A/N # 1 – Well not 2 of 2. 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
Thanks to MyMadness for her help with this.
We last left Albus and Filius having cleared the air.
A quick buzz on his cheek was a pensive Albus' reward for chatting with Filius. Albus was still lost in thought so he didn't say anything.
Filius believed that I wasn't talking to him because he has a smidgeon of goblin blood?
"So, Master Filius does not appear to have hexed off your nethers in a fit of pique?" Malcolm drolly remarked in an attempt to break the silence.
Albus' eyebrows quirked in amusement even as Malcolm seriously continued, "I'd be quite distressed if he decided to hex them. Though I can assure you that I would put aside my righteous anger in order to kiss and console you."
If Malcolm was attempting to cause Albus to blush, he failed.
"I envy you," Albus softly informed Malcolm. His tone was serious, though Malcolm's quirked smile betrayed his belief that Albus was pulling his wand.
"Pray tell, why would you envy me?"
He truly didn't understand why Albus might envy him?
"You're at ease with who you are," explained Albus.
"You're ruddy serious, aren't you?" Malcolm retorted. He turned somber, and sagely nodded his head. "Let me guess, you always wanted nothing more than a cozy little cottage with roses 'round the door with a loving spouse, 3.8 kids and a crup. Instead, you're only a bloody celebrity, the savior of the free world."
Fawkes voiced his displeasure at being compared to a crup and being deemed lacking.
"Fawkes, it is naturally assumed by all that you are far better than any mere crup," smoothly added Malcolm. "You really want the cottage with roses?"
"When I was younger, no, I didn't. Now, now, I am quite jealous of Elphias and Leah. I believe that I could be quite content with such a serene life," Albus confessed.
To actually have a partner that cared for him? What would it be like to return from a long day of teaching to have a partner and little ones waiting for him? To wake in the middle of the night and have someone next to him in his bed?
"Some mages are destined for more than….," Malcolm began.
"I don't bloody want greatness," spat Albus. "I don't desire to be the Minister of Magic as I am content to be an instructor at Hogwarts. Why is that so bloody hard for you to believe that I don't want my supposed glorious destiny crammed down my throat? I just wish to be left alone."
Albus didn't mean "you" as in Malcolm, he meant you as in the entire bloody world; the women who sent him silky unmentionables, the politicians who attempted to latch unto him to promote his supposed approval toward their own nefarious designs, Dippet and his obscene obsession with Albus' sexuality and everyone else who wouldn't give him any breathing room. But mostly, Albus directed his anger toward his younger, stupider self who had been too self-absorbed to know he had possessed everything that was truly important so his tone came out much harsher than he meant.
Instead of making a glib comment, Malcolm stopped talking. Albus felt a chill form in their formerly warm camaraderie because Albus Dumbledore was nasty git.
Bloody hell, bloody hell. I don't want to be left alone by YOU. I need you so damn badly, Malcolm.
"I'm truly sorry; I don't mean to be such a bloody stroppy cow," Albus sincerely apologized. "Please, accept my heartfelt regret."
"You don't need to apologize to me," was Malcolm's soft response. "It's not necessary."
"It IS necessary to me," was Albus' immediate protest. "Please, I'm sorry. Forgive me. It was most unwarranted."
"No, I overstepped, so it is my fault," retorted a rather remote Malcolm. "My apologies, Albus."
Bloody hell, Malcolm was being courteous and refined! He was acting the docile and deferential whore and Albus was his bloody punter. Albus much preferred Malcolm cheeky and irrepressible.
Albus knew that he lacked the knack to apologies. He always spoke his words of regret. In a perfect world, the victim of Albus' stupidity, the wounded object of his thoughtlessness, would hear Albus' deep sincerity in his inelegant apologies and would accept his contrition. But it was not a perfect world, and far too often Albus' wounded justifiably doubted his sincerity. Albus sincerely meant his apologies, truly, he did. All his years alone, he had become too aware of how one action, one word could change the course of events.
But his requests for forgiveness were always fumbling and awkward. The ungainliness of his spoken words overshadowed his deep sincerity, his true earnestness in obtaining his victim's forgiveness.
Ariana would never be able to shrive Albus, Aberforth had vowed on their parents' graves to never forgive him, and it had taken far too long to convince Elphias of his remorse. Truly, credit must be given to Leah for her role in Elphias' life, as she had healed the wounds that Albus had inflicted.
His headache came back roaring back to life like a hungry Hungarian Horntail, and Albus' head felt as though it was being squeezed in a vice. Albus abruptly sat down and closed his eyes. He began rubbing his temples in the feeble hopes that it would help ease the pain.
Your head! The pains are back! Fawkes whispered.
"It's been a very pleasant outing, but I fear that it would be best if I return to Hogwarts," Albus whispered. "Regretfully, I must inform you that I won't be requiring your services tomorrow as I'll advise Elphias and Leah that I'm unable to attend. Don't be afraid about your remuneration, I assured Madam Esme that you would get paid for the full weekend."
