The stables were adjacent to the house, the long, narrow building a magnificent add-on to the already significant amount of land that Lucius owned. I was saddened by the loss of Aries, a true friend, and only wished to catch a glimpse of this newhorse, before I reauctioned it. The switch was warm and buttery between my hands, mostly because I had been clinging onto it all morning.


The stalls smelled always of hay and never of dung, which can be a refreshingly organic and clean scent compared to the sometimes stiflingly perfumed odor of my home. I took a deep breath, watching my exhalation ensnare itself in the bitterly cold draft, and then twine upwards into the chalky sky. There was no sun out that day, and I frowned, thinking it was going to snow.


One of the attendants whom all seemed faceless and nameless to me, immediately crept up to my side. Your new horse, madam?, he asked me, and I surprised myself by taking a long observation of his face.


He was nothing but a boy,creamy freckled skin melting into the smooth, hay coloured hair. He had a smallish nose and bright, perceptive eyes; perhaps too watchful and observant for my liking. His teeth had a small gap in the front, lost in a fight, most likely. I put a gloved finger beneath his chin and tilted his face up to me, watching his nose flare and breath falter in dread and fear. I laughed.


Yes. But only to look. I don't know yet if I wish to ride, I said firmly, gesturing towards my designated stall. He nodded and trotted over, a bit bandy legged.


He pulled the reigns, and the horse emerged from the liquid darkness that it seemed to scatter. Lucius was right, it was a magnificent animal. The muscles were massive and rippled beneath the sheathe of its hide. They flexed with every single movment, one quivering mass of absolute jetty steel. I ran my finger over its flank, and it glared at me, eyes strangely onyx in a way that reminded me much of the Professor's. It's hair was braided, but it was thick and pooled in the dent on its neck. Lucius loved to brand his horses, and I suppose it was a way of reinforcing his masculine ego.


The horse and I stared eye to eye for several seconds, though I knew it was wiser not to. This animal was skittish and dangerous, and I had forseen that it would never quite accustom to me. But it had its uses, for instance, where Aries was weak and aged, this horse was supple and strong. I would be able to train it into shape; I had noticed that some of Luicius' ruthlessness had seeped into me. I was not yet certain whether this was good or bad.


Would the Professor like to ride as well, madam?, the boy asked me, still tethering the beast.


I don't know. Why do you ask?, I demanded of him, afraid that the Professor's connotations with myself were beginning to spur household gossip .


The master thought that the Professor would like to ride today is all. He did request a horse, the boy replied, shrugging.


I shall see. Wait with the animal, for even if he doesn't, I would still like to, I instructed, wondering whether or not the child would be strong enough to keep holding onto the leather strap like that. It looked as if he were leeching every atom of strength within him just to keep his heels dug into the ground.


I entered the house recklessly, boots treading mud everywhere. At the moment, I could have cared less for Lucius and his precious rugs. The Professor was no longer seated in the dining hall, so I had surmised that he had instead skulked into the library. I was correct, his unmistakably black hair was turned to me, and one of our more virtuous books was in hand. He turned the pages in a langorously elegant manner that still reeked of the desire to learn. The man was absolutely erudite, and be trained in no other manner.


, my voice rang clearly and loudly, and he dropped the book in surprise. He rose, his face a mixture of amusment and annoyance.


, he said simply, inclining his head in what I took to be a gesture of respect. I gave him a brief smile, and vainly tried to see what he was reading, for he had wisely hid the book behind him.


I was simply wondering if you would like to ride today. The stable boy said you had requested a horse, I said, almost surrepitiously. He looked bemused, then considerate.


Actually, yes. I find my eyes tend to warp themselves after too much of reading, he said quietly.


Much like John Milton, I replied thoughtlessly, and he gave me an intense, dissecting stare.


The muggle who made himself blind from reading too much, his voice was bordering upon venemous, and I was wondering how to extract myself from this sticky situation.


