Rom To My Private Dungeon

***

Chapter 7

Maracuja drifted out of the dungeons towards what she hoped was her room. She needed to get ready, and felt inexplicably eager to look especially nice. She could still taste the purple fumes from the cauldron lingering in her nose and throat. It had put her in a dreamy state. Even though it had been a long day, she did not feel the least bit tired. On the contrary, she felt more stimulated than she had in ages. Coming to Hogwarts, meeting the staff, it was all so exciting. She\'d been dreaming of coming here for some time. But her life just never afforded her the opportunity before now. Rather, she chastised herself for hesitating to take the opportunity.

Merlin knows she\'d spent enough time thinking about it. Two years she\'d investigated Professor Snape. It ted ted with a journal article on the Wolfsbane potion. She read up on his research. Learned of his reputation-both professionally and personally. She\'d even managed to find a few pictures of him-one looking serious in a scholarly journal; a second of him scowling in a group photo in Karkaroff\'s office (shoved between two shelved books, which she thought was quite odd); and the third was a staff photo in \"Hogwarts: A History\" which she thought was quite flattering. He seemed a queer little man-too stylish to be a researcher, but definitely not a sun-drenched sportsman type either. In many ways she thought he resembled the pale, dark, intensity of some of her Romanian relatives. Still, there was something very properly British about him. She found him handsome in an unconventional way-the dark brooding eyes, wiry black-clad body, fine delicate fingers, prominent aquiline nose-ah, that nose was to die for! But it was his research that held her initial and deepest fascination. And it was a dream one night after a meal with her grandmother that fuelled her decision to really \"go for it\"-to temporarily drop her career and travel so many miles from home.

\"There will still be plenty of sick people for you to attend to when you return.\" her grandmother insisted. Maracuja loved using her formal magical training to be a healer. Her work took her amongst the scattered Roms throughout the rural parts of hountountry. It was only because she was a Rom herself that they dared trust the use of formal magical healing. But theere ere times when she wanted some undefined more. To produce something-a cure? A better way of treating certain illnesses? Perhaps it was just a chance to explore another country, feed the nomadic lifestyle in her blood. A chance to find kindred spirits? Or love? She wasn\'t sure, but guessed it was probably a combination of things.

She\'d had a long chat with her grandmother over dinner that fateful night, confiding in her these hopes and dreams. Maracuja\'s grandmother was a profoundly powerful witch. She knew the old magic of the Roms better than anyone else in their community. Many people came to her for advice. So, it was not only familial affection that inspired this meeting.

\"You will make the right decision, and this way will guide you.\" she instructed. \"Go home tonight. Cut an apple crosswise and it will reveal a five-pointed star. Sit in front of a mirror in candlelight. Eat the apple while thinking about what it is you truly seek. Then, take marigold flowers, a sprig of marjoram, thyme, and a little wormwood; dry them before a fire, rub them into powder; then simmer it over a slow fire, adding a small quantity of virgin honey and vinegar. Anoint yourself with this when you go to bed, saying three times: \'that is to be.\' You will fall into a deep sleep and a dream will come to you. It will reveal your path-what it is you truly seek, where you will find it, and who will help you.\"

That night she followed her grandmother\'s instructions and did indeed have a dream. In it, she stood before a cauldron in a field at the full moon. Silver and green fumes rose in swirls into the air. To the left was a forest. To her right was a lake. A tall thin man in billowing black robes approached her from the distance, cast in shadow. Moonlight shone on his black hair. She did not see his face, but she felt his presence warmly. When he came closer, he glided around behind her as she waved her wand over the cauldron. The fumes grew thicker and a snake coiled up from the fumes, then dissipated into thin air. The man now stood behind her and pulled her towards him, scooping her waist with one arm and stroking her hair aside with the other. A deep velvety voice whispered in her ear \"That one is my favourite.\" She smiled and leaned into him, aroused, and found he greeted her arousal in kind.