Perhaps Matron Maloney would be kind enough to allow him a sip or perhaps three of Headache Be Gone potion. He didn't like using the narcotic laced potion, but tonight, tonight he'd like to sleep.
"I beg your pardon? I'm being cavalierly dismissed? You're sending me on my merry way believing that by assuring me that I'll be paid for the entire weekend that I won't raise a fuss," questioned a disbelieving Malcolm. "Are you displeased with my services? Didn't you enjoy yourself? Before I go anywhere, I desire to know what has caused this!"
"I truly enjoyed our time together, and I will treasure every moment," Albus insisted. It was the truth, as he was planning on putting these memories into his Pensieve so he could re-live every wonderful, magnificent moment, well, except for these past few horrible minutes. "But I need to return to Hogwarts…"
The pains doubled then and he could do nothing more than cradle his head. It would be dangerous to Disapparate back to Hogwarts in his condition, as he might misjudge and Apparate in someone's wall in Hogsmeade. Perhaps Fawkes would take him home?
"Lie down," Malcolm softly ordered. He put his hand on Albus' shoulder and gently pushed him backwards on the couch. "Close your eyes and try to relax. Once you're supine, I'll do something for your headache. Why didn't you tell me your headache was back?"
Not wishing to answer, Albus just did as he was instructed. He found his head was being cradled in Malcolm's hands and Malcolm's fingertips were gently pressing into his head.
"My fingertips are pressing into the junction between the neck muscles and the base of the skull. Adjust yourself until it feels like you're in the right spot as it should loosen your head."
Fawkes chirped his appreciation and then the Phoenix began softly crooning.
"Lumos Pesternomi," whispered Malcolm. The lights in the room dimmed, and Albus felt something silky being placed over his eyes.
"Don't worry, it's my muffler," explained Malcolm. "It'll block the light. You need to learn to handle pressure better. I fully expect to open the Daily Prophet one day to read the alarming front page news that your head has quite popped off your shoulders due to your high stress levels. Tonight…I will do everything in my power to relax you. That's only if I can break your headache."
"Tonight?" hopefully questioned Albus. There's to be a tonight even after my bad behavior?
"Yes, tonight. Tonight, I think you need a full body massage," Malcolm informed him. "I'll take my time and knead your muscles until they're nice and loose. I'll use a great deal of massage oil… do you have any preference on what oil I should use?"
"None," Albus whispered. Surprisingly, the pressure of Malcolm's fingertips against the back of his head was easing the pains in his head.
"We'll discuss it more later; I have all sorts of delicious ideas," cheerily assured the courtesan. "Now rest for a bit."
Gratefully, Albus closed his eyes.
"Are you ready to meet your adoring public?" Malcolm questioned. "We've been in here for almost thirty minutes and I'm sure people are wondering when you're making your triumphant entrance."
A pain free Albus harrumphed as he sat up. He stretched and Malcolm began to massage Albus' left shoulder.
"I have a wicked, wicked idea, which might make it more fun for you," Malcolm commented. Then he narrowed his blue eyes and gave Albus a long, appraising look. For good measure, he brushed his hand against Albus' cheek. "But… no… you're a bit shy, the very idea might thoroughly traumatize you and leave you the foetal position, rocking in the corner. Please, forget that I even mentioned it. Wipe any illicit thought of unrivaled erotic temptation from your weary mind."
Really, how could Albus not want more information? He desired to be bold and audacious like Malcolm, to shake off his shy gay boy persona and therefore he'd willingly do whatever Malcolm suggested.
For a moment, he felt uneasy, as that desire reminded him too much of his unhealthy eagerness to please Gellert.
He's not him! Malcolm can laugh at himself, Fawkes reminded his mage. Trust your wings so you can fly! Nestlings need to learn to trust their wings!
"Tell me," insisted Albus as Malcolm stopped kneading his shoulder. .
"A little bird told me while you were sleeping that you're a Legilimens, and that's part of the reason why you have such bad headaches. You're still quite tired from What I have been Paid not to Mention so everyone's thoughts are just ramming themselves against your brain. That's most inconsiderate of them," Malcolm dryly commented. Then in more conciliatory tones, he added, "Now, don't get angry with Fawkes, as I was just wondering if I should call for a Healer. It's not healthy that you're laid low with headaches twice in the same evening."
"This is the first time I've had two headaches," Albus vainly protested.
Because his headaches normally start first thing in the morning and he doesn't stop hurting until I sing him to sleep.
Albus glared at the birded betrayer, Fawkes, who had the nerve to look not look the faintest bit ashamed. Bad enough that the Phoenix had chatted with Malcolm, but to reveal his secrets?
"Seduction is not just physical, Albus. It is an emotional… spiritual and yes… mental experience. I'd like you to pop into my mind, and I can show you what delicious things I have planned for you."
"Pop into your mind?" protested Albus. Truly, legilimency was an art. 'Popping into his mind' was not how Albus would describe the experience. Legilimency was akin to swimming in a pool of crystal clear, cool water on a hot summer day…
"Yes, is there a better term?" Malcolm innocently questioned. "I don't worry that you'll rummage around in my brain. If you do, there's nothing in it except for lusty thoughts of how delectable you are. Come on, don't you want to know what illicit fantasies you're starring in?"
