Linuxia

Okay! Chapter 8 is up! I decided to do a little time warp thing. (Flame if you must) This will all make sense later, promise. The time warp scene has a het sex scene, (So you can't say I didn't warn you) and is indicated by a string of asterisks at the beginning and end. Then it goes back to Sammy in her dad's office, drinking brandy.

WRITERLADY1031: Thank you, I'm so glad you are enjoying my work! My muse abandoned me over the weekend! Don't you HATE that?

ROYAL MIDNIGHT: I am flattered and honored that you think I'm doing well. I've read some bad 'lost realtive' stories, and I can't thank you enough for saying you like it. I was really afraid that I was screwing up huge. All I can say is, and this goes to ALL MY REVIEWERS!

THANK YOU.

ON WITH THE SHOW!

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Eve stroked Salazar’s cheek lovingly, adoring the earthy lines that had started to cross his face. “You’re so wonderful, my Lord.” The older man breathed heavily, smelling the sandalwood she always wore. Godric enjoyed spoiling his sister.
“My lady, is there a good reason we have met here?” He looked around at the stables. There was a pile of new-dried hay nearby, and the moon shed its light on the gleaming grass, making it seem golden. He seemed uncomfortable with human contact, something Eve was willing to help with.
“Yes. My brother is an ass.” She leaned into him, pressing her ample bust into his velvet-clad chest. “And I think I’m in love with you.” With that, she pressed her lips into his.

She soon felt hands undoing the laces on her dress, undressing her expertly. So he HAD done this before. She trembled as he stripped her quickly to her night shift, but she knew what it was she wanted. He pulled away momentarily, panting. She took this opportunity to undo the robes he wore, the silver toggles giving way to her fingers, nimble from hours of untangling spinning. He was not at all unattractive, she noticed as her hands traced the muscles of his lean body. His chest was shapely, falling like water into a padded waist. Her explorations were impeded by the breechcloth he wore. She smiled shyly as she traced the edge of this, a blush building in her cheeks. She yipped quietly as she found herself lifted by surprisingly strong arms to the haystack near the loft. The older man smiled, improving his looks. “That is the purpose of hay.” He chuck
“
“To feed the animals, my Lord?” She smiled back.
“Mm. No. Ten lashes, sweet lass. To roll around in.” He devoured her sweet mouth, tasting an innocence that was not too long for this world.

Eve blushed as hody ody was revealed to his, and further blushed as she untied the breechcloth he wore. She had seen the asses in the barn mate, and had expected that humans would be comparatively less endowed. She was wrong, it seemed. “Something wrong, Evie?” Salazar was so tender with her.
“It’s . . . very large.” Eve felt like a child for the first time since she’d first met Salazar, all those years ago. He was ten years her senior, but it was the most important ten years of one’s life. The border between beauty and decrepitude. He was almost thirty, and she was nineteen. She had first seen him as a young man of fifteen, and had been struck by his wild hair and wilder ways. The years had mellowed him somewhat, all but his hair.
“It will fit, sweet one.” He kissed her forehead.
“Mum always told me that my husband would . . . would. . . still have his clothes on.” She could not tear her eyes from the snake-like length.
“Many men enjoy the quick route, but I prefer to see, as well as feel.” With this last, he took her hand in his. “Would you like to feel as well, my sweet one?” There was a nod in response, and Salazar watched as Eve’s eyes widened as he pushed her hand down his body to his arousal.

