Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Elrin Danse is my own creation.
Chapter Seven
The Professor in the Library with the CandlestickThe day finally came when the first potion was ready. Neither of them knew whether it would be suitable for a werewolf, but the signs in the text looked promising.
Lupin agreed to test it as he knew Severus was the greatest Potion Maker of his time, and trusted his judgement and his ethics although he had warned him that to think it only as a potential cure, but his enthusiasm was evident. When she arrived in his office, they were both there. The Potion Maker himself had little time for the werewolf but they were both burying their animosity in their shared eagerness. Remus grinned as Elrin strode up to the pair of them, both of them looking like mischievous schoolboys.
"You're just in time!" he said, as he held up a smoking goblet and glanced at Severus, who hovered over him. "Well, here goes."
She held her breath as he drank it. As were many serious potions, it tasted appalling, and he made a face and half retched.
"Heavens, Severus, can't you make something drinkable?" he gasped, draining his goblet. "Just as well you never went into the wine making business." Severus' eyes glittered, carefully watching his face.
They chatted for a few minutes, and then just as Remus was about to leave, Severus asked him to come towards the light, and peered into his eyes with a magnifying glass.
"How do you feel?" he asked sharply.
"Fine, actually, fine. Very good. Better than I have in a long time. Is everything all right?
"It is early yet, however." Severus hesitated.
"What then? Tell me."
"There appears to be a degree of success." For the Potions Master this was a statement of gigantic proportions.
"Do you mean that..?"
"It is indicative that it is so. Your pupils have altered shape. It is impossible to say with certainty at the moment, but it certainly gives the impression of being affirmative."
"Don't beat about the bush, Severus, tell me straight!" laughed Remus.
Severus' face wore his usual impassivity, but something shone out of it – something she had never seen before, and was struck by the hidden intensity of it. It had be a terrific coup for him to accomplish what no others had been able to do, to advance the cause of healing in such a difficult area. First time trial too. Again, she felt pride, but did not thrust it back where it came from this time because she had been part of the team, and instead glowed with him. In its place of his unusual glare, there was a new and indecipherable expression on his face as he glanced across at her. She imagined, that he would soon be finding Dumbledore to tell him the good news, and would tell him calmly and with sobriety, but with excitement in his heart. Was there something else in his eyes? A triumph that was crumbling his defences and that she could walk through them.
After that, they continued work on the parchments with a little more hope, huddling by the fire in the cold chambers. She was becoming a little more fluent and there was more confidence about her, and he meticulously wrote down every word that she translated.
"Thus we see succulent heart of the cobra lily, an inch of hyssop, and root of olibanum.
Now think not to find them in the forest or on the mountain; but in beds of purple,
No fire & blood in this my incense of resinous woods & gums; and there is no blood therein.
"No blood?" She could hear him mutter, surprised.
Taking no notice of him, she continued with her soft voice.
"The Perfect and the Perfect are one Perfect and not two,'
Yet there are masked ones: An evil shall arise, and bring fresh fever from the deeps."
She could not resist opening her eyes at this to see his reaction, but he had his eyes glued to her.
"Continue," he snapped writing feverishly, "we have no time to waste!"
"There is the flame that burns in every heart of Serpent, and in the core of every StarYet therefore in this knowledge is the knowledge of life and death."
And more came faster this time, more sure.
"Creeping horehound, chopped crocodile ears, venom of the hog moth is sufficient,
Vinpocetine with Ginseng and yet three times seven nipple of bat,
Bind nothing! Let them come through the first ordeal, & it will be as silver.
"There is an addition, added by a hand other than the writer," she said to him after he had finished writing.
"When it is not practiced, it turns out to be poison."
"What that bit means," he said afterwards in his analysis later, " is that in the precise art of potion making, that if you do not get your sums right, you mess up."