"I simply can not believe that I'm starring…" protested Albus.
"Oh yes, and they're such lovely fantasies. I have this divine bathroom. It's decadent and oh so self-indulgent, as the floors are nicely heated. There's nothing worse than cold tile under your bare feet," Malcolm assured Albus. "I also have a very large bathtub. It's deep enough so you can soak up to your chin and there's enough room for both of us. You're sitting in my lap and… you're relaxing as there are these marvelous little jets… that make the water bubble and circulate. They're wonderful for tight muscles… do you want to know what else is happening?"
Albus managed to breath once more and he nodded his head.
"Slip into my mind, Albus."
Hesitantly, Albus did and he was surprised by the mental sensations he experienced. Desire, for one, and he knew he was blushing when he realized what exactly they were doing in the tub. Or should he be honest? What he was letting Malcolm do to him. Albus could feel the warm water, Malcolm's lips nuzzling his neck and then they both nearly drowned when a disapproving Fawkes decided to splash them.
Mating takes place in the nest, silly! Not in the bathing water! Water is for drinking, for the cleaning of feathers and talons, not mating! Are you fishes or wizards?
Malcolm laughed, and Fawkes chirped his displeasure.
"I'm sorry, Fawkes, truly I am, but you splashing Albus was quite unexpected and exceeding amusing. Does he join in your bath often, Albus?" Malcolm questioned.
Albus wouldn't admit to it to anyone, but Fawkes was rather uncommonly fond of water, and if Albus was bathing, then so much the better. Fawkes believed that as Albus' dedicated familiar he needed to keep an eye on his mage at all times so he'd stay out of trouble.
"Fawkes, I hope you understand that I'm quite inhibited," Malcolm informed the Phoenix. "And if I can waylay your mage into my bath, I must request that you not join us."
The Phoenix, damn him, looked quite disappointed, as he so loved to splash in Albus' tub, especially when he was close to the Burn as it cooled his feverish skin. His crest wilted and he was pouting… yes, a pouting Phoenix. Merciful Merlin! He saved the world from a Dark Wizard and he was bloody, ruddy Henpecked… YES… HENPECKED by his FAMILIAR!
"But when we're in my bedroom," Malcolm continued. "You can watch, and in fact, if you desire to spontaneously break out in song, be my guest…It will do wonders for my self-esteem issue."
Fawkes brightened immediately, and the damn bird nuzzled Malcolm.
I quite like him; MUST we return him when you're done with him this weekend? We could hide him in your room at Hogwarts. No one would EVER know he was there! He could keep me entertained while you're teaching! You wouldn't have to worry about feeding him; I could hunt for him in the Forbidden Forest! There are all sorts of tasty things there!
"Sounds simply delicious, Fawkes," a shuddering Malcolm dryly assured the Phoenix.
"MALCOLM!" Albus feebly protested. "Fawkes doesn't need your instigation."
"But you, my dear, delicious Albus desperately need instigation. Now, everyone's wondering why you and I… and Fawkes," Malcolm quickly added when Fawkes glared at him. "Are still barricaded in this room. Are we having an assignation? A duel? Am I reciting love sonnets in your ear? Perhaps you're talking dirty to me. Try not to smirk when we leave the room, Albus, else naughty rumors will start about you taking advantage of sweet, innocent and oh so impressionable me."
Albus stared at him in stunned disbelief. Sweet? Innocent? Malcolm?
"My Great Aunt Tessie mistakenly believes that I'm as pure as the driven snow," Malcolm explained. "That is in spite of knowing how I make my living as a rent-boy in this cruel, cruel world."
Fawkes released a very unPhoenixy cackle.
"I had a slight headache, William," Albus explained the reason for his disappearance to a concerned William Weasley. "I thought a few minutes of quiet in your room might help slay it, and it did."
Weasley narrowed his eyes and leaned close, "I'm glad you're feeling better. You get things settled with Filius, Albus?"
"Yes," Albus assured him.
"That's what gave him the headache, Bill. Now, I'm not saying Fi was the cause, but Albus was quite distressed after their conversation," Malcolm helpfully inserted.
"Fi? You call Filius Flitwick, Fi?" questioned Albus.
"We've met once or twice before. In Monte Carlo, or was it on the banks of the Rhine? He had just zapped that Prussian mage into insensibility at the International Dueling Championships. The rather lovely ladies of the town had crowned him with a Coronae triumphales of laurel leaves and were carrying Fi on their shoulders as he was the conquering hero," explained a far too glib Malcolm.
Albus stared at him, disbelieving the very idea of the diminutive Filius Flitwick being carried on maidens' shoulders like an exultant, victorious hero and Bill…no, William… Weasley shook his head in amused incredulity.
"You must tell me how you can afford that wit on your Hogwarts' salary, Albus," William teased. He turned somber and took Albus by his arm in order to pull him into a quiet corner. Taking the hint, Malcolm meandered over to the bar.