“So warm.” She gasped, stroking him lightly, with the barest tips of her milky fingers. Salazar once again guided her hand, wrapping it around his swollen manhood. She stared, wondering what she should do. Salazar guided her hand, moving it slowly up and down the shaft of flesh, which reddened in her grasp. He grunted softly, and she stopped. “Are you all right?”
“Fine.” He smiled, and shook his hair back. He pulled her head down to meet his, and felt her respond to the touch. He snuck his other hand down, and explored her. She whimpered as he slipped a finger in. She was a virgin, he could feel the tight ring of her hymen slip around his finger. There was no way he would cause her such pain as to take her virtue as she expected. He let a second finger follow, and, when she was moansoftsoftly but steadily, quickly scissored them. She jumped in surprise as she felt her hymen snap. It hurt, and as Salazar pulled his fingers out of her, she saw blood.
“My courses?” She looked perplexed.
“Nay, my lady. Your virtue.” He pushed her gently back onto the hay, slipping part of his length into her wet heat. “I would not want to have you scarred by a lout who knew not whe wae was doing, taking the pleasure from this act.” She shivered as he pulled back, and kissed her.

There was something sght ght about the way Salazar violated her over and over. She wrapped her legs around his waist, trying to get more of the amazing feeling building in her. She felt only slightly guilty. Salazar unbound his hair and hers, allowing the flame to touch the shadow. Suddenly, he brought her legs apart, bringing them closer to her chest. The deeper penetration of her secrlacelace made her quiver as she moaned, and she felt a small burning building in her chest. Salazar smiled, and hissed something. Not English. She narrowed her eyebrows. It sounded like a soft snake’s hiss. He leaned down, still preforming in his coital duty. His hedonistically pleasurable duty. “You are perfect. Delectable. The finest wine of a woman.” He rolled so that Eve was astride him. She examined his eyes, surprised that he had stopped so suddenly, but he placed his hands on her hips, and brought her up, then let her drop as he thrust up into her. She forgot that it was nighttime, and screamed in her lust for him, throwing her head back. Never had she known that such a feeling could be, that a man and a woman could please each other . . . so completely. She felt his thrust into her, and ground her hips into his, then lifted her hips as he’d done, angling her hips as she lowered herself. She felt a small rush to the small of her back, and felt the burning inside her grow. Salazar moaned anomalistically, pulling himself up to even with her. The kiss that ensued was enough for them both, but still, they could not find relief. The final pleasure was denied them for a few moments longer, their pace building until all discretion was thrown aside like wash-water on a cold morning, their final cries more animal than human, the final bliss of physical union shared by both the blade and the chalice, the man and the woman.

Eve lay panting in Salazar’s arms. He was still inside her, feeling her throbbing around his softening member. Her soft green eyes sparkled as she toyed with his hair. “I love you, Eve.” He kissed her forehead. She smiled, and his black eyes looked like velvet and diamonds, as he returned the gesture.
“I love you, too.” She breathed in his scent, and fell into a deep sleep, listening to the soft thrum of his heartbeat.

She woke the next morning dressed in her shift and in her bed. On the bed was a note, addressed only to ‘Evie.’ She looked to the door, and opened it.

My dearest,
I had to leave you thus, though it greatly pains me. I will return within the year.

Within the year? What did that mean?

I was called away on urgent business. Forgive me. I shall keep in touch as I can. The owl can only fly so fast, my love. I will see you again, I promise.
Salazar Slytherin.

Summer turned to fall, and Eve’s courses did nome ome upon her. Only her closest servant, Dobby, knew, though winter would bring to light the proof of her night in the barn. She sat speaking with the nervous little creature, and shook violently as she thought of what Godric might do. “Poor Mistress.” He patted her hand.
“Dobby, what will he say? What will he do?!” She stood, feeling the new life in her. She paced over to the window, looking out over the wood near the castle. “He is away hunting. His blood will be roused. should I tell him, or leave winter to tell my secret?”
“Mistress, I know not.”
“He would be enraged enough that I taught you proper speak.” She wrung her hands. “I shall tell him, but I cannot tell him the sire of this child. Their relationship is stressed enough.”
“Yes, Mistress.” Dobby looked at her. She was quite distraught.
“Dobby, you must promise me something. Swear that one day, one of your children will bear your name.” This was unheard of in house-elf cosmology.
wearwear it, Mistress.” She nodded, and went to the door of her chambers.
“Oh, and the letter there on the table?”
“Yes, Mistress?”
“Hide it.” She swept out of the room imperiously.