Only England's greatest poet, I said bravely, and knew not from which spring I had drawn this sudden courage. He surprised me, as he had always tended to do, by nodding very seriously.


Then I am complimented, he said finally. His lips formed an almost rueful smile. How do you like your horse?, he asked again, placing the book down, face down so the ornamentally gilded letters glittered in the firelight. Alice In Wonderland, and I almost giggled. The wonders never ceased.


It is grand. Too powerful, perhaps, one of those creatures that we can never seem to keep on. I suppose Lucius has purchased her for her beauty, but in the end, she'll prove to be far more intelligent than the lot of us, I said regretfully.


Much like the woman who rides her, then, he added cryptically, eyes boring into mine with a frusturatingly opaque vehemence.


I gestured towards the door in a shall-we? kind of way, and he followed. I wanted to test his mettle, and I coyly slipped my arm into the crook of his. I felt him stiffen, but not resist, and was pleased with the rather elegant pairing we made. He was thin, almost to the point of emaciation, but pure muscle rippled when I had touched him.


We made our way slowly across the land, wordlessly observing the dense and chilly fog that cloaked us. The surrounding hills and valleys were all but hidden completely from us, and now and then a tree secretly outstretched its limbs, reminding us of their presence.


This land has a striking resemblance to the Forbidden Forest, does it not?, he asked noncomittally. I looked around, and in an eerie way, the trees did spiral around the house in conspiritorial nests and there were beasts unseen, but heard that flocked there. Even the fog, and the way it swallowed everything, reminded me of my past days huddling around the window, trying to guess what lurked within the Forest. Everything grew hushed and chilly, and I felt like scolding the Professor.


Please, Professor. If that was meant as some silly comment to frighten me..., I laughed. He held a (gloved) finger to his lips, then his eyes met my own.


I believe we can do away with formalties. After all, I am no longer your professor, he said in a weary fashion. Personally, I found Professor perfectly suiting and perfectly appropriate. Anything else would have lessened my fantasy and my evil persona that I had conjured of him in my head.


Perhaps Severus?, he suggested, cocking an eyebrow. The bitter chocolate in the way he said his name forced me to shudder underneath my thick cloak.


Severus it is. And what would you insist upon calling me? Certainly not Miss Bavarde, and I will not permit you to go spouting off to me either, I said stoutly. He gave a curt, but appreciative nod.


Lourdes has always been rather a favourite of mine, he responded at length. If my hopes were that this was some kind of compliment, they were soon dashed. And now I will become used to applying it to a disappointment, he added contemptuously.


Actually, Professor does suit you, you dictorial bastard, I snarled, and hurried ahead of him, heat from my anger and from his bitterness flushing my face.


The man knew how to thoroughly tangle me. Once my defenses were lowered, and I had already had him reconfigured for something resembling decency, he would charge at me again, and deliver a fatal blow.


The stables were opened and being aired, and my horse was still there, though significantly subdued. TheProfessor approached it with a friendly, non threatening air, and gave it an impossibly sensual stroke along the neck with his finger. I imagine that if he ever petted me in a similar fashion, I would simply pur.


I mounted my animal, and waited for the the Professor to follow suit. He was adept and quick as a spider, swinging one lean, black swathed leg over the ironically white horse, and pull the rest of himself up without losing his breath.


I exited ahead of him, not caring whether or not he would follow my personal trail. I had never strayed from the hoof-beaten course, and never imagined that I would. The stable boy swung the gate open, and I nodded at him; the Professor followed me, obviously thinking that it was a public path.


I'm sorry, Professor, but this is my own trail, I called out, tilting my head slightly so the words would not be completely engulfed by the wind and fog. He eased his horse next to mine, animal's eyes locked together in an oddly one sided stare.


And I cannot ride upon it?, he challenged. I shrugged, urging my horse with a squeeze of my thighs, noting the crop was still between my hands. I was not physically cruel to my animals, as Lucius tended to be, and found that my own animals were tirelessly faithful to me.