"I was not happy to find out that Filius and you were not speaking, Albus," the Governor of Hogwarts sternly informed him. "You've got everything to rights now?"
"Yes, William," Albus repeated his reassurance. "I can certainly assure you that I am not prejudiced against Filius because of his heritage."
"I didn't believe you were blinkered like that so I was quite distressed when he spoke to me of his concerns. I had assured him that you would welcome him with open arms to Hogwarts."
Well, Dippet thought I'd welcome him by spreading his legs and pounding him into my mattress, Albus thought but wisely didn't say.
"It's very important that you and Filius get along. Morgan and I worked exceedingly hard to get him into that position as Malfoy and his crowd wanted someone less suitable and more malleable to their way of thinking. After retiring from dueling, Filius Flitwick could have had his pick of careers and made a hell of lot more money than most of our staff members at Hogwarts; you being the lone exception as you can afford a bloody weekend with Malcolm."
Albus flushed at that comment.
"People like you and Filius and Galatea are bloody necessary at that school. Our students desperately need instructors who aren't blinded by pure-blood nonsense, who treat human and non-human, pure-blood, half-blood and Muggle born all the same. You took Rubeus Hagrid under your wing and ensured that he had a place to stay after that misfortunate incident. What would have happened to him if you hadn't spoken to Dippet?" William intently questioned Albus and then answered his own question. "He would have fallen in with a bad crowd. They would have used the boy for nefarious purposes. I knew his father and it would have broken his heart."
"Yes, his father loved Rubeus very much," Albus agreed. "When he knew he was ill, he came to me and asked if I would keep an eye on Rubeus as his mother was uninterested in nurturing him."
"I must apologize for revealing your sexuality to Filius. It's none of his business, but he was so vexed that you weren't speaking to him that he was about to call you out for a duel. You may be the fastest wand in the Western Hemisphere but Filius has an impossible strike zone," explained William. "I feared losing both of you! I need you both teaching our impressionable youth, not recuperating at St. Mungo's!"
"He would have found out sooner rather than later," Albus reminded William. "You don't need to apologize."
"I insist and therefore I will apologize. You should be able to talk to any of your colleagues and any of your students without Dippet swooning over the possible scandal. I worry, Albus, at the possible outcome of the next election of the Board of Governors. Moody and I believe that we will be replaced with new Malfoy-sponsored candidates. The LeStranges have come into money, and they're making large contributions to Hogwarts so they're the most likely additions. That's why Moody and I wanted Filius in now before Galatea retires. "
"LeStrange?" Albus protested. "Narrow minded, blinkered sycophants."
"Enough shop talk," William announced. "You go have fun with your old classmate."
Weasley winked at him.
"You don't have a problem with me… paying him?" whispered Albus.
"I hired him for Bilius, Albus. He's very highly recommended and quite discreet." The dark haired wizard sighed and shook his head. "Truly I wish you would believe me; I have never had a problem with your sexuality. You are a decent, upstanding soul who had the traumatic experience of having one of my sons proposition you. You turned him down. Gently. He was very confused and extremely desperate for assurance about his sexuality. You took the time to talk to him and reassure him that he wasn't a deviant."
"He's not," Albus fiercely protested.
"No, my son is most assuredly not an immoral deviant. There are others, blackguards and scoundrels, who would have taken advantage of Bilius' inexperience and wounded him. His late mother and I knew for years and it mattered not a lick to us. In fact, we were delighted as that meant we had one son where we didn't have to worry about some witch's father arriving on our doorstep demanding a wand-wedding."
"Thank you, William." Albus tried to express his sincere gratitude to William Weasley for his understanding, but the Hogwarts Governor shook his head.
"Bill, Albus, I insist on you calling me Bill. No, thank you, as you convinced my son to talk to me. I desired to talk to him but I thought it best if he approached me when he was ready. We had a very long overdue talk and you're responsible for that," Weasley reminded him. "Now, you better hurry as your date is tangoing with Galatea."
"Galatea's here?" Albus questioned.
"And dancing with Malcolm, which should be a cause for alarm for all concerned," William dryly commented.
Albus entered the ball room where he found Malcolm and Galatea were in the center of the room, performing a blistering Argentinean tango that left nothing to the imagination. They were standing quite close and then the two ended their dance with a piernazo, her one leg wrapped scandalously high around Malcolm's waist. They stood there for a bit, breathing heavily while the crowd applauded.
Fawkes whistled his appreciation of the dance and a flustered Albus shushed him. The Phoenix was being unbelievably rowdy and ill-mannered and Albus wondered if Malcolm had slipped his familiar more champagne.
"I thought she was complaining about her buggered hip earlier," Horace Slughorn whispered in Albus' ear. "Quite a surprise to see you out and about, Albus. You usually decline my invitations to social events. Fawkes, pleasure to see you as always."
The Potion Master's pale gooseberry eyes narrowed, "Any idea who that fellow is dancing with Galatea? Filius nearly went for his wand as he thought the bloke was getting fresh with Galatea. I assured Filius that if Galatea believed the man's advances were unwarranted, she could handle herself."
