A/N # 1 – Well not 2 of 2, looks like 2 of more than 2 parts. Possibly 5 parts? Not so fluffy any more. My noble attempt at writing a short, fluffy piece was sabotaged by a certain character. (Glares at Albus)
A/N # 2 - AD/ED, AD/GG and AD/MOC? Maybe?
A/N # 3 – the sated sigh is dedicated to my beta, MM. You'll know why. (And it's not that reason you dirty little minded souls. :D )
Dumbledore wanted a quick game of ten-pin bowling? Malcolm rummaged through his brain, thinking of every risqué word, every double entendre, each delicate euphemism and every single example of sexual wordplay he knew to no avail.
Ten-pin bowling? Is that a roundabout way of informing me he'd like to have sex now? His body language isn't saying that, but… he's bloody hard to read.
"It's a Muggle game," Albus quickly explained.
"Really, I'm not familiar with it," slowly admitted Malcolm. "Would you care to explain the rules to me?"
For the first time that afternoon, Malcolm witnessed Albus' face light up. No longer did the younger mage appear world-weary and melancholy. No, now Albus Dumbledore appeared enthused, and the passion easily erased several decades' worth of care from his face. His blue eyes even twinkled merrily.
It was a damn shame that Albus was more stirred by throwing a seven kilogram rubber ball at ten wooden pins than by a session of therapeutic snogging. For if there was ever a mage that needed to be snogged into blissful exhaustion, it was Albus Dumbledore.
"I just find it very relaxing; I just hope one day to master the game now that I understand the scoring system. It's surprisingly complex, not even figuring out the dozen uses for dragon blood was as difficult as comprehending the scoring system." Albus then went on in great detail about such arcane things such as frames, strikes and spares. His voice slowed and then he grimaced an awkward smile. "Thank you for listening. I'm sure that you have little interest in ten-pin bowling."
"Your interests are mine," Malcolm quietly reassured Albus. "I found your explanation of the game quite fascinating."
The courtesan did sound interested, but Albus' face fell, and he shook his head. His previous enthusiasm was replaced by a dark despondency.
"Don't, please," he plaintively pleaded. "You don't have to act as if you're really interested in my ramblings. I'd much prefer if you didn't sham. I get that fakeness all the time, and I'm weary of it. I need frankness and honesty from someone, Malcolm, and I'm bloody paying you a king's ransom… to provide me with what I want. If I wanted a bloody arse kisser, I could have my pick of them… I want you to be honest and sincere with me. If I bloody bore you with my conversations, you are to tell me. I didn't hire you for the sex, Malcolm; you were hired to be my companion for tonight and possibly tomorrow."
"I was interested," protested Malcolm. "For the first time since we met, your eyes lit up and you were passionate and animated. You weren't weighed down by sorrow and you weren't ill at ease with me or my profession. So, yes, I was fascinated by how such a mundane seeing game brought you such pleasure. Plus, I truly do enjoy learning about new topics and specialties as I was a Ravenclaw when I attended Hogwarts. It's one of the perks of my profession that I'm in close contact with knowledgeable and cultured souls such as you."
The two men stared at each other and then Malcolm quirked a quick smile.
"And if you want honesty from me, I'll give it to you, Albus. I think that you desperately need to be snogged, and I'm planning that before we go to the concert that I will snog you until you're breathless and your head is spinning," Malcolm calmly promised. "And I also believe that you're quite delectable when you blush. Your ingenuousness is a rather endearing trait of yours, you know, at such odds with your formidable reputation and it makes me feel exceptionally protective of you. I must remember not to cause you to color so prettily at the concert; else you'll be swamped by admirers determined to shelter you."
Albus blushed, and he whispered, "Delectable? Are you sure you're not confusing me with a trifle?"
"Tasty, scrumptious, delicious, mouth-watering and luscious. That's you, Albus, and you're all mine," Malcolm possessively growled. Then he quickly grinned and shook his head. "Oh, Albus, don't look at me like that. You're not a virgin sacrifice. I'm not planning on slathering you with jam and cream and then devouring you. While it would be quite fun, my mattress would be quite sticky."
