Chapter Seven
There's a road from Vegas to nowhere ...
The winter snow had finally begun to melt away outside their cozy room in the boarding house that had been their savior only a few months ago. Never before had anyone been as relieved as the three trapped inside to see Spring. The dreary and drab aspects of the Winter Season had taken its toll, and none of the three were too merry when night gave way to dawn. Granted, there was a certain note of excitement in the air, but the novelty of a pregnant lover had worn off. Juniper was feeling rather overemotional as her hormones went into full overdrive, as she had reached her fifth month, and was expecting the third trimester to be no better. She constantly felt as if she were as big as a house, and while she was, far be it for the two people she loved most to tell her. As a result, her sex drive had been as up and down as a windy road on a mountain, and that left only the two remaining to enjoy themselves.
While Maeve wouldn't have minded being impregnated herself, she decided that waiting until after one child had been birthed would be a good enough rest period for all involved, and their male partner was overjoyed at the fact that he wouldn't have to deal with two moms to be at once. If it hadn't been for the money that had all been scrimping and saving over the past few months, working muggle jobs (they often shuddered to think of how humdrum their appearances of their life had to be, and were always ecstatic to be home) and the like, so thankfully, they were able to meet the cravings of a hungry foodbag such as Juniper. As Spring came to bud, however, there were others things coming as well.
Maeve gasped and groaned as Severus; their bodies drenched in sweat, they rolled onto the tangled sheets, as a very sleepy Juniper tossed a pillow in their general direction.
"No fair, I want sex, too," she mumbled, still not entirely awake.
"You're pregnant," Maeve argued, her afterglow still flaming her chest and throat, which Severus was dotting with kisses.
"I'm not showing ... yet."
"That's true, you aren't really showing yet," Severus added, giving her once toned body an appraising glance, "I think I like you softer like this."
"Good, then let's make things interesting when you get your fluids back." With a nod of agreement, he stood and strode to the bathroom, prepared to shower and fall into a deep sleep of his own.
"Honestly, he's got to be the luckiest man alive-finding two women as sexual as we are." Maeve's voice floated to his ears as the water began to steam the mirror. Smiling ruefully, he climbed into their narrow shower and began scrubbing vigorously, a childhood habit he had never entirely dropped.
"I am the luckiest man alive," he shouted at them, to which giggles were his reply.
"We know." they chorused in unison.
A tickling of her slope nose gradually caused green eyes to open; slowly but surely, the thick dark lashes parted and greeted the morning. Sitting up delicately, Juniper gazed about her. She was still at the cabin, and her stomach didn't feel so well, and that was when last night came flooding back, despite the dream that had been so interesting a moment before. She hated to dream of the past, of memories. It always made waking up that much harder.
To her right was a body; to the left were the remnants of their third wine bottle, almost half full. She could feel the stiffness in her side as her ribs screamed in agony. Rolling over gently, she kissed the scarred shoulder that peeked from the covers, sunlight dappling it in tiny patterns. She remember bits and pieces of last night, as she curled back around that warm body beside her, and couldn't help thinking that while it may not have been as crazy as her early life had been with lovers, it had indeed been a wonderful one. Their bodies molded together perfectly, something the tall, dark lover of her past had obviously been unable to accomplish with either her or Maeve, since they were both abysmally short (and damn proud of it, too). Slapping away the dust mite that had woken her, Juniper tried to stop herself from sneezing.
It didn't work.
"Hmm, morning lovely ..." a low voice rumbled, rubbing her back lovingly.
"Morning," she yawned, pulling her cloak on from the floor and searching for her cane through the litter of clothing and bodies on the floor.
"Where are you going?"
"Maeve and I have to get back to the school before someone notices that we skipped out for a night or two—was it two nights?" she muttered, rubbing sleep from her eyes.
"I think it was a whole weekend," Maeve's voice was thick and weary as she rose from the tangle of limbs that were strewn and entwined across the cabin. Shafts of mid-morning sun illuminated her round hips and full breasts from behind like a Titian painting, her dark curls mussed about face and shoulders, lips swollen from nibbles and kisses. Juniper breathed a languid sigh as she gazed upon her friend and love. Their beauty had only increased with age, leaving them ripe in their early prime; something she was reminded of often when she took in the sculpted features of the woman before her.