Bad enough Filius, but Horace… and GALATEA?
"No, no idea at all," a flustered Albus lied.
Naturally, Filius Flitwick ruined his prevarication as he was trailing after Horace.
"Albus, I must protest the scandalous behavior of your friend," Filius growled. "When you and Bill had your chat, he swooped in and asked Galatea to dance."
The two troublemakers were strolling over to them, appearing completely uncaring of the gossip that they had caused, but knowing Galatea as well as he did, Albus knew that she was relishing every damn moment. Malcolm… well, he was gloating at the attention.
It was a sham, Albus realized, because everyone would be discussing the sexually explicit tango and no one would realize that Malcolm was actually Albus' date.
"Albus! Malcolm informed me that you had actually left Godric's monastery this evening. Naturally, I didn't believe him until I saw he was wearing a Phoenix feather in his lapel. Now, Albus, I'm quite upset with you, as he has a feather from Fawkes, and I don't," Galatea teased Albus. She turned toward Malcolm and gave him a mock glare. "How do you rate that?"
"We're old school chums," inserted Albus. "If you desired a feather from Fawkes, you should have mentioned it."
"I don't know about you, but after that dance I could certainly use a drink. Anyone else?" Malcolm offered. Horace declined as did Albus and Galatea, but Filius decided he wished a drink.
The two mismatched souls walked over to the bar, with Malcolm leaning down to talk to Filius. Their conversation was quite intense.
"Malcolm also assured me that you are quite the dancer, Albus. Naturally, I refused to believe it, as you never dance at the Yule Ball, no matter how many times I ask. So come on!" Galatea insisted. "Horace, Filius, I hope you don't mind. I've been trying to dance with this ginger haired rapscallion for the last ten years or so, and he's always refused, claiming that he doesn't know how to dance."
She pulled Albus onto the dance floor while Horace laughed. Fortunately, Fawkes agreed to find another perch for the duration of the dance. He flew to one of the ceiling beams, and began to groom himself as he had an itchy patch of skin that needed attention.
Showoff! Albus fondly chastised his familiar. You picked that spot as the light lands on you and shows off your marvelous coloring.
"So who is he? Where did you meet? Have you shagged him yet?" Galatea immediately questioned when they were slow dancing. Without waiting for an answer, she continued, "He's quite the charmer, Albus. You are being careful aren't you? You don't have a lot of experience in the romance department and he's a smooth operator. I'll be quite vexed if he hurts you. But a Phoenix Feather, you must be quite smitten with him."
That was the first flaw in his plan, what happened when people asked him about Malcolm, as it seemed passing Mal off as an old school chum might not work.
"You two seem quite comfortable with each other, so it's been a while. Yet you blush with him, so it's still exciting and new for you," deduced Galatea. "Why didn't you tell me you found someone? When did this happen? I would have invited you two out for dinner!"
"We went to school together. He was a year or two ahead. We got in contact recently and there seemed to be sparks," Albus explained, hoping that it was enough.
It was, as the grey eyed, libertine Galatea was delighted.
"I'm so glad for you, Albus. I was so worried about you after you were released from that Teutonic nightmare of a hospital," Merrythought informed him. "You were utterly shattered and when you asked me to stay…"
Albus blushed as he had prayed that Galatea would never ever mention that incident, how on his first night back at Hogwarts after the battle, he had propositioned Galatea.
"Will you share my bed with me tonight?" Albus had inelegantly pleaded.
It had been a fit of desperate insanity, an overwhelming desire to feel normal for once. Elphias had found happiness in Leah's loving arms, perchance could he not do the same? Galatea had deliberately misunderstood his request and had overlooked his pathetically lame attempts at heterosexual seduction. The witch had ignored his shy kisses and had tightly held onto his wandering hands to ensure that things remained completely chaste between them. Instead of sex, she had tightly embraced him and had soothed Albus when he had woke, screaming, from his nightmares where Gellert, Aberforth and Ariana lay dead at his feet.
"I feared that I made the wrong decision that night," she whispered. "I knew what you wanted from me, but I didn't think it would be fair to you. But you've been so reticent lately, Albus, that I wondered if I should have offered you … closeness. I refused because I worried about ruining our friendship. Sex does that too often, and I believed that you needed a friend more than a lay."
"I needed you to be you, Galatea," he firmly stated as they turned to the music.
"You're a wonderful dancer, Albus. So light on your feet. Did Malcolm teach you to dance?" The witch teased.
He didn't respond, thinking it would be worth making Galatea wait for an answer and the dreadful witch laughed.
"Albus, you're smiling again. I haven't seen you smile in the longest time!"
The dance ended so Albus escorted Galatea off the dance floor to where their friends were sitting. Filius had conjured up a cozy little sitting area in a corner of the room and there was even a perch for Fawkes who was quaffing more champagne and strawberries from Malcolm, the enabler. The Hogwarts professors had a crowd of people around them and Galatea jabbed him in the ribs.