Dumbledore was terribly, terribly flustered by the very idea of being covered with raspberry jam and he knew that he was blushing most dreadfully. Madam Esme had warned Albus that Malcolm was a terrible, terrible tease, but… he hadn't realize how truly frighteningly and yet delightfully wicked Malcom was. He struggled to look at Malcolm, but he couldn't.
"You look so horribly traumatized, Albus! Madam Esme should have warned you that I'm wicked."
He wasn't traumatized; no Albus was far from it. All Albus could think about was being turned into a very large Eton Mess, covered with strawberries, meringue and cream. It was truly obscene, he had no idea where that depraved, iniquitous thought had come from, but he felt a warm tingle in his belly at the very idea that Malcolm's mouth would be everywhere….
There was a soft chime and Malcolm dramatically sighed.
"Post," he explained. "It must be terribly important. Be right back or should I give you sufficient time to compose yourself?"
"You're wicked," protested Albus.
"I've heard that said," Malcolm admitted. "Usually it is said with a quite sated sigh."
Albus decided to check on Fawkes. That was the only reason why he decided to remove himself from the loveseat. It certainly wasn't because he wished to regain his composure. The Phoenix nestled with him, rubbing his beak against Albus' face, and the Phoenix approvingly chirped.
Everything is going splendidly! Will you and Malcolm be mating this evening? You should fix your hair so it looks nice. Potential mates notice plumage and you don't want to look scruffy.
As Albus' bond mate and familiar, he took his responsibility very seriously, so it was to be expected that a concerned Fawkes began to vigorously yet affectionately preen a very gobsmacked Albus. Fawkes wanted to ensure that Albus was well turned-out in order to attract Malcolm's sexual interest while Albus feared that Fawkes would accidentally straighten his crooked nose in his eagerness to tidy him.
Err… Fawkes… it's a little too early to know if Malcolm and I will be… mating… this evening. Albus timidly offered that comment to his overly enthusiastic familiar.
Stop squirming! You'll never mate unless you look pretty! Let me tidy up your beard. Hair is so difficult to straighten, feathers are so much easier!
I don't think I'm particularly… pretty… Fawkes, and I highly doubt that Malcolm believes that I'm attractive. He would be the first one in all of recorded history to find me physically appealing.
I see the way he watches you. He knows why you're here, what you want from him, and he's quite amenable to the idea. I can tell that you both wish to mate, as I can smell both your pheromones. Do mate with him, Albus. It's lonely, mating with yourself, the way you do it now. Mating with Malcolm will be quite good for you! Mating should be physical closeness between two, not just one and… you're lonelier after you mate yourself. It doesn't bring you relief, yet you still do it.
FAWKES! I don't bloody wank off every minute of every damn day! You should know that, as you are always there… when I… I… solitary… mate.
That had been an emotionally traumatic moment. He thought he had a few moments of privacy as his newly bonded Fawkes had been busy hunting in the Forbidden Forest for a snack, so he… had attempted to give himself some relief… and Fawkes had returned post-haste to his quarters, catching him in mid-wank. The Phoenix was an innocent, one of God's creatures, not cursed with the knowledge of Good and Evil that had sent Adam and Eve fleeing from the Garden, so he found nothing shameful in what Albus was doing. No, instead, he had sat on Albus' bedpost until Albus had… resolved the issue and he was clean and presentable once more. Fawkes had then nestled on his chest so the two could doze together in post-coital bliss.
Are you angry with me? Fawkes timidly questioned. The Phoenix then put his head under his wing, and retreated into himself, intent on making himself as small and chick like as physically possible. You know that I enjoy sharing everything with you as you're my wizard. I like sharing how it feels to fly with you…
Albus began gently stroking his trembling familiar, and attempted to reassure the distressed Fawkes.
No, no, never could I be mad with you. You just have to remember that particular matter is rather intimate and private for me… and your obsessive fascination with it continues to unnerve me. Please, forgive me, Fawkes. I didn't mean to upset you, you're everything to me. You know that.
