Thank you very much all who have reviewed. It really is very heartening, and I would love to hear from those who have not done so, and ask those who have to continue.

A big thanks for your support and encouragement in this story to the following friends and their wonderful stories:

rickfan37 who has written Snape In Love;

Gwenn who has written Redemption,

Aracne's Child  and her story Domina Rising

and last and definitely not least The Stars Hold Nine Serpents and her Un Livre des Herbes Foncées, A Dark Herbal

Chapter sixteen

The Master Potion Maker

There was a strong pressure on her chest as she woke, and realized it was his arm encircling her, as if he thought she might disappear without his intervention. The white shirt that he wore embodied the essence of him that people never saw, so proficient was his smokescreen, and the small piece that poked out beyond his jacket sleeve was like an absconder, an indication as to what he hid beneath the sinister darkness of his dress and demeanour. People saw him and heard him, and in fact could not avoid doing so, but never appeared to justly consider his actions, so transfixed were they by his intimidations. Elrin sighed and snuggled and spooned against him and as he had nothing on his nether regions, wiggled her bottom there with a mixture of seduction and innocence. From the moment she had awoken with a satiated heart, she had felt her bodies' tranquillity extend from the deepest centre of her body to the outer silkiness of her skin.

How much happiness could anyone take?

As she lay enfolded in the arms of someone who's life-blood surrounded them in years of patient study and discovery, she absorbed the passion of his vocation as one who had never experienced the phenomenon before. Passion was overindulgence in her world, since no one she had ever known did anything unless it was initiated and approved of by others and when the assignment was completed, they expected immediate and substantial reward for their trouble. From her relatively low perspective, she could still observe his desk, and by the warmth of it's lamp, could see the high thrust of quills from the inkwell that waited for his hand and the piles of assorted parchments, well-worn books and antique weights that formed the busy nucleus of his profession's everyday labour. Behind them on the shelves like secret worlds, stood innumerable jars and this was where his heartblood lay, measured out in hours and years of collecting and investigating and dissecting. Those organic substances that belonged to hoof or claw or scales huddled within opaque and misty liquids to be transformed, their existence extended beyond their natural decay. Magnified behind slick glass, they constantly revealed and disappeared within their murky depths, eventually to yield to the potion master's hand or knife. Other stored objects were void of moisture, rattling and snapping in their stoppered jars as dusty, fine particles of roots and bones clung onto the sides of the glass like drowning particles. All of the earth's substances were dissected and pounded from one form into another, their original selves metamorphosed, distilled and brought into contact with uncommon bedfellows in the fervour of the cauldron, stirred by a slow hand. Then they could reach a hermetic ecstasy that none could reach alone as the potion masters eye and mind assembled and exploited them for his will and purpose. She had instinctively wanted to remain in his workroom because that was where he had his being, his solid centre, where he spent and renewed his life force, where the privacy of his own chambers encountered the outside world. It was a centre of concentration and fierce control, but still retained the dark poetry of evolution and quest. Now she had added her own distillation to his world but what she had brought she could not tell, except that the alchemy had shifted to something else quite different.

Turning her head to see that he had woken already, she pulled his free hand further in to rest on her breasts, which brought his head beside hers.

"You made the sound," she said softly.

"So did you," came the low rumble of his voice vibrating through her body as he tightened his arms about her.

"It didn't hurt you, did it?"

"No, it didn't." It was – remarkable." He found himself inarticulate faced with the breathtaking affirmation of life at such close proximity. So used to his own savage criticism and derision of others as well as himself, he felt confused when his heart was seized, though that had been such a rare occasion as to be almost imaginary. The breach in his armour was too recent for him to find superlatives for the glorious sound that he had experienced, even though he felt at ease with her. Though he noticed, that he could read in her a new strength that he had not observed before. Was it new or had it been there from the beginning, undetected? He could not tell.

"I can't imagine why it hurt you before," she said.

"I suspect," he said, shifting his body weight to become comfortable, "that it was not the sound itself that injured me, but the very act of me preventing its admission."