"All your fault," she hissed. "Though dear Horace is delightedly making contacts. Don't worry, he won't promise you for anything."
Malcolm politely stood up and let Galatea have his place which was next to Filius Flitwick. He motioned to Albus and the disappointed crowd watched as the two men walked towards the bar.
"Just to let you know, Filius knows what I do for a living," Malcolm managed to say without moving his lips.
"Bloody hell," growled Albus.
"He promises not to say anything, especially not to Dippet. Filius was rather vexed with the fact that the hotblooded witch and I tangoed, and I thought it best to let him know that I'm here on an assignment. He's of small stature, but that wand of his… legendary. I want all my parts working properly, especially that part."
"Why?" Albus hissed.
"Why do I want all my parts working?" Malcolm not-so-innocently questioned.
Yes, the smug bastard… charmer… was leering at him!
"No, why did you tell him?"
"Because he and Galatea are dating, Albus. She didn't tell me when we danced even after I explained to her that I was using her as a faux girlfriend. Good thing I never went into the teaching profession, since at Hogwarts, you can't date members of the same or the opposite sex! Sluggie must have a booming business among the staff for his anti-chafing skin lotion." Malcolm stopped walking and smirked at Albus' obvious embarrassment.
"Oh, I forget, Anti-Chafe charms are so much more discreet," teased Malcolm. "You don't look happy. You want to pop into my mind for a bit? Might cheer you up. I can think of some exceedingly naughty thoughts. I'm thinking of a long massage in my chambers… lots of lotion and a great deal of stroking…There's candlelight, soft music and you are just so deliciously spent that you're falling asleep without the benefit of a Phoenix lullaby."
"Malcolm, I do have to work with them," Albus softly reminded him.
"That you do, Albus, and now they're busy cackling like a bunch of hens over your mysterious inamorato, a dangerous scoundrel who has quite swept you off your feet and into a passionate relationship. You'll be the talk of the staff room for the next month or so," Malcolm assured him. "Well, you already are, I know, but this time, you'll have the whiff of scandal."
"You're incorrigible," vainly protested Albus, who wasn't sure if he was amused or horrified or quite possibly both by his companion.
"You like it," Malcolm assured him. He handed Albus a glass of champagne.
"I think I'm drinking too much tonight," Albus admitted. "My anxiety…."
"I've actually taken the liberty of removing a great deal of the alcohol from your drinks. I want you relaxed and mellow, not polluted and paralytic. Young Mr. Weasley invited us to go dancing at the club, but I think it's best if we turn him down. I don't want you to develop another headache from their loud music. Plus those dancing parties are the proverbial sausage fest. I don't want some handsome bloke catching your eye and you deciding that you'd fancy shagging him instead of me. You're just so bloody scrummy, I'd probably end up dueling."
"No, it would never happen," protested Albus. Then trifle too eagerly, he blurted, "When can we leave?"
Malcolm dimpled and winked at him. The smile and the twinkle in Malcolm's blue eyes made Albus feel very warm inside.
"Albus, we just got here," Malcolm gently reminded him. "It would be terribly vulgar if we just ran out though I'm chuffed to buggery about your enthusiasm."
"Malcolm, I'm no good in social situations. I get so ruddy tense that I say the wrong things. I made my appearance, can't we just go?" pleaded Albus.
His earnestness earned a vigorous shake of Malcolm's head.
"Stuff and nonsense! You're talking rubbish, Albus. Relax and we'll work the room. I'll make suggestions on what to say to the various people, and you do all the talking. They won't notice me, as they'll be too enthralled that you're talking to them," explained Malcolm. He pointed out a green clad fellow. "For example, that's Cédrick Diggory over there. He just had his first son, Amos, after six girls. He's over the moon because his Family Tree has a branch now. Besides congratulations, apologies are required as Fawkes burst out into song during the middle of his violin solo on 'Ode to Joy'."
After much prodding from Macolm, Albus introduced himself to a rather stunned Cédrick. The violinist seemed stunned that Albus apologized for his familiar's bad behavior and the violinist insisted that Albus need not feel bad.
"No, I must be obstinate on my need to apologize," Albus insisted.
Fawkes, get over here immediately! You need to apologize for interrupting "Ode to Joy".
When Fawkes flew to his mage's shoulder where he melodiously chirped his sincerest apology to the gobsmacked Diggory, discussion in the room stopped. The extremely embarrassed Phoenix's head bobbled as he realized that he had been a conversation stopper and he quickly placed his head under his wing.
"There, there," Albus soothed his familiar. "He's quite embarrassed as he let his emotions overwhelm him into singing along. Fawkes enjoys music so much and regretfully, I don't allow him many chances to experience the joys of music firsthand. Ah, music. A magic beyond all we do at Hogwarts!"
"That's understandable, I'm very glad that Fawkes enjoyed the concert. Perhaps, he'll be at our next one?" Diggory eagerly questioned.
"We'll see," Albus quibbled, not wanting to give a definite answer. He wanted to survive tonight first before deciding on a repeat.