Carefully, Dumbledore cradled Fawkes against his chest until Fawkes was calmer. The Phoenix rubbed his face against Albus' cheek in silent apology.
I just don't comprehend why you solitary mate, and I wish I did. I understand your need for physical release, but it doesn't bring you happiness. You think it's shameful and it just makes you melancholy. You want to mate, but yet you told him that's not why you're here. I don't understand. You should be honest with him.
Fawkes, it's just not that simple. I made the grievous mistake of… mating… with someone who was completely unsuitable. I deeply wounded Elphias with my infidelity and… my sister died because of my arrogance… and… stupidity. My brother rarely talks to me because of what happened. I make colossal mistakes, Fawkes, and I hope that you being here will prevent me from making another. Thank you for agreeing to meet him.
Naturally I'd want to meet him. My first time Burning, you stayed with me, and I wasn't scared at all, because you were there to keep me safe. Now tonight, don't fret! I'll stay with you while you mate. You don't need to be anxious as I'll be here.
Fawkes began to make soft crooning noises, comforting sounds suitable for a frightened nestling, and yes, he began to straighten Albus' hair once more as Fawkes thought it looked quite the fright.
You're…? You're…. staying? I don't know if Malcolm will want an audience during our… mating….
I promise you that when you mate with Malcolm, I'll be there. Malcolm will understand why I'm there because you're my mage and I'm your familiar… You wanted me to meet Malcolm so I could let you know what I thought of him. I'll need to be there for the mating as my opinion depends on how he treats you during the mating and how you feel afterwards. If he makes you feel dirty or ashamed, then I will be quite vexed. But I believe that he understands how you feel and he will make your mating wonderful for you.
He was surprised when he felt Malcolm placed his hand on the small of his back.
"You're blushing again, Albus. Were you and Fawkes having a naughty chat? Fawkes? Mind if I steal him away for just a brief moment?" Malcolm politely requested. "There have been some minor changes in our plans for this evening, so I just wish for your approval, Albus."
"Is there a problem?" Albus questioned while he gave Fawkes a final caress. The Phoenix flew to his perch where he could keep an eye on his mage.
"No, no, not a problem. Just an upgrade apparently," Malcolm explained. Carefully, he guided Albus to the couch and the two men sat down.
First thing Albus noticed was that it was a rather tight squeeze, as their legs were touching and then… then… Malcolm deliberately put his arm around Albus.
"Much better," Malcolm sighed in delight. "It seems Madam Esme had decided to call in some favors owed. Would you be horribly disappointed if we had a private box for tonight's concert? It seems that Esme was dreadfully worried that the seats you had chosen might not be as private as you might wish."
"They were the best I could afford," Albus admitted. "Plus they didn't have any box seats available."
"They're wonderful seats," quickly assured the courtesan. "Excellent line of sight and the sound is superb. Madam Esme was worried that you might get swamped by admirers and she knows you want a nice, quiet evening. She spoke to William Weasley about your predicament, and Bill acquired Morgan Moody's box seats for you. The Moodys are not utilizing the seats as his wife just dutifully presented him with baby Alastor. Since the Minister of Magic isn't a big fan of concert music, she was also delighted to volunteer hers so you could have use of it, but Bill and Esme thought it best not to put you there. It's a nicer setup than Moody's, but the rumors would start that you want Tessie's job."
"I don't desire the position of Minister of Magic," Albus protested. He kept saying it, and people would not listen. He couldn't handle the responsibility as he knew bloody well that he couldn't be trusted with power. "I'm content to be a teacher, but I'll be glad for the luxury and privacy of Moody's box seats. I must remember to thank William and Morgan for the seats."
William Arthur Weasley was on the Board of Governor for Hogwarts as was Morgan Moody. Albus was rather partial to William, as Weasley had managed to thwart Dippet's attempts at removing Albus from the staff of Hogwarts. Weasley had intervened because of his appreciation of how Albus had handled a certain sensitive situation involving William's quarreling sons, Septimus and Bilius. As for Moody, Albus didn't know Morgan Moody at all, as he was a rather reticent man, but he seemed to be part of Weasley's Hogwarts crowd and voted accordingly.