It was some time after that that he went on a special hunt for Vinpocetine and a few other ingredients in Hogsmeade. The fact that he did not appear at supper, nor at any of the mealtimes the next day did not alarm her, but as the hours wore on into the next day, she was beginning to be concerned. Lupin had covered his classes for him gleefully, to the delight of most of the students. There was no owl from him, no word, nothing. Her heart rate told her that something was not right. He would not leave his class neglected, and he would certainly have let her know what to do with the constantly simmering cauldron. Should she add more liquid to it? She panicked at the idea of being responsible for such an important potion – the second in the parchment. It had become eerie velvet green. Should it be that colour?
What the hell am I supposed to do with this? What does he think he's doing? It's all very well him gallivanting around, leaving her to stir the pot. Success had obviously gone to his head. Was thinking of her as his personal servant now. Someone would need to go and find him..
Flinging down her spatula, she stormed off to see Albus.
"Jellybaby," she growled at the statue and stomped up the stairs.
When she had spoke her concern to him, Albus looked at her solemnly, an enormous old tome lying out on his desk in front of him. Fawkes was asleep on his perch, head hidden under a wing, snoring.
"I am sure he will be with us soon. There is no need for concern."
"He may have had an accident or something. I am concerned for the work."
"Surely, surely," he said soothingly, which annoyed her more.
"You don't seem to be taking this very seriously Headmaster!"
"Oh, I assure you my dear, I take this very seriously indeed," and calmly placed a book back on the shelf.
As he did so, she had a jolt of memory.
No, that was crazy. She had got used to everything. Not that. Not what she was thinking, surely?
She had not realized that she was staring at the old man, motionless.
It was a memory, a fiction.
Albus watched her with a mixed look of compassion and sadness.
"Is he –"she began, feeling absurd, but compelled to continue. "Is he –"?
How could she get it out? It seemed like a ridiculous word.
"I realize that my understanding may be completely faulty. "
Albus gazed through his spectacles. "I do not," he said, "believe that your understanding is faulty at all."
"He is – spying for you." Now she had it out in the open, it seemed still more preposterous. Yet the comfortableness of the school had lulled her into a false sense of security. Voldemort had seemed like a caricature of a villain, far away.
Very far away. What did she think they were doing the Potions for? Why did she think he was so paranoid that he had tested her so harshly? Crazy, crazy. What was she playing at?
"That is correct, my dear. Would you like to sit down?"
No, she would not like to sit down"No thank you, Albus." Then immediately sat down.
"It's a double bluff – or is it a double, double bluff? I can never get these things right," she babbled, still in shock.
Complaining like mad about him all this time and he could be tortured and maimed or even – dead.
"Is there no way we can help?" she appealed to the Head.
"No, my dear, we wait. I am aware that it is not easy."
Shouldn't Albus be out there waving his wand or whatever else he did?She couldn't understand his passivity.
Oh, Severus.
She wanted him. There. Now. In front of her: irritable, maddening and volatile, she didn't care. While secretively playing some kind of hero risking body and maybe soul, everyone thought he was a monster. She was never into hero-worship, they bored her, but perhaps that was because they were fictional ones, with no substance to them, fake screen heroes, not real life blood ones – with vulnerable flesh and blood, that could be torn apart.
How could I have been so dense? She had known this all along, and yet must have cut herself off from knowing. Not Madam Danse, but Madam Dense.
"Albus, Is he - repaying his debts or is it that he cares about everything here?" she asked him. Not that it mattered at that moment, but her mind sought it.
"I am afraid you will have to ask him that, when he returns. For the time being, it is important that you continue to look after the potions in your care."
"I don't know what he wants me to do. I'm at my wits end."
"Then just do what you can. He will, I believe, not be much longer."
"How can you tell?"
He looked at her over his glasses, eyebrows raised.
"I have my ways. Go back to the potions, Elrin, look after yourself, and wait. I have seen this many times."
"How many times?"
"Lots of times." He said, and got up, leading her to the door. "And do not punish yourself for not realizing."
"Tell me one thing, Elrin," he said, pausing, "Those – books – of our world that you have read. Are they complete?"
"No, I'm sorry Albus. They are not."
"Ah." He said, as he watched her go down the steps.
Two evenings later as she stepped into Severus' office, she found him there by the fireside, slouched and dispirited, clutching a glass of scotch in his hand. Realizing she had entered, he turned his face towards the fire.
