle against his shoulder as he slid one hand under her dress and revealed her skin all the way up to her waist. She was not wearing anything under her outfit.

Snape’s caresses seemed to intensify, as he massaged her thighs and buttocks in a large and steady motion. Her hands travelled from his arms to his neck and hair as he finally left her throat, its skin flushed from his efforts, to grab her lips between his. With an experienced hand, he freed her shoulders and torso from her dress and pressed her eager flesh against his bare chest. Cami’s moans turned to soft groans between each of his kisses. She slid one of her legs between his, stimulating him as much as she stimulated herself.

Once more, he took her hand and motioned her to sit in the armchair.

“My dear Cami,” he softly said, “I have been called many things in my life, but I am not an ungrateful man, when gratefulness is indeed indicated. And I am in your debt.”

“I was under the impression that you are the one who has been doing most of the work, Sir.”

“Tonight, yes. But I remember a gentle, very gentle woman who came to me during my most painful times here and healed my injuries, with a delicateness that I was in no position to accept from her. For that, I am very grateful indeed,” he said, kneeling in front of her.

“Oh, really, it was nothing…” she said, her cheeks flushing with pleasure and shyness. “I wish I could have done more!”

“Which you are undoubtedly doing right now. But I still have to repay you for what you have done during these nights…” he added, spreading her knees apart and lifting the dress back around her waist. “This is for my broken ribs…”

He resumed his playful massage along her thighs, his other hand caressing her stomach as well. He worked all his way up, then playfully dwelled his thumbs up and down her groin, which made her sway her hips towards him, begging for more.

“This is for my broken nose,” he continued, his unctuous voice keeping me raptly attentive.

His thumbs travelled from her groin to her labia, which was already swollen with desire and ardent expectation. He stroked it with his thumbs for a while, stretching her patience to the full extent as his vertical moves gently massaged her sensitive clitoris as well, which started to get fully swollen and ooze inbetween his fingers. He spread her labia apart, in order to see the intensity of her excitement. I saw a satisfied grin on his lips when he fully revealed her swollen bud. Cami let out high-pitched and out of breath little moans as he gently blew on her clitoris, shaking his head from left to right, teasing her a little further. She was getting very wet at that point. From where I was, I could fully see her slit become all shiny with her exhilaration.

He ran one of his fingers down from her nub along her wetness. She arched her back, anticipating his fingers penetrating her and relieving a bit of her tension, but he simply put his finger into his mouth. She moaned her disapprobation.

“Shush, dear, did I not say that good manners include taking your time? You seem to be quite an impatient young lady… but your taste is most delicate, just as you are. So I guess…”

He bent forward, as Cami’s breathing accelerated.

“…this is for…”

His hands made their way back up against her inner thighs, in one long caress.

“…my broken jaw, which healed wonderfully well under your care, as you are about to witness.”

He swooped down on her eager flesh, which was most probably aching with anticipation. Cami let out a small cry of pleasure, abruptly bending her head forward and grabbing the wizard’s head between her hands. From where I was, I could not really see what he was doing to her, because his head blocked my view. But from Cami’s incoherent words and moans, I knew that he was greatly pleasuring her. In fact, her reaction was so sincere and brutal that I was even surprised to see her going that wild over the man’s mouth. Cami was not that reserved anymore.

“Oh yes, that’s it, suck it hard! Please, Sev… Professor, give me more!” she articulated, her legs gripping his sides tightly.

I saw one of his hands leave her leg and disappear in front of his face, which made Cami’s moans turn to screams and considerably shortened her vocabulary to two words: “yes” and “Professor”. In fact, all her lexicon seemed to suffer from the wizard’s talents, as she slowly passed from English to Romanian, then narrowed the possibilities to Flemish only, her native language.

Catalina, sitting next to them in the other armchair, was still watching every one of their moves. She had a better view than I did on what he was doing to Cami, and she seemed to be pleased by what she saw. Probably a little jealous too, because her face reflected more than yearning, when she slowly opened the front of her dress and started caressing her breasts. It also showed envy.

I, too, soon succumbed to the scene that was offered to me. Watching them without their knowledge had already given me a certain thrill right from the beginning. However, that thrill had soon turned to desire when I witnessed Cami’s unexpectedly strong reactions. Almost without noticing, I slid one hand through the slit of my dress and started to caress myself over my knickers. I almost considered entering Cami’s mind to fully feel the obvious pleasure he was giving her, but good manners stopped me in time.

A few minutes later, she threw her head back and let out a long, victorious scream as he made her reach the full extent of her pleasure. He gently put an end to her last moans by sliding his wet fingers inside of her mouth, which she sucked eagerly. He was about to reach her face and make her taste herself a bit more over his lips when he stopped and looked next to him. Catalina had slowly moved herself to the floor and was working to unbutton his trousers. He fully rose to his feet, looking down on Catalina who was still crouched on the floor.

“I do not remember having asked you to join us, Catalina. Did I not tell you to wait and watch?” he asked severely.

“Yes… Sir, but I felt a little bit lonely on my armchair,” she protested.

“Well, if you feel lonely, why do you not simply say so? I cannot give you what you want if you do not share your needs with me!” he reproached.