"Bill is throwing a party after the concert, so he sent you an invitation. He says that he knows that you don't normally do the social circuit, but it would be pleasant to see you at his party," Malcolm explained.
It was remarkably hard for Albus to coherently think, with Malcolm's arm around his shoulder, especially as Malcolm's fingers were busy caressing his face and playing with his beard, but something caught Albus' mind.
"Bill? You call William Weasley, Bill? And Minister Theresa Vance is fondly known as Tessie?" Albus exclaimed.
"I don't fondly call that old battleaxe, Tessie," retorted Malcolm. "But do you wish to accept the use of Moody's box seats? All the box seats have their views and their sound quality magically enhanced. Plus, the three of us wouldn't have to worry about being interrupted by your hordes of admiring fans. Privacy would be nice."
Malcolm turned to smile at him, and then he put his free hand on Albus' inner thigh. It was just a fleeting touch, but it seemed magical as the sensation of delighted anticipation utterly overwhelmed Albus. He couldn't help but stare at Malcolm, and the courtesan noticed Albus' gaze.
"Do I have something in my teeth? Is that why you're staring at me?" Malcolm quipped.
"No, no, no, I was wondering… if I might ask you to kiss me," Albus softly questioned. He flushed, as he was being dreadfully bold.
Thankfully, Fawkes kept his running mental commentary to himself and Malcolm didn't tease Albus, no, instead he smiled.
"I think that I would quite enjoy giving you a proper kiss. Don't move," Malcolm requested. Carefully, reverently, he cupped Albus' face in his hands. "Close your eyes."
Albus did so, and he pondered if he should keep his mouth closed or opened.
Inwardly, he was shivering in delighted anticipation. It was akin to how he felt picking out his first wand at Ollivander's.
Malcolm didn't wait for him to figure out what to do, as he felt Malcolm's lips brush against his cheek first. Then Malcolm's lips touched his.
Oh.
Kissing was better than warm, fuzzy socks for cold feet on a chilly night.
It was an almost liquid warmth that quickly spread through his body, melting away all his worries and concerns about his inadequacies. Malcolm's lips were still closed and Albus wondered if he was expected to do more on his end. Hesitantly, Albus opened his mouth and he deliberately touched Malcolm's lips with his tongue.
Ohhh. Very, very nice.
Emboldened, Albus continued to kiss Malcolm, growing more assertive, until Malcolm pulled away. He tenderly stroked Albus' face before he gently tapped Albus' crooked nose in admonishment.
"You're going too fast, Albus. You need to savor this experience," he instructed. He sat back in the couch and he began to tease and tantalize Albus' neck with lazy fingers. "Now, as I was saying, you were invited to the Weasley party, and then there was another invitation. The LeStranges, the Blacks and the Malfoys are having a party, and anyone who is anyone will be there. Bill can't compete with their parties, so he'll understand if you wish to go to that one. Tessie must have told them that you were coming out into society tonight because Esmeralda and Bill wouldn't have mentioned it. Which festivity do you want to attend?"
Malcolm's left hand was still lazily massaging his neck, sending shivers and tingles down Albus' back into his belly and creating a rather monumental response elsewhere. Carefully, Albus shifted his hands just slightly in order to preserve a modicum of decorum.
"Don't hide it like it's something shameful, Albus," Malcolm softly chided him. The courtesan placed his right hand on Albus' hands. "'Tis a grand thing, Albus, a wonderful thing. It needs to cherished, shared and enjoyed, not concealed."
"You told me not to rush," a flustered Albus protested.
"Feelings of delightful anticipation and heightened desire are completely different from mindlessly ripping off our clothes and having painful gorilla sex on the settee. I pledge to you that I will not rip my off shirt, pound on my chest, grunt and then have rough gorilla sex with you. So, which party do you want to attend?" questioned Malcolm, who seemed to be quite content to drive Albus around the bend and back again.