That made sense.

She twisted her head round to see his face and although it remained aggressive in its profile, eyes shooting sharp judgement out from beneath predatory eyebrows, there was at that moment more than a hint of quietness in that glassy darkness. Taking her hand from his she reached out behind to stroke his mouth. As she reached the lower lip, he bit gently and she slid a finger inside feeling the sharpness of his teeth and the strength of his tongue, and was aware of movement behind her hips. He breathed heavily and she could feel his hot breath on her finger and he pulled it out and kissed it and continued with the rest of her hand. That gesture made her want to encompass him and seek him and hurt him and devour him.

"Have you not had enough, my lady?" he said, amusement not far away, though his face was straight.

"I'll never have enough of you," she replied, stroking his arm through the sleeve of his jacket.

"I think you may," he smirked bitterly as he bent his head above hers. She turned her whole body round to face him and caressed the shock of his hot skin with her hands underneath his shirt. She could feel the complete length of him, his complete height, as if there contained within that measurement all that she desired.

"What is it that you were thinking so deeply about?" he enquired teasingly, as he shifted his weight to accommodate her new position.

"Your work. You."

"What could there possibly be of interest to you?" he mocked, affecting boredom.

"Nothing specific. Just – that you care so much about all kinds of mysterious substances and the strange processes that you develop. I was thinking about your knowledge, your experiments, and the idea of transformations that are produced from them: how you deal with life and death as a principle on an everyday basis: how you are looking for the Ultimate Potion. How could that not be of interest?"

He tilted his head to one side as if seeing her for the first time, and placed his wide spread hands on either side of her face and kissed her with an open heart.

"Could anyone have more pleasure?" she said as she snuggled into his neck half-hidden by his shirt. She had not required an answer, as it was simply a statement of happiness, but he responded nevertheless.

"Oh yes, there could," he replied mischievously as he searched in his robe which was awkward because it's vast material was twisted round them both.

What is he up to? There's that look again.

Puzzled, she waited, and then he found what he was looking for, and carefully continuing to maintain eye contact, manoeuvred amongst their clothes to get to her hips and she felt his fingers directly on her hot wet centre and then felt him slide something rigid and thin gently into her. He watched her eyes widen as she realized what it was, and grinning wickedly, he whispered 'Orgasiate Sensorium.' She opened her mouth as the sensation hit and then slowly twisted with increasing desire and he leant over her and held her steady with one arm while clasping his ebony weapon with the other. Gasping, the waves coursed through her lower body, making her bend back to thrust her chest high, her breasts breaking through her open top, as if she wanted to lift off.

"Fervo Sensorium," he said softly as he leaned his dark shape over her.

"No, not stronger," she pleaded, "It's already…" as within her wave upon wave of pleasure mounted higher and higher until she felt ready to disintegrate, her limbs beginning to tremble.

"Oh Severus, oh, no, this is…cruelty," she cried out while he watched with half closed eyes as she thrashed around under his control, gasping and kicking, flinging her arms and legs out in helpless capitulation with a mixture of pleasure and torture until the internal ocean broke over her, waves rippling out from her secret centre and shot through her entire body which shuddered and bent and jerked to a halt. She lay still, panting below him, watching his eyes dark and as hot as the flush on her skin.

"I like to see you abandoned in front of me like that," he said with the lip-curling satisfied conceit that only he could produce as he gently retrieved his wand, and then kissed her on the forehead, pushing hair away from her face. For a while they lay in silence while she recovered slowly like a rag doll over his arm. It took them a few seconds to realize that there was a knocking sound that had them both paying attention.

"I thought there was a Silencing Charm on it," she whispered, as they sat there as still as the jars surrounding them. Then both reacted quickly, reaching for their clothes together.

As he got up and put his trousers on, he said, "Sound cannot go out, but it can come in."

He cursed with the slowness of the muggle-method and with his wand dispatched everything back to normal, including their full complement of clothes, and changed the couch back into its original chairs, and all the ritual accoutrements vanished.

"Your hair," she said, indicating his mussed locks..