“Can I suck you, Sir?” she asked, teasingly.

“Oh, you will have to ask me better than that. Cami has earned a lot more of my esteem than you have right now. You have some catching up to do if you want to reach her level,” he replied, using the superior attitude that I had caricatured a couple of times.

“Can I suck you, Professor?” she repeated, in a more serious tone.

“Ah, that is better. But I am afraid that the request is still a little bit inelegant. I am sure you can find a more genteel request.”

“May I pleasure you with my mouth, Professor?” she asked.

“Yes, you may, my dear. In fact, I expected you to do so. Cami looks like she needs a little rest, do you not, Cami?” he said, turning to Cami who was still lying in the armchair, panting slightly with her eyes closed.

“Not at all, on the contrary,” she replied, snapping her eyes open when he pronounced her name.

Catalina eagerly opened the front of his trousers and slid them down, along with his underpants. I saw her grin and lick her lips with gluttony when his fully erected penis sprang out in front of her. She was about to greedily take all his length into her mouth when he grabbed her by the hair and stopped her move.

“Easy, easy, Catalina! I will not tell you twice! Take your time; we have plenty of it! I saw you do wonders with your cello; I know you are capable of quite a high level of sophistication and elegance. Please treat me the same way, will you?”

“I will do my best, Sir.”

He released his grip and Catalina sat more comfortably on her armchair and made him step forward between her legs. She began by slowly stroking his legs, while pressing her cheek tenderly against his hard flesh. I knew how she felt, for the wonderfully warm rushing of blood in a hard member is something that never fails to turn me on. The mere sight of it made me let out my first moan that night, as the movement of my fingers became more intense against my knickers.

Catalina’s hands gently travelled against his skin from his thighs to his hips, then against his stomach. Her face did not move; she was making her way through his needs by feeling the pulse of his blood against her skin. She kept her eyes closed most of the time, opening them only for a second in a commanding glance towards Cami. The latter instantly understood her request and walked behind the wizard. She helped him remove his shirt first, then kneeled next to him and made him lean against her to remove his trousers, boots and socks.

I took some time to observe him. His skin, obviously, was as pale as his face and hands. According to what I expected, his body was not particularly hairy, but the darkness of his hair made a striking contrast with the paleness of his skin. I guessed from the way Catalina buried the tip of her fingers in the loose curls of his pubic hair that it was as smooth as the locks I had touched each time I shaved him. He was definitely not sturdy, as no muscles on his body were salient, but they did look firm and his shoulders were large, adding to his naturally fine presence. He did seem vigorous and quite capable of strength, agility and flexibility.

Cami stayed behind him, stroking and massaging his back, shoulders and chest as Catalina took care of the lower front. Catalina continued her slow progress on his body for long minutes, still only pressing her cheek against his length, until he started to slowly rock back and forth under her caresses. She finally turned her head and put feathery kisses all over his hardness, working her way up from the base of his shaft to the tip of his glans, which was covered with a shiny drop of clear precum. She did not lick it, but simply pressed her lips against it and made little circles, spreading it all over his glans, before she kissed her way down again.

I saw Cami circle her arms around his waist and, rising to her full height, she started kissing his ear. A faint smile curled at the corner of his lips and he turned to her, kissing her fervently. Catalina soon brought his attention back to her when she gave more intense kisses, opening her lips slightly so his virile member would stick and throb against her lips each time she ended a kiss. Cami’s reply was instantaneous; she raised her hands and gently scratched his chest with the tip of her fingernails, while she pressed her breasts against his bare back.

He smiled with contempt and turned to Cami, grabbing her bottom with one of his hands. He kissed her again for a while, and murmured something into her ear. She nodded, then broke her embrace and stepped back. She removed her dress and put it on the armchair, along with his clothes. She quickly went back to him, pushing her nakedness against the back of his body.

Catalina chose that precise moment to wrap her lips tightly around the tip of his penis and slowly but firmly push it into her mouth, all the way down. Both of them let out a long groan, but he went completely quiet and looked down at her, frowning, when she lightly ran her teeth against his delicate skin on the way out.

“You are not worried about those teeth, are you, Professor?” she asked, once she had released him from her mouth.

“If I were, my dear, I would not let you do what you are doing right now,” he retorted, with a slight touch of amusement in his voice.

“Good! Because I do intend to use those teeth to pleasure you…” she added, before taking him back into the warmth and wetness of her mouth.

She started pumping him very slowly, working his excitement very gradually, in order to make him last as long as possible. I could only imagine what his virility felt like, hard and hot, throbbing against her lips. My fingers sneaked in my knickers and quickly found my swollen clit, which was aching for closer attention. I began to realise that I was sort of envious myself. I almost regretted that I did not take Cami’s offer to join them when a hand shot out of the dark in front of me and clasped over my mouth.

~*~

AUTHOR’S NOTE
I hope you are enjoying the story so far! I would really appreciate some reviews. It does not take much of your time and it tells me if you like where the story is going or not! It’s in your best interest, in a way! Writing 25-30 pages every week represents a lot of work; your comments are a valuable reward! :o)

FOOTNOTE
The reference to the Beltane fires is based on “The Ladies of the lake” by Marion Zimmer Bradley.