"Are you hurt?" she cried, rushing to him, kneeling down by his side.
He looked at her in surprise, then sneered and continued to gaze at the flames.
"No, I am not, more is the pity," he muttered. This took her aback
"Severus, I know what you do. I have been to speak to Albus."
"Oh, you do, do you? I suppose you think it's 'romantic?' There was a nasty tone in his voice, and he threw the alcohol down his throat.
"No, I think it is incredibly dangerous. But I do think…."
"I do not care what you think, madam," Then paused: Elrin didn't know whether to stay with him or go.
"My presence was useless. I could do nothing."
She waited, and as she suspected he might, he continued speaking.
"Young girl, not even seventeen." Fragments of what happened came out slowly, as if ripping them from his own flesh.
"Four of them, four." He stared at the empty glass.
"A Muggle," he sighed. "A Muggle no more. Not anything now. " He shifted in the chair. "Although the way Voldemort is going, one Muggle is not going to be very much in the greater scheme of things," he said bitterly.
"You cared enough for one," she said, daring to put a hand on his arm that he swiftly moved as if he had been scorched.
"How do you think that makes me feel? Heroic?" he shouted. She so wanted to put her arms around him, or stroke his hair. Even if she had dared, she thought, it was unlikely that it would have helped.
"Do not condescend to touch my arm," he snarled, pulling up his sleeve to shove the sign of the Dark Mark upon it into her face. It was freshly active like a black-blooded scorch mark. That is what is there. That is what I have been, that is what I have always been. You do not want to be near it.'
If he hadn't been angry, he would have cried, she thought, sensing his tense body beside her. The ache to hold him was almost overwhelming, but knew she had to hold back.
"You aren't any longer. You're making a difference," she said quietly.
"Well, he said, getting up abruptly, "It certainly doesn't feel like it."
Why does he have this affect on me?She watched him walk over to the main cauldron, turning to her. "Wait until all these potions are made. Then we will see what Voldemort can inflict after that."
She hesitated, dreading telling him, waiting for the fury. "I was desperately worried about the one you left me with. It's gone a sort of livid green."
"That's fine. That's how it should be," he said and stirred it with a frightening calm.
Relief swept through her whole body.
It was some days later that Hermoine rushed up to her while she was out walking in the windswept grounds down by the lake, her cloak flying out behind her.
"Madam Danse," she said breathless, bending down to recover.
"Catch your breath first Hermoine – that's your name isn't it?" she said, thinking she had better check. Almost the same height as she was.
Neat, authoritative, clear face.
The girl nodded.
"The Headmaster sent me to tell you. There's been – an attack."
"Attack?" she cried, starting to run towards the nearest door.
"Professor Lupin - student," she gasped.
It can't have failed. It can't have. All the signs were right. Severus -She blotted out her fears as she rushed up the stairs.
If one of those damned stairs take me into the wrong place...
As she burst into the hospital wing, Poppy came towards her, her official matron manner in place. There was a bed curtained behind her.
"Now there is no need to be concerned." And she held up her hand for order and calm. "Severus is fine."
"Severus?" she said, shocked.
"Who did you think it was?"
"A student."
"It might very well have been if he had not subdued Remus. However, he has had a nasty gash on his leg. He will be fine. He will probably be marching, or hobbling out of here before the day is up. Poppy relaxed her manner a little to say "I will not be able to keep him here!"
It took a while for Elrin to adjust. Everything seemed turned on its head.
"Can I see him?"
"I think not, at the moment," she said carefully. "Later perhaps if he has not crawled out of his bed into the dungeons."
The ward looked empty with its long polished wooden floor, and the huge paintings moving quietly in their shadows, gave her the creeps.
She tried more persuasion, but Poppy was not to be moved.
"What about Remus?" she asked.
"Albus has taken care of him. He is out of danger, and not a danger to anyone else at the moment."
"And who was the student?"
" Draco Malfoy. He was pretty shaken by it, I can tell you, but he was unharmed. Now, may I get on with my patient?"
"Yes," she said, crestfallen, "Of course."