"And yours," he replied curtly. "I suggest that you sit down by the fire in your usual chair," he directed as he moved over the other side to be at his desk.

Another knock. Severus, having an idea who it might be from the sound of it, swiftly removed the wards and the charm from the door and then pushed his hands down to smooth his hair and the second she sat down, called, "Enter."

The Headmaster, who looked bright and cheerful, sailed into the office and it seemed to her that he appeared larger than life than usual, more upright or that his robes were more bulky and extravagant.

"I do apologise for disturbing you both." In reality, there was no way the old man could have been deceived about what was going on, for in fact no one coming across them could fail to feel the auric field that united the two figures who were currently at opposite ends of the room, could see invisible cords reaching from body to body. The air must also have been electric with their lovemaking, because she could feel it coming out from her fingers and her hair and her eyes like immense beams of light. Severus, despite his hair being in slight disarray, was better at disguising it, but his eyes did not meet the headmasters'. So although it must have been obvious to Albus, he pretended, like them, to exhibit an air of normality and unconcern.

"I have a little news for you that I feel you must know about, and that is the return of Lucius from his sojourn in East Africa," he said, not looking at the potions master directly, but to the room in general, she felt, in order to give Severus time to collect himself.

Very diplomatic.

" I know you thought he was going to be there longer, but I have indications that Voldemort knows and Lucius has been recalled." he said, looking towards the desk, "And the second thing is that I have invited Remus over – discretely of course – just to keep him in circulation, so he may pop in to see you sometime. Is that acceptable, my dear Severus?"

"If he must," growled the reply from the desk as he shuffled through his first year papers. He was so transparent to her at that moment, she wondered for a moment about his ability as a spy, but perversely, it made him even more beautiful in her eyes.

"Lucius is another matter," he murmured, getting up.

Elrin remembered that which she had put out of her mind for some time.

"Do – you think he will try and put the talisman into me again?" she asked, afraid of the answer.

"It is highly unlikely," replied Severus, "Voldemort doesn't like to be seen to be in error, and would be fearful of making the same mistake twice."

"Yes," said Albus, "that is his mistake. Errors are guides, not something to be avoided. Without them, we are never likely to succeed. And with that homily, I think I will go and have some supper. Are you two joining us?" he asked ingenuously. It felt a little more like a command than a question to Elrin, and perhaps to Severus too, because he put down some scrolls, and replied, "Certainly Albus, if it is time."

"It appears that you have both been so wrapped up in what you have been doing, you are in danger of malnourishment." Both sets of eyes looked anywhere but at each other or the Headmaster.

"You have about five minutes before the gong I believe," said the old man, exiting, humming quietly to himself.

As soon as he had closed the door behind him, Severus snapped. "I wish he wouldn't hum like that, It is extremely disturbing."

She laughed and put her arm round his waist and said, "Well, shall we go? Maybe I had better go first since perhaps we shouldn't be seen together?"

"It's not quite like that," he said, looking a little disconcerted at her statement, but was nevertheless glad that she had spoken their problem aloud, and that she was not going to make a fuss.

"I know it's not. We should not be seen, I understand. Now more than ever. I shall ignore you and look upon you with contempt," she said, smiling up at him as he pulled her close.

"Not too much contempt," he whispered against her hair.

"I am more likely to be glowing than anything, according to Xiomara anyway."

"What do you mean?" he asked immediately suspicious.

"She knows about us," she said, and when he rolled his eyes, she continued, "I'm sorry, she was kind when I was – down.  She said that although I was – unhappy –I had a glow about me. If I was glowing then, I must be like the Northern Lights by now. Let's hope I can dampen it down a bit," she said playfully as she made her way to the door.

Despite the awareness of her guilt, there was no denying that she could feel the confidence of her step as she had entered the hall, and was acutely conscious of the sensuous rhythm of her movements as she took her place, her face clear and without guile and it was if she were swimming in some enchanted air, so bodily energised was she. The vast glow inside of her radiated from her heart, and she basked in her wholeness, her existence, but held herself from an open display of it.  It was thus a different person who took her place at the High Table. It was quite full that night. Most of the staff attended, including Hagrid, but he was at the far end. It seemed that she was no longer the negative centre of attention, because fortunately no one seemed to take any notice of her. She sat next to Xiomara, who had waved her over.