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Sammy sipped her brandy for the third time, a long and slow draw. The alcohol’s bitter taste cleared her thoughts. Her father was just as much a victim of circumstance as she was, though he had made the choice to be a victim. She had made the choice to be her own person, and it was time for her to stop being a victim when it suited her. She could not, by her own character, be the mewling Linuxia ever again. Was Samara so different, in her demure of most things sensual, for fear of pain with pleasure? There never was pleasure without some small pain. Just as there was no light without darkness, no male without female, no female without male. It was all a balance. Seamus should have recognized that, but he didn’t. The shamrock he wore was a reminder of the Mother’s forms, yet he forgforgotten the Mother. Another balance, though tremulous. “Father?” she said at length.
“Yes, Sweet one?”
“I think I just realized what it is I must do.” She sipped the brandy.
“Yes, Darling?”
“I have found Samara, the woman ruled by God. Now, I must find Manuela.” Snape looked at his daughter inquisitively. “I must find the woman in whom God is wit.” S.” She paused. “But I don’t know if I will find Him.” Snape smiled as his daughter said this, sensing where she was going. “I think . . . I will find Her.”

Harry Potter sat at on his bed, scribbling an essay on Sunflower roots. He could kill Snape sometimes. There was a soft knock on the door, and he didn’t look up. “Come in.” There was a series of soft footfalls behind him, then a weight settled on his bed. “Sea, I really don’t want to-” He looked up, expecting that his mate had come to brag again. It wasn’t Sea who met his gaze. It was Sammy. “How did you our our password?”
“Hello to you too, Harry.” She smiled. Harry’s heart jumped. “Sea gave it to me.”
“Oh. How is he?”He scribbled something about Healing Potions.
“Mm. Angry at me.” She looked at his essay. “Antidotes to Runespoor Venom.” Harry looked it up in his textbook. So it was used in that way, as well.
“Thanks.” He put his quill down. “Is there a good reason you’re here, then?”
“To apologize. For not knowing myself, and for denying my knowledge of you.” Harry looked up at her. She was smiling softly. “We knew those dreams meant more to both of us than what it seemed, Harry.” Harry shivered as she felt her hand brush his cheek. “And I am sorry about what happened with you and Weasley.” Harry stifled an emasculating sob. “I’m even more sorry for her, though.” Harry looked nonplused. Sammy smiled, then her face fell. “I wouldn’tt tot to marry someone who had raped a schoolmate of mine.” Harry’s eyes widened, the shock in the emeralds blatantly obvious.
“Who?” Harry whispered. He had gotten over it with Ginny, but felt he still owed Malfoy a good turn. This could very well be the cut Malfoy had always needed. Harry wasn’t going to blackmail him, he’d just tell Ginny. Sammy could almost see the horns growing out of Harry’s head as he pondered this new course of action.
“Harry, what are you thinking?” Harry blinked hard. She and Dumbledore both had the talent to read other people’s minds, he swore.
“Just how delicious it would be to tell Ginny.”
“Harry. Don’t dabble in things you don’t understand.” Harry looked at her. She had a tear on her cheek. “I think it’s over between Seamus and I. He was really mad at me.”
“Everyone has fights.” Harry patted her shoulder. “He’ll get over it.”
“Harry, listen!” She snapped. “I told him up front what had happened before, and he sae une understood. Then he pulls what he did . . . saying how I always teased him, leaving right before it got any good . . . he was ready for something I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready for.” She sniffled. “And this whole thing with Slytherin . . .”
“Everyone in that House is a jerk, anyway.” Harry snickered.
“HARRY! My friends are all in Slytherin. Blaize and Ronan . . . when they talked to me . . . were my best buddies.” She glared at him, breathing. “I meant Salazar Slytherin. The founder of that House.” Harry realized at last what Sammy was saying.
“Malfoy raped YOU, didn’t he?” He watched as Sammy’s whole wall of peace and tranquility shattered.

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I love a good cliff-hanger!
R&R!