Things were painful for a while. Severus' humiliation at the failure of the potion was evident as he roared around the school, and the students cleared a path for him before he was anywhere near them, and many more trembled in his classes. She was cross with him for taking it out on the children and said so. He just sneered at her and made withering comments. She had been horrified by the possibilities of what might have happened, and searched and searched her head for answers to the failure of the potion. It had appeared to work; then did not. What could possibly have gone wrong? She went to see Fawkes, but he gave her the obscure advice to connect what she would not normally have connected, and not to look at the obvious.
A riddle. Great. Just what they needed.
Severus had the idea that if they went further into the parchment, that they might discover what was wrong. She disagreed, believing that the answer lay in the first one. However, he had his way, and they tackled further into the text in their customary places, and so eager was he that they sat late in the evening, one weekend.
He handed her another parchment, smaller than the other, and after a short time, she began to speak, he writing carefully.
"I who am all pleasure and serpent green, and drunkenness of the innermost sense, desire you.
And I charge you earnestly to come before me in a single robe,
Put on the wings, and arouse the coiled splendour within me: come unto me!"
Again she felt the urge of the text, and was sure that it showed in her body and her face. She dare not open her eyes to meet his.
Too powerful, too powerful.
Then blushed brick red as further words came slipping through and hesitated.
His command broke frostily through to her.
"Tell me. Do not inhibit it. It is not your business to do so."
Was he always watching?Her hands lightly touched the parchment, speaking slowly.
"So she answered him, bending down, a lambent flame of blue, all-touching, all penetrant
Her lovely hands upon the black earth, & her lithe body arched for love,
And her soft feet not hurting the little flowers."
She managed to control herself, her hands clutched tight in front of her.
Think of Quidditch.
She swallowed, and concentrated on giving the next piece, her voice low in the quiet room.
"A woman shall awake the lust & worship of the Snake and let he be the adorant,
She is uplifted in thine heart; and the kisses of the stars rain hard upon thy body.
Bear up in thy rapture for thou art the Lord of the Potion of Power."
She was glad to hear him scratching away, so that his eyes would not be upon her.
Fortunately the session was shorter than most. Whether the manuscript had affected him, she could not tell because she could not look at him. He snapped his notebook closed and marched over to his potions table.
Was he reading what she was reading? Obviously not. Not that it wasn't crazy. A thousand years old document. She was the crazy one.
He gave her the coffee, then rummaged around, distracted, irritated, and eventually slammed something down on his desk.
"This parchment doesn't seem to be helping," he snapped to no one in particular. "Damn it. It's giving me no clues whatsoever."
Appealing for inspiration into the coffee held in her hands didn't help. There appeared to be nothing she could do to.
"It's not even philosophy," he growled, and even if it were, he said, pacing the floor, "It's vague, irrational, obscure. Maybe that's the clue, but it doesn't make sense."
They struggled on for another hour or two, going over the same ground, She checking inwardly to try and see if she was missing something or had got something wrong, while he worried about whether his ingredients were fresh enough or whether they were exactly the type needed. It was getting extremely late, and she was thinking that maybe they had both had enough.
"Are you sure," he asked, suddenly swinging aggressively towards her, "that there is nothing else on that parchment?"
That made her angry. Instead of trying to understand the content, he was criticising the messenger. She had been over it and over it, and she got the same each time. No difference at all.
"No," she snapped, losing her composure.
He threw himself in his chair, and then said "There are two books in the library that might be of assistance. Pity it's closed." He thought for a few seconds. "I think a little breaking and entering is required. Right now," he snapped, heading for the door. "Stay here while I check," he said imperiously, almost contemptuously.
"I'm coming with you," she retorted.
"Your coming is not an option." he growled, his hair spinning as he swung round the edge of the door.
"I am coming whether you like it or not," she replied, glaring.
"Very well!" and he stormed off down the dark corridor.
As they approached the Library, he put an abrupt hand up to signal her to be quiet and stop, which she did, nearly plummeting into the back of him.