As you wish. But it is no fault of mine if you become lost, I shot back, as a way of meeting his defiance. He laughed.


Ido believe I have roamed these lands for many years before you were ungracefully dropped here, he said quietly, still chuckling. A combination of a bellow of rage and anger, as well as a hiss of impatience escaped from me.


He was a magnificent rider, visually arresting in his endlessly black garb. He looked aristocratic and imminently dangerous, but so gravitating. The animal knew better than to toy with him, and I found my own horse also seemed a bit cowed in his presence.


A very worthy Arabian Mare, is she not?, he asked me, voice undisturbed by the dips and jerks of his horse.


Quite. I still don't fancy her, I replied sullenly. Although I had long since stopped riding Aries for fear of immediate death, I had preferred his compainionable wheezes to the predatory sounds that were emitted from this one.


What are you going to name her?, he asked, Out of maudlin curiosity.


I haven't any idea. I think awhile before I make the decision, I admitted truthfully. This illicited another short laugh.


A true Slytherin, he amended.


How so?, I was afraid this was another barbed compliment.


You take your time, are not rash like some. I am glad that Gryfindor big headedness has not inflated your own, he said.


I thought you said that you didn't remember me, Iaccused.


I don't. At least not well. But I glean from the woman before me, this was his time for truthtelling.


And as for the statement you remember all your students?, I pursued.


Oh, I suppose a few have been dropped from my memory. But, I do indeed recall distinct traits and personalities of most of the individuals placed in my care. Don't ask about Harry Potter, he must have read my mind, for the syllables of my next question were about to be poured from my lips. I looked dumbfounded, for he sneered, I am observant, not a mind reader.


Why are you here?, my question caught him off guard, and his legs tensed so in the stirrups that the horse halted.


I know better to discuss that with you, he said finally.


Why? Because you honestly think I would go run tattling to my husband? For all your observation, you're a very near sighted man, Professor, I snapped. He really could be pig headed at times.


I have full confidence in you, as you must have in me. There are reasons for your safety as well. I am not an entirely selfish fellow, Bavarde, he said, reaching for my arm. I pulled away from him, pushing my horse forward. I was uncomfortable with his implications, as well as his sudden movement of being my protector again.


I think I shall go back in, I said simply, an overpowering fatigue filling me. The sky was marble grey, with lines of blackened, stormy sky.


The Professor's hands had snaked towards my shouldes, and he roughly jerked me to face him; my eyes had widened, and he gave me a very grim smile. His head leaned in towards my own, and I closed my eyes, not stopping him, but not urging him.


His cold lips met my own, and I felt a miserable stab of fear and craving in my belly. We sat there, lips in the most chaste of embraces. His hands did not stray, and his lips did not open.


He pulled away, and pushed hair that had fallen into my eyes.


You can't help me, I blurted out, and the horse pawed in boredom, and I suppose from nervousness, for a thunderclap echoed in the sonorous clearing.


Let me, he said with such firmness, I almost believed that he could, and that we would go sweeping off gallantly into the sunset.


But I did not love him, and I hardly under the impression that he loved me.


You can't, I repeated, staring, for once, into his eyes. He looked angry, then hopeless, a giant man-child who had seen too much.


His hands hadn't left my shoulders, but my horse was already trotting in the other direction, and they tore away from me, his fingers curled around my arms like dusty bones of a long dead embracer.













A/N: Thank you to the anonymous reviewer who has graciously informed me that the correct term of an Arabian female horse is Arabian Mare. And notes to any equine appreciators, it is quite evident from my avoidant writing that I know horseshit (pun intended) about the gallant and noble sport of horse riding. In my mind, its a balletic and acrobatic, and can be at times erotic. In simpler terms, for freaks like myself, horsebackriding can make for some very sexy foreplay.