"Come on, tell, you look like the dragon that has the bullion," she giggled.

"We need to keep it quiet," Elrin lowered her voice.

"Quiet?" sniggered Xiomara, "You are broadcasting to the nation with that glow. Especially since you have been slinking around for some time now in guilt and shame. The contrast is extraordinary."

"Maybe, but no one would guess why," she said.

"Or rather with whom," her friend replied, as Severus entered by the side door

 "Can you stop looking at him please?" Elrin pleaded.

I think he'd better talk to Xiomara as her House Master.

Unfortunately, there was only one seat left, so he had to sit next to Elrin. Dumbledore subtly nodded at her, which made her blush foolishly.  Xiomara flashed her eyes at her, and then seeing her frown,  busily concentrated on what she would like for her supper. As he sat down she could feel their subtle substances mingling between them, but she carefully did not look at him, and as they began ordering, he spoke with Minerva on his other side.

Bet that isn't easy for him.

There was such a heightened awareness of his bodily presence and his magnetic pull, that she found it difficult to listen to Xiomara chat away, but allowed her talk to flow over her. Elrin, while nodding to the Quidditch mistress, invisibly focussed on the wizard on her other side, her body still felt as if it were wrapped with his, and the sight and scent of him filled her world, but was reassured that she could hear him murmuring beside her, inches away, though untouchable. So it was her awareness of him that enabled her to first feel the tremor in her own body rather than see it go through him. Out of the side of her vision she saw him freeze and then twist slightly to his left side towards her and heard despite the general hubbub of suppertime, his sharp intake of breath. Instinctively, she stopped as well as if to defer breathing in sympathy with him, and there was for a moment, a pause in their two lives, a moment of duel suspension where they dared not hope nor fear nor love, for it was akin to the opening of Pandora's Box, where worlds shuddered and time stood still. She dared to look at him, and saw that his face was as white as the Headmaster's beard as he gripped his left arm, and breathed slowly and deeply. She knew what it signified, but waited for him to collect himself, saying nothing. His pain divided them as surely as a thunderbolt, tearing him away from the focus of his existence, but it also brought them together, feeling their unity as strongly as if their bodies were fused together.

"There is no need for you to be concerned," he said quietly, as if he were making conversation, while focussing on maintaining his dignity as the pain ripped through his forearm and screamed in his brain.

Would Voldemort do anything to him because she no longer had the talisman?

She could not keep a flash of alarm from appearing on her face. Reading her, he said, "He will not do anything to me. I will have some explaining to do, that is all. No-one knows what brought it out, so as far as Voldemort is concerned, it was incompetence," and he sneered. "If anyone, he is likely to take it out on Lucius."

I want him here. I want him safe.

As well as giving them both away, he would, she guessed, not appreciate the anxiety that she would express given the chance to do so. Her heart ached to see him struggle with the sudden pain, and a shattered lock of hair across his face hid some of the bleakness in his gaze. He sat there totally immobile and her instinct was to hold him, but held herself perfectly still.

"I do not wish you to follow me," he commanded her, "I will be fine. I will return presently." He could see that she was dealing with this in the way that he approved of, and oddly he looked for a second as if he could have kissed her, then turned his head away again just as she saw something very odd. She thought for a minute that it was an illusion, some distortion of vision, but when he moved again, it flashed there again, and she was sure that there was some subtle transformation happening to the upper part of his face. He saw the doubt and confusion on her face and immediately took action.

What the hell was that on his face?

"I suggest that you get on with your supper," he snapped as he got up and marched swiftly out, nodding to Dumbledore as he went, lamps flickering as he shot through the door, throwing his shadow in disarray, and it was as if she too flickered, as if his darkness were as a light and his absence left her as blind as his familiar.