A quick 'Alohomora,' and they were in, and then into the Restricted Section. The place was creepy at night, the shadows in an unease truce with the presence of hundreds of ancient books containing millions of ideas, of stories and potions and myths and reality. From low to high bookshelf, crammed in order was a human semblance of understanding. They had made their way in the shadows, but as soon as they were in, Severus ordered three floating candles to see by and put several wards on the door. On a second thought – after a quick glower at her, he threw a Silencing Charm as well. Elrin was sure she could see the thought shoot through his mind that he wished he could so easily silence her.
Both of them dived for the relevant shelf and nearly touched one another, avoiding it by inches. Peering by the light, they studied the texts, she sitting on a study table in between the rows of bookshelves, while he paced about, muttering and cursing. After fruitless minutes, in which they exchanged no words, he slammed his book down.
"This is ridiculous," he sneered. "The potion failed because it was incorrect. It had to be. There is no question that the potion was made wrongly, so I infer from that, that there is something wrong elsewhere.
She flung her book down as well.
Infuriating.
"As I understand it, you said 'to connect that which you normally would not connect.' What does that infer?"
"I don't know."
"I fail to comprehend how you can receive this information without understanding it. The words that we speak have meaning, yet you receive without meaning? That is not reasonable," he said, looking superior.
Maddened, she fought to halt the rising tide of anger within her.
You don't seem to understand, 'Mr.Logic,' I don't have a hold on what I receive. It is – and searched for words – insubstantial. It has no measurement – it has no substance to be able to peer and decipher it. It is indefinable." She did not mention that she was emotionally affected by it; so sure was she that that would have been the short route to his dismissal by him of her abilities.
"Substance or no substance – it did not work." His voice was icy.
"I – know it did not work, that is why I want to find out why."
"Because you mistranslated something, there is no other explanation," he declared, eyes flashing.
"Oh, and it might NOT have been your potion making."
"You will regret insulting me," he hissed, " I have been a Master for two decades, and not just A Master, but The Master And You, you come in here – a half-witch, telling me I am mistaken."
"All I am saying is that the mistake might have been at any stage," she returned, enraged at half-witch.
I speak Phoenix for Merlin's Sake.
"There were no miscalculations in my Making. The mistake is yours, so own up to it, Lady."
She could shout all she wanted, and no one would hear.
"Don't you dare call me Lady! You patronising bastard!" she shouted at him.
Speechless, he lunged towards her. She held her ground against the table, daring him to strangle her or whatever thoughts he had in his mad eyes.
Would he go for his wand? She'd like to see him try.
Maddened beyond tolerance, he grabbed hold of her shoulders and thrust his mouth onto hers.
Oh saints preserve us.
His mouth hit hers with a force that she returned instinctively, throwing her arms around his body as he grasped hers. The energy that clashed together impelled them against one of the bookcases, arms pulling, lips seeking more, legs trying to gain a dominance, him to prise her apart, her to seek the force of him. In their struggle, they knocked one of the candles in midair, and he jerked to a halt to move it, both of them in a suspended intermission, then both plunged back in, his hands pushing against her bodice and pulling on her buttocks, lifting her so that she pressed against his heat and his hardness. Suddenly he grasped one side of her face with splayed fingers and tilted it so that he could peer directly into her eyes.
What can you read? Do you need to see?His hand still, he moved his thumb against her lips, then dragged it back across, she panting, staring at his fascination. Her response was to grab his hair to pull his head towards her breasts; a desperate wanting flooding her whole body, her groin urging and screaming for him, her legs trying to wrap themselves round him.
"Severus…" the sound came out of her throat like someone else's. "Severus.. I want you. I want you," she managed to gasp out, clinging to him, searching his mouth, tongue fighting with his, frustrated because she couldn't get to his neck and his chest, so tight was his buttoned up jacket, and the little white collar poking provocatively out from underneath it. She wanted to tear them away. He, however, with his mouth secured on hers, was busy removing her robe, flinging it on the floor, her hair falling down in the process, so she fought back by trying to remove his while he was crushing himself against her body, she now speechless with desire, her legs beginning to buckle under his ascendancy. His robe slid off with a hissing sound. Jamming her up against the table, he stopped to catch his breath, his lips not wanting to be parted from hers for long, his breath ragged against her cheek Recovering fast, he then dived downwards and lifted her skirt up so that her legs were exposed, one outstretched rigid arm shoving the skirt against her body and while watching her face, caressed her thighs with the other.