"That wasn't so bad, was it?" Macolm questioned after Albus finished working the room. "I believe that you've got an admirer, that man at the back keeps giving you the glad-eye. Watch out for him, Albus, he's gay as a goose!"
"Hush," protested Albus. "But you're quite correct. It wasn't that painful. In fact, some of the conversations were rather interesting."
"Now, to work a room, you just need to remember one thing about each person. You asked, and they were amazed and honored that you knew about their granddaughter, their play, their broken C string… That's why you need to read the society pages, Albus. You think it is all rubbish, and it is, but if you ever desire assistance from Reggie Griffiths at the Ministry, he'll remember commiserating with you about his broken C string during his last solo. He's quite passionate about the viola and finds these concerts a great stress reliever," explained the courtesan. "It makes people comfortable when you express an interest in their hobbies."
"Like ten-pin bowling?" Albus softly questioned.
"Actually, that did fascinate me," Malcolm teased. "Throwing a rubber ball down an alleyway to knock over wooden pins? Amazing!"
Albus looked around the room and realized that there were only a few hearty souls left. Even the Hogwarts trio had left, and he briefly remembered Galatea waving at him.
"Where is everyone?" questioned Albus.
"Went home, slipped into their jimjams and are now in bed," explained Malcolm. "Shall we say goodnight to our host? And then I'll take you home and put you to bed?"
There must be a whole flock of butterflies trapped in his belly; that was the only way for Albus to describe his feeling of delighted anticipation.
"Lets," Albus quickly answered.
Fawkes settled on his perch in Malcolm's living room, and deliberately put his head under his wing. He still had a marvelous view of the settee where the two men were sitting, but Albus believed that his familiar was settling down to sleep. The two men were softly talking and Malcolm was being quite reassuring to his frightened nestling of a mage. The older mage tenderly explained what would happen and how Albus was to inform him if anything made him uncomfortable. Promises exchanged, they then energetically began to snog.
Everything was going splendidly, and a bighearted Fawkes was only slightly saddened that his mage didn't wish to share this new experience with him. The Phoenix was quite compassionate at heart and he truly understood that his beloved Albus was such a wounded, reserved soul that he needed this delicate matter to be handled in a private, discreet manner. In time, Fawkes was sure that Albus would handle this situation in a properly proud Phoenixy manner.
The kissing continued for some time and Fawkes was sorely tempted to intervene to hurry them along. Albus had been waiting for decades for this experience, why this unnecessary delay? But his intercession, no matter how helpful, would no doubt humiliate Albus. He needed the confidence to spread his wings and fly, and sometimes, it took a nestling a little longer for his first flight.
A smiling Malcolm stood and held out his hand for a blushing Albus who clasped it. Then Malcolm guided Albus to the bathing room where there was much genuine laughter from both men when Albus realized that he had left his change of clothes at Hogwarts. Fawkes decided that the clothing could wait as he would return to Hogwarts for it only after the consummation occurred.
Fortunately, only Albus went into the bathing room as it appeared that both men remembered Fawkes' strong insistence that mating in water was only for fishes. Not men! How silly would that be? His mage changed out of his clothes and slipped into the bubbling water where he had been instructed to just relax.
"You know Fawkes, you're going to get a crick in your neck," Malcolm informed Fawkes when he returned to his sitting room. "I know you're awake."
Fawkes didn't respond, as he was sleeping! SLEEPING! If Phoenix could snore, he would have!
"I'll take very good care of him," the courtesan quietly assured Fawkes. "First, I'll massage him and get rid of all that tension he's been holding inside. Then if he feels safe, we'll go from there. I won't do anything that he doesn't feel completely comfortable about. I'm rather fond of my face and I don't want an overly protective Phoenix streaking into my bedroom and wrecking havoc on my features."
That did it, Fawkes decided to stop shamming that he was sleeping and he hissed his displeasure at Malcolm. ATTACKING his Mage's Lover? Did the man think he was a CRUP? For good measure, he extended his razor sharp talons one by one, and a nervous Malcolm swallowed.
"Oy!" Malcolm whispered. "Ok, mental note to self, do not ever tease a possessive Phoenix."
He's my mage. Hurt him, Glib Man, and what remains of you will wish you didn't.
"Fawkes, I know you're quite worried about this. I'm not Gorilla Man; I don't believe sex should be a matter of dominance and supremacy. I assure you that I will make it a magnificent experience for Albus. He's really quite… sweet… and I can understand why you're so overly protective of him. You two have a very close bond," the courtesan said.
The Phoenix nodded once.
"What can you tell me about Gorilla Man? Albus deeply loved him, I can tell. Did he love Albus? At all? Was it just youthful stupidity that caused him to hurt Albus or was it something darker? I need to know, Fawkes."
The courtesan sounded earnest and Fawkes decided that he should trust him with such sensitive information. It was for Albus, afterall.
Albus wasn't my mage when they met. But from what I know from Albus' memories, it was not youthful stupidity, it was something far darker. He was unbelievably Beautiful and he was Evil Incarnate.
Fawkes, it wasn't… Grindelwald?