"I'm not very comfortable at parties. I only attend parties only if I must, and I'd prefer not to attend either," Albus admitted.
"Either Bill's party or Malfoy's," Malcolm stated. "If you don't attend either, you'll have snubbed both of them, and I do not believe that they'll be particularly chuffed."
"Do you have a preference?" Albus questioned. St. Rhys must have a first choice.
"I don't have a choice," answered the courtesan. "What party you attend, I will go. Naturally, I will be standing three steps behind you to ensure that I am close enough so I may bask in your reflected glory, yet not close enough for me to forget my status."
"You won't stand next to me when I attend the Weasley Party?" Albus nervously questioned.
Somehow, he had made the decision to attend one of these horrid gatherings, and his stomach began to roil. Appearing in public with a bloody courtesan, a male courtesan, he might as well strip naked and pose for The Daily Prophet's Page 3. Come Monday morning, Armando Dippet would be doing backflips in the Great Hall. There would be an Emergency Meeting of the Governors on Monday morning and his sexual preference would once more be the matter of conversation.
Yet, he wouldn't go to tomorrow's party looking the sad sack. If he appeared with Malcolm at their party, Leah and Elphias wouldn't have to be concerned about him, and they could focus on their little one. Therefore, he'd attend the damn party and deal with Monday morning when it came.
"I'm not particularly good with social events. I'm collectively awkward and backward in public, Malcolm. I can't make small talk," shakily protested Albus. "I'd much rather go the concert, perhaps dinner and then come back here."
Malcolm said not a word.
Bloody, bloody, bloody hell. Couldn't Malcolm see that Albus wasn't any good at social get-togethers? He was almost sixty five years old; he had been celibate for almost fifty bloody years and was quite close to being in virginal condition. Weren't they big enough hints regarding his social shortcomings? Must Albus spell it out for him?
"I think it would be delightful to have you to myself. I don't want to share you with anyone," asserted a desperate Albus. "Perhaps, we could just skip the concert and just stay here?"
"I must warn Madam Esme that you've charm enough to lure the birds out of the sky. Never fear, I'll be with you and I can help you with the chin wagging required. You need to start reading the social columns," Malcolm sagely explained. "You need to learn the political and social currents of our world, for there are those nefarious souls that will use you if you are unwary."
"I don't want to be involved with politics," Albus insisted.
"Whether you like it or not, you are involved. Now, I know it's terribly gauche to use Fawkes as an messenger bird, but I'd suggest that you utilize him to respond back to Bill's party invitation. It will significantly increase William's social standing if you send Fawkes with your acceptance to his invitation. You will also need to send an Owl to Lestrange, advising him that you most truly regret declining his invitation but that you had already agreed to William's invitation. Slip in your regrets a pointed reminder that Bill's on the Board of Governors for your school, that you're the Assistant Headmaster and that propriety and your job security demands that you attend Bill's party. Let me get ink, parchment and a quill for you."
"Am I going to the right party?" questioned Albus after the missives had been posted to their respective parties. "I don't particularly care for the LeStranges and their cronies."
Malcolm nodded his head. "LeStrange's parties have an unsavory reputation. The Weasleys don't have the money they once did, thanks to Bill's father, but the Weasleys are good stock. Plus Bilius is homosexual, so the fact that there will be various same sex pairings attending will be discreetly ignored. William Weasley is a force to be reckoned with when his family honor is impugned."
"You know about Bilius?" Albus softly questioned. Dumbledore remembered all too well the frantic student who had desperately attempted to seduce him one spring afternoon. Bilius' seduction effort had been raw and painful, a young man's attempt to come to terms with what society believed to be deviant behavior. Fortunately, Fawkes had been there to help him keep his emotional equilibrium when Bilius had kissed him.