They swayed to and fro, relishing the embrace. His erection grew more insistent against her as their bodies\' rhythmic motion hypnotised and united them. She closed her eyes and rolled her head to one side as his mouth softly explored the side of her neck, leaving a wet trail that gave her chills. Maracuja\'s nipples hardened from the chill and the powerful arousal he inspired. The warmth between her legs grew strong, urgent, hot. His hands came to life, stroking her arms, caressing her breasts, roving down her torso. He repeatedly whispered her name softly in her ear. A muffled gasp of pleasure escaped her lips as his hands found her hips and gently guided her to turn around. Her body complied willingly. She licked her lips and raised her chin in anticipation of a kiss. But the kiss did not come. \"Open your eyes.\" the voice whispered. \"I want you to see.\" When she did, she saw eyes, as black as hers, staring deeply into her own. She let out a gasp of recognition. It was as though the staff photo of Professor Snape had come to life. He beckoned her to Hogwarts, to his labs, and to his private dungeon quarters.

She did not tell anyone of this dream. It told her all she needed to know. Her mind made up, she made her arrangements, made her excuses, and made her way to Hogwarts.

***

So now here she was, drifting on a cloud of purple fumes, her feet barely touching the stone steps. It was only when she looked up and realised she was completely lost that the haze began to lift. \"I must remember to insist on that tour\" she thought to herself. Slightly out of breath, she stopped and had a look around.

\"You are in the Astronomy Tower, dear.\" A tremulous, disembodied voice rang out.

\"Why, thank you.\" Maracuja replied to the air. She felt a sudden sensation as though enduring a cold shower.

\"I am a resident ghost of Hogwarts. They call me the Grey Lady.\" The two smiled at each other. \"Where are you seeking to go?\" she offered. \"I would be happy to guide you there. Peeves is floating about here somewhere. You don\'t want to get directions from him.\"

Maracuja\'s head was now very clear after that thorough chilling. She could see at a glance how far she had walked, and wondered to herself what in that potion was so potent as to produce such an overpowering fog in her brain with only a breath of fumes.

\"I need to find my quarters. I am staying in the rooms normally reserved for the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor.\"

The Grey Lady showed her the way back down and drifted off. Maracuja entered her room and sat on her bed and meditated a moment. \"Perhaps a nap would be a good idea after all.\"

When she woke a few hours later, darkness had fallen outside. Her stomach rumbled slightly, but she ignored it, knowing there would be ample food at the party. Anxious to join the festivities, she bathed and dressed quickly, attended to her hair and make-up, and took one last glance in the mirror.

\"Beautiful.\" The mirror spoke. Maracuja jumpmomemomentarily startled. Talking mirrors were an uncommon treat to her. She had another look at herself. \"What do you think of this outfit?\" she asked.

\"Elegant and, dare I say, sexy. It shows off your curves without being vulgar. And black is unquestionably your colour.\"

Maracuja smiled. \"And how do you find my hair and make-up?\"

\"You are a natural beauty, my dear. Your efforts serve to further accentuate your gifts.\"

Feeling satisfied with this answer, she left the bathroom and walked towards her chamber door. \"I don\'t know where to go!\" she laughed to herself. As if by magic, there came a responsive rap at her door. \"Perhaps it is that helpful little house elf again,\" she thought, \"or I suppose it could be the Grey Lady. This castle certainly seems in no short supply of helpful beings.\"

But when she opened the door and peered down, it was not a smiling house elf that greeted her gaze. Instead there stood a pair of freshly polished black boots. A smile crept upon her face. Looking up she found herself nearly nose to nose with Professor Snape. He smelled good, and looked amazing. She stepped back and took a moment to regard this vision in black. He was no longer wearing his everyday robes (elegant as they were). Instead, he was clad in the elaborate hand-tailored outfit from his staff photo-the one he wore in her dream: Fitted black pants that hugged his legs, with buttons at the slightly flared ankles. An elegant frock coat cinched at the waist, buttoned to the neck, with just a hint of crisp white linen peeking out the collar and cuffs. Long, full robes which did not obscure the fine figure he cut.

\"I am errant in my duties, my lady.\" He offered. \"I believe you will need an escort to find your way to the soiree. May I?\" Snape gave an uncharacteristically roguish grin and held out his arm. Marajuca looped her arm in his. A breezy wave of her wand sealed the door behind her.

§