"I'm not going to stop this time," he said, gaining control of the situation, his voice vibrating his authority.
"No don't stop, don't stop, please," she begged, afraid he might back off.
"I have no intention of doing so," he replied, one of his hands moving towards her bodice, and finding himself obstructed, ordered her to make his progress more agreeable.
"Remove – that thing."
Shaking, she removed her bodice: it was off in no time, while he thrust his fingers through his damp black hair, standing over her as if he could devour her and since she was not wearing a bra, her breasts became free underneath the light top. Plunging in again, he moulded his hands over her small weighted breasts, feeling the nipples almost crying out through the material, and moaned deep against her as if it came straight from his chest, vibrating into her own. She had her arms back against the table for support as he made his way back to her legs, stopped to glower at her, and then searched his way to the gentle roundness of her stomach down to her mound beneath the material, and as he felt the wetness there, smirked. Pulling off the knickers with her help, he threw them with their robes and searched gently, so gently stroking her outer lips and then rubbing his fingers where they would excite even more, she grasping hold of him with an arm, breathless. She felt she couldn't take more of this before she would explode. He bent down towards her face watching her still, pleased at her abandonment and her surrender.
"What is it you want?" he purred in her ear, pressing himself tight to her, his fingers still in situ: his hand warm against her belly, his breath on her hair.
"I want you, Severus, now, I want you now. Don't torture me," she panted, beginning to fight to get to his buttons, to rip them off.
Damn things, so many of them. To think I liked them.
"Now, now, patience," he said silkily, stopping her and lifted her right up on top of the table. She didn't want to let him out of her clutched hands, so he eased himself up onto the table and kneeled over her. She bent her back, wanting the pressure of him on her, wanting that hardness, not caring if she looked foolish or not, with him high above her, his hair falling over his face, eyes glittering like black stars and a strange expression on his face. Then she knew how the lioness felt when she wanted the lion to cover her. To feel his strength above and on her, possessing, protecting, burning. Her skirt had fallen down in the move, so he lifted it high again to reveal herself to him in the half-lit room. Then he sat back and began to use his tongue where she could not bear it. She could feel his nose as he searched about, licking and prodding.
"No, no, I want you. I want you in me," she cried, half getting up. He pushed her firmly back down again with one arm, and she, not strong enough, succumbed. He was busy enjoying himself, then just as she wanted to scream, he thrust one knee into her groin, making her moan in despair and with the other, parted her legs.
"Is this what you want?" he teased.
Who would have thought the Potions Master would be a tease?
For answer, she grabbed what she could of him, which was mostly frockcoat, and managed to get his head and thence to his mouth, which he responding with a thrust of his tongue into hers. The urgency was overwhelming, the blood pounding in her head and in her groin .She searched with frantic hands for his trouser buttons, but it appeared they were already undone, his hot manhood swollen with pride, already thrust out, twitching with desire.
He wanted her; he wanted her.
She held him and stroked the shaft and cupped his balls so that he inhaled sharply. Now she had control of him.
Nice one Elrin.
He growled and slipped into her without pause. He had taken control back again in just one swift movement, and she was impaled up to the hilt, straight in. Breathing strongly, she grasped the rest of him to fit to her body, and wrapped her legs round his back, searching for him to get deeper and kissing his face, his lips, his eyes, his enormous nose, spreading and clutching her hands through his sweat-soaked hair.
"Elrin.." he gasped, struggling for control.
"It's alright, my love," she whispered. He paused, looked her forcefully and slowly began to pump, and she gulped, feeling the rising tide of her own blood begin to want to overwhelm her. She was coming quicker than she thought she would.
"Sev…" she warned, to which he began to move faster, ramming himself, the table rocking, until she cried out with a silent scream and went rigid in his arms. As he felt her inner rhythms pulsing, he came with a power that shocked him, collapsed, moaning, and like a drowning man, cried out her name into the dark of the library.