It had only been one sweet kiss, and a very long, heartfelt conversation between the two of them, in which Albus had reassured the troubled Weasley that he wasn't abnormal, peculiar, strange or morally twisted. It was the much-needed conversation with a trusted mentor that Albus had never once had the good fortune to have. He had muddled through their dialogue as best he could, struggling to be both reassuring and paternal. Bilius had been such a conflagration of teenage hormones that Albus had feared that he might give the under-aged Bilius the wrong idea about their supposed relationship. They had ended their conversation with a hearty handshake and a firm understanding that Bilius could talk to Albus in his office anytime. Plus, Bilius had been reassured that if there had been any more friction between Bilius and his brother regarding this personal matter, Albus would intervene.
Elphias was lucky to find Leah as she healed him of those horrible notions of shame and embarrassment. If you had only someone you could have confided in when you were Bilius' age, things would be different. That sense of disgrace would be replaced by the understanding that mating is an astonishing experience, full of tenderness and closeness.
More importantly, Fawkes, if I hadn't let my hormones run merrily amuck, Ariana wouldn't have died in a three way magical brawl.
Fawkes sent him a wave of such loving support that it nearly did him in. He had to blink to prevent the tears from falling from his eyes.
"Albus?" The sharp-eyed Malcolm questioned. "You seem… sad."
Albus forced a cheery smile on his face, and shook his head. "I'm sorry; you said you knew about Bilius?"
"I'm not supposed to admit this, but he was a former client," explained Malcolm. "Good dancer, but since he was a Seeker, they're usually pretty nimble. Since I'm taller, I led, plus I do have a bit of a take charge personality. Most men prefer to lead when dancing, so two men dancing together can sometimes lead to abused toes, which in turn lead to a fist-fight and the waving of wands."
"Men dance together?" Albus questioned. "How remarkable, and there's no public outcry?"
"Yes, men dance together, and well, it's usually at a private club." Malcolm said. "Do you dance?"
"Not at all well," regretfully admitted Albus. "Not sure where exactly to put my hands."
Malcolm looked at the clock and then smiled. "We've got time before the concert. Shall I teach you how to dance? Something simple? Like a waltz? I'll teach you how to lead that way you can dance with your female professors at Hogwarts."
"Very well, face me," Malcolm explained. "Now place your right hand on my waist, slightly around my back and extend your left hand to your side with your elbow bent and your palm raised facing me."
Albus did so, and Malcolm grabbed Albus' right hand and positioned it securely on Malcolm's waist.
"You can touch me, you know. If you get too forward and I am in true fear of my virtue remaining intact, I'll let you know," quipped Malcolm. "Now I'll loosely grasp your left hand, and I'll put my left hand on your right shoulder. Notice my left elbow is bent. I will mirror your movements, except I'll be doing it completely backwards. The waltz has a triple beat, and on the first beat, you step forward on your left foot, and I'll step backwards on my right. Very well, shall we begin?"
It took some time, but they managed a decent waltz. They twirled and whirled to the music, and the two men shared a laugh when a rather giddy Fawkes decided to it necessary to fly wildly and acrobatically around the two men.
"I'm getting dizzy," Albus admitted after a particularly non-regulation twirl. "I think Fawkes is disorientating me."
"Better slow down then," Malcolm said. He pulled Albus closer to him and he moved his hands down to Albus' waist. "Put your arms on my shoulders. Since I'm taller, I'll lead."
That done, Malcolm pulled Albus still closer to him. The two men were truly quite close, almost intimately close, and they were swaying to the music. Albus could smell Malcolm's cologne, feel the softness of his shirt and the warmth of Malcolm's body.
"This isn't a waltz," Albus whispered. "Lovely music."
"No, it's "Moonlight Serenade" by Glenn Miller. He's an American. Big Band musician, quite talented," Malcolm explained. He began to softly sing the lyrics in Albus' ears. He had a decent voice fortunately. "The stars are aglow and tonight how their light sets me dreaming. My love, do you know that your eyes are like stars brightly beaming? I bring you and sing you a Moonlight Serenade."
There might have been more lyrics to be sung, but Malcolm stopped his impromptu concert to kiss Albus.
And yes, Malcolm snogged Albus until the greatest mage of the current age was breathless and dizzy.