Ebony Eyes

The first time I saw him I mean “REALLY saw him” he was lounging behind a floating ancient tome. His legs stretched before him crossed at the ankles.

The air was tense with confidence and scented with the exquisite smell of hot-blooded, volatile and sensual man. Six foot plus wrapped in black on black.

Expensive and impressive from hand crafted shoes to the exquisite silver cape clip at his throat, the sleeves longer than average with elegant ivory hands partly eclipsed.

Perfect porcelain skin and thin yet seductive lips made me almost expect a flourishing signature in the corner, “Man by Goth”. A typical Hollywood “B grade” bat.

He looked for the entire world like a vampire but his aura read ‘Sex God’ in capitals.

Obsidian bedroom eyes observed me with intent.

His voice of crushed velvet rolled my senses and washed my soul in desire stirring my inner incubus.

A lackadaisical attitude oft times made me tempt fate. Life or something like it was mundane in the extreme or had been I had a feeling it was looking up.

I made my way outside, cutting a swathe through the new influx with just a well-timed glare, to where the moon and the cool air could caress my soul.

The crisp air that kissed my face felt divine after the humidity and noise of the crowded Great Hall the first day back for the pupils and the first day of hell for the teachers.

I felt his stare upon me so unlike a lover’s caress weighing me up casting dispersions, judging my worth, boring into me with the ferocity of those who despised my kind.

I spent few moments listening to the distant babble of voices floating out from the hall. The chirp of crickets the howl of a distant wolf, the hiss of silk and linen a soft footfall as he closed the distance between us.

“Inside” the voice of poisoned honey delivered its personal message so close to me the warmth of his breathe caressed my cheek “Now” barely concealed hatred spicing his words.

He smelt of cinnamon and musk, rosemary and the wine they had served with dinner. I had tasted the wine but I knew that upon his lips the flavour would be sweeter.

I could become intoxicated on his voice alone; I wondered if he could say ‘inside' to my inner incubus, and stifled a giggle at the thought.

He roughly grasped my shoulders and turned me to face him. Long tapered fingers dug into my flesh even through the layers of robeing.

Nothing short of total stupidity, Voldemort or my own desire for demise could kill me.

I brazenly met his dark gaze. Those obsidian eyes stared blatantly reassessing just what I was, what I had become and his tally on how dangerous I could be. Something didn’t add up for him that was obvious.

He closed the remaining distance between us in one smooth glide. The wine tainted his lips but I was intoxicated by his taste. He licked begging entry and my willing tongue met his in an exotic dance.

Body melded against body, hard and soft, pliant and strong each savouring the moment and our essence.

Clasp against each other as if life depended on it we moved in unison, his interest obvious. Breathing was secondary to our desperate administrations.

He groaned and growled a sound so disturbingly erotic as to incite my incubus. Arms wrapped around each other our sensibility lost to the four winds, the closest you could get to sex fully dressed.

Suddenly he flinched and pulled away. “Go” he hissed “Now” and in a blur the shadows swallowed him.

I could hear the pained screams of my frustrated Incubus cursing my thrice-damned soul. I felt strangley naked without his arms around me.

Several weeks would pass before fate found us alone together again. I, sweet and innocent (not), and a potent enigmatic whirlwind of untapped sensuality and full fledged magical power clad solely in black and wrapped in utter distain.

The Principals office was a casually cluttered mess that assailed every one of the senses. It reeked of dust, the decay of ancient books and throughout it all the heady scent of too many people in too small a space.

Haphazard colours thrown together by some wanna be interior decorator only pleasing to the eye from a vast distance, preferably another continent, or absolute minimum another room.

Books and portraits that muttered snored or argued vied for available wall and shelf space. The headmaster droned on and on, no doubt enjoying the sound of his own voice. His blue eyes twinkled annoyingly over his spectacles.

I sensed that my enigmatic man **When had I come to think of him as mine?** enjoyed this almost as much as I.

More than once our eyes met whilst we unwittingly mimicked each other’s motions trying to massage away the migraine pain that rose unbidden. **Had we shared more than a kiss in that fleeting moment?**

Once dismissed the staff scuttled off intent on their respective missions, whilst all I desired was solitude.

Being a holiday weekend students were blissfully absent so I had no need to keep up a facade of any kind and heaven help anyone who came between me and a headache potion.

Thus it was that some two hours later I found myself at the doors to his private apartments having exhausted my feeble potion collection and finding nothing remotely useful in his teaching laboratory.

When he failed to respond to my knocking I conjured a suitable key and admitted myself to his rooms. Being heavily warded I no doubt came as a shock.