Fawkes thought not a word.
Bloody hell! Those scars that Albus has? Grindelwald attempted to castrate him! I thought that those wounds were too personal… I should have realized then!
He was unsuccessful.
Don't fret, Fawkes. I'll be very gentle with Albus. Will you be joining us in my bedroom?
No, Fawkes sadly admitted. He doesn't want me there. So I'll pretend to be asleep. But… but… but… I'm his familiar! I need to be close in case I am required to rescue him from you!
I'll leave my door open, Fawkes, and you should be able to see into the room to keep an eye on us. When an exhausted Albus is blissfully sleeping, I don't foresee any problems if you decided to perch on my headboard. After Albus is deeply asleep, you understand.
Thank you.
Errr… Fawkes. Your mage is rather innocent, but you DO know what happens between men, right? I don't have to worry about you attacking me during the… pinnacle? There may be some loud exclamations… It won't be pain causing him to cry out, Fawkes.
I have shared Albus' dreams since we bonded as Mage and Familiar. Yes, I know how it is done between men. I am there when he self-mates, and I know the sounds he makes.
This has certainly been a very educational weekend for me, Fawkes. I never realized that Phoenixes were…
Sentient? Fawkes stated in an amused, superior tone.
So involved in their mages' sex lives. I'm quite honored that you decided to share that information with me.
Fawkes regally nodded his head once in acknowledgement and then tucked his head beneath his wing. Yes, if he moved over to the right, he had a perfect view of Malcolm's bed.
His mage took far too long to dry himself off and Fawkes was nearly vibrating in his excitement. Truly, Malcolm was far more patient that Fawkes would be if he was a wizard. He was aching for Albus!
At last, Albus exited the bathing room, and Malcolm held out his hand. For a moment, Fawkes just KNEW that Albus was about to turn tail and fly from the room, but then Albus glanced upon him for reassurance. Fortunately, the Phoenix still had his head tucked underneath his wing, so he appeared asleep.
I need to be a bold mage worthy of such a magnificent Familiar.
Albus then walked into Malcolm's bedroom and took off his robe. Instinctively, he tensed, waiting for a cruel comment or three. He had never been particularly handsome and now there were those horrid purple scars.
Instead, there was a sharp intake of breath as Malcolm seemed to appreciate the tasty Albus. Why shouldn't he? Fawkes' mage was lean and trim and Fawkes had often overheard risqué comments regarding Albus' physique.
Malcolm guided him to the bed where Albus was instructed to lie face down on the bed. He was then covered with warm, moist towels. They were so soothing to his tense muscles that Fawkes nearly sighed in shared relief before he sternly reminded himself that he was sleeping.
Malcolm's hands were quite deft while they kneaded and massaged Albus' tight muscles, easing taunt muscles into relaxing.
Perhaps relaxing wasn't the correct word, Fawkes thought. While Albus' muscular tension was easing, there was a noticeable increase in another type of tension for Albus. His mage was becoming more and more aware of Malcolm, not just the feel of Malcolm's hands on his body but the smell of his cologne and his melodious voice. It was a warm feeling that was filling Albus and Malcolm seemed completely unaffected, as his hands continued to thoroughly caress, massage and rubdown Albus.
Was this how it was among men? Phoenixes lived in the here and now, and the delaying pleasure was unheard of. If Fawkes had been Albus, he would have mated with Malcolm a dozen or so times already, but no… Malcolm was deliberately drawing out the seduction.
"Turn over," whispered Malcolm, and Albus did so, shivering in anticipation, wanting so very much for Malcolm to touch him there.
Yet Malcolm didn't. No, instead he continued to unwrap small bits of Albus, massage them thoroughly and then recover them with the warm, moist heat. How soothing it was, as Albus' muscles finally unknotted from all his internal stress, yet… how not calming the massage was. Albus was completely focused on his increasing desire and still Malcolm continued his slow, methodical massage.
At last, only THAT spot was untouched. Malcolm's hands carefully uncovered it, and then ceased.
"Shall I?" Malcolm intensely whispered.
Albus nodded his head.
"Please say it," whispered the courtesan. "I want to hear you say it."
"Please," pleaded Albus.
Then Malcolm leaned over and with his mouth… oh. That unbelievable warmth inside Albus was flooding through Fawkes and he felt everything Albus did. When Albus soared in flight, Fawkes was so in tune with his mage, that he Burned.
Early.
A whole week early.
How embarrassing, Fawkes the chick thought, as he struggled to maintain his perch. But an early, uncontrolled Burn was not the final humiliation for Fawkes, It was falling off the perch and landing in the still hot ashes of his former glorious scarlet and gold feathers.
Eeep.
Albus? Fawkes, while he really didn't wish to interrupt Albus and his lover, Fawkes was rather defenseless at the moment.
No answer.
Fawkes sniffed his disgust, and he sniffed again, realizing that something smelled awfully familiar in Malcolm's rooms.
No. No, no! It couldn't be! It simply couldn't be.
Malcolm? Pleaded Fawkes.
The flightless Fawkes smelled Cat.