Sitting before the fireplace apparently reading he was startled to find me drifting through his privacy.
“How…” he began “Potion” as eloquent as ever I choked out what I hoped would tell him enough.

I waved my hand in the direction of a glass fronted cabinet all the while stumbling towards a suitable receptacle for my battered nerves failing elegance and bruised ego.

Feeling as if I had gone 10 rounds with a hippogriff I sunk, nay sprawled on a lounge before the open fire.

Eyes closed against the world in general I did not feel him approach and knew nothing until a tumbler was forced against my lips, I drank without reservation if he wished to kill me he had had many chances.

My logic was out to lunch my head was currently employed as a clanger in a tower bell, frankly, right now, well, I didn’t care. It could only come as a blessing.

When the world settled and my senses returned to their former countenance I peered reluctantly from under my lashes and found for just a fleeting moment concern on his handsome porcelain face.

“Thank You” I whispered trying to fill the few words with as much appreciation as possible. I tried to reassemble my shattered facade and noticed the look of distain that rushed to cloak his face.

An attempt to stand, intent on escape only humiliated myself further when I proceeded to crumble, thankfully caught by those wonderful arms whose embrace I craved so dearly.

“Please” I begged, not something I practice on a regular timeframe, but he flew into professional mode.

Hands I imagined to be callused from many hours of potion prep were warm and gentle upon my skin his arms cradled me close to his body the one I wanted to map out with mine, bereft of clothes naturally.

Smoothly and effortlessly he carried me, to where I didn’t care. Somewhere deep inside I was shocked to find that I whimpered. With my head against his shoulder I inhaled him his wonderful essence, and didn’t want this moment to end.

For one terrifying moment I was left alone, my vision blurred by tears, stranded on a huge bed his lingering scent my only consolation.

“How long?” he stretched out beside me ankles crossed elegantly and leaning up against the headboard. **His bed** I struggled to sit up.

“How long?” he repeated with a gentleness that threw me I didn’t expect kindness, not from anyone and most certainly not from him, regardless of how much I hungered for it.

I hiccupped gently in my distress trying to avoid his gaze behind a convenient curtain of my hair.

“How long?” He gently cupped my chin and turned my face to him “Harry, How long have you shared my pain?”. Realisation hit as a SledgeHammer.

“Six Years” I whispered I mentally pulled him into me. Wordlessly I revealed everything. My damned soul opened its floodgates.

Love is just another way to bleed. I was falling. Hell, I had already fallen.

He allowed me to gently remove his garments. I was dismayed to see the severity of his injuries. The potions were still active but even so angry welts crisscrossed his back and sliced across his abdomen many older scars travelled similar paths.

Magically and promptly healed no scars would present themselves only great delay in administrations would have produced this cruel collage.

Absently I noticed he had a fine body. I murmured a spell and listed his injuries a broken rib, shattered wrist, a green break in his leg, liver damage bruised kidney the internal list was a horrifying as the external, yet he lived. Praise be to Merlin.

I mentally included my broken heart amongst his injuries.

Throughout the evening we shared memories of the previous 6 years. Together filing in the gaps and reached the same conclusion. Dumbledore was definately a closet Slytherin.

All the while I watched him spelling and healing and soothing, rubbing, tracing and soaking his abused flesh. My Incubus found the sight erotic, I was enclind to agree.

He conjured soft cotton nightshirts one each and bade me stay.

With the height I had gained over the years we spooned together nicely. I reverently brushed his hair away and kissed the smoothness of his neck where it flowed to his shoulder. His hands clasped my arms to his chest.

I wondered at the fool who would allow him to venture into such perils regardless of how righteous one chose to colour them.

Dawn was sneaking towards the horizon when I awoke and found that sometime in the night he had turned to embrace me. His heart beat a soothing rhythm to my ears.

At sometime he had shucked off the nightshirt, his naked body warm and inviting. I barely resisted the temptation to throw back the eider and drink fully of his form. The spiced scent of salves still perfumed his skin.

The lightly muscular chest and soft dusting of black silken hairs teased me so that my fingertips slowly traced their wake. My tears ran anew with relief, I did nothing to staunch their flow.

Reverently I kissed his chest. A stifled giggle made me look up, directly into the ebony orbs that had me enthralled.

So much in those eyes and so many tomes exchanged in his subsequent kiss. His interest hard against my stomach my incubus went into overdrive. The morning vanished in a hush of satin sheets.

The sounds brought forth from the depths of his soul were music to my ears.

My incubus purred with pleasure I shared his bliss.