"Damn--well, no time like the present. Let's get moving," Maeve heaved a sigh of regret, bending over to kiss those on the floor farewell, "We'll be back soon; at least, as soon as we are able to. We'll probably be under close watch for the next few days." There were no arguments, only a murmur of disappointment as the two swept from the cabin's ramshackle doorway into the somewhat foreboding Forest.
The clearing was bright, which lasted for a good part of the hike back to Hogwarts, until the trees became thick, bringing darkness was upon them. They were silent, soaking in the weekend events as if it was their lifeblood, reflecting and contemplating the things that had been learned through the hours of intense physical exertion and deep discussion.
"So, what are we going to do about Severus?" Juniper let the question hang in the air, pregnant with potential.
"I don't know-he's a difficult part of the equation, but I'm sure we can think of something-as long as he doesn't become too involved with Willow, we'll be fine," she replied, shielding her eyes against the sunlight as they exited the forest, the glare reflecting off the castle façade nearly blinding.
"She has his interest, that's for sure, though," Maeve added, steadying Juniper against her, "Easy, honey, easy. Watch your footing there."
"Thanks," sucking a sharp breath over her teeth, Juniper winced, "Stupid Willow-what the hell was I thinking, confronting that crazy bitch?" Meave shook her head.
"I've been wondering that myself; I mean, she's never been the most stable of people, has she? Remember what happened on the set of that film-when she was just beginning her career?"
"An extra should never be that vocal or that obnoxious, but her temper; she just lost control, and I'll never forget the mess I had to clean up. All those innocent people-I've never seen so many Memory Modifications performed at once! And the lies that were shoveled down their throats—I mean, honestly, a special effects malfunction? Who were they kidding," Juniper strained to see in the entrance hall, her eyes adjusting to the change of light, "She always did have so much raw Dark power. I've never heard or seen anything like it before."
"Nope, me neither. Now, what is it they were saying about the Floo Network? I mean, I know we've used it for communication, but is it really safe to use instead of walking? I mean, what if we're caught-" Maeve cut short as footsteps were heard nearby. Without hesitation, the two hobbled as fast as they could to Juniper's quarters, praying that no one had overheard them.
"Headmaster, I think I have been patient enough with the current situation-but I can't stand it a moment longer! She's always watching me," Willow's voice rang throughout Dumbledore's office, as he sat calmly behind his desk, "Waiting for me make a mistake. It's undermining my authority, filling my student's minds with all sorts of nonsense. You have to do something; reassign her or send her away; I don't care what. Just get her out!"
"I'm afraid that is entirely out of the question, Professor Solaris. Maeve Ulster is one of the most accomplished Defense Against the Dark Arts professors in the US, and we feel privileged to have her here at Hogwarts, not to mention so far from home-like yourself. Especially considering the current state of affairs of Europe with Voldemort on the rise," Willow flinched at the Dark Lord's name, "Not to mention the fact that I simply feel as if it is in the best interest of the students to receive a well-rounded education and what better way to have them be prepared for the conflicts of war than to have them learn from two different perspectives of two very gifted professors?" Preening slightly, Willow allowed a brief smile to flutter across her tight features.
"I suppose I see what you are saying, but still, there is the matter of her usurping my authority in front of the students-"
"A problem I will address personally immediately," Dumbledore interjected, rising from his seat to usher her out the door, "Good day, Professor Solaris. I look forward to seeing you at dinner tonight." With an awkward nod of her curled head, a slightly puzzled and still disgruntled Willow left, leaving an irked Headmaster standing among the portraits and magical objects that filled his office. Pinching the bridge of his crooked nose, Dumbledore closed his eyes, deep in thought, as a shadowy figure stepped forth.
"Keep a close eye on both of them, please, and inform me immediately if anything goes awry," he instructed, allowing the tension of Willow to seep from his mind.
"What of the others-there was a noticeable absence over the weekend. Very similar to one that occurred during the Winter Holidays," the visitor commented dryly.
"Yes, but at least they waited until school was underway again before they took off into the night this time around; I wouldn't trouble yourself too much over it, but have someone keep a close watch on any other weekend excursions just to be safe." The guest nodded before disappearing once more, as Dumbledore returned to his desk, taking a quill into hand. There was a lot of work to be done before things became too hectic in the halls of Hogwarts.
Spider-like white fingers massaged the bridge of a flattened nose, red-rimmed eyes pressed together as the reports of the month spilled from the pathetic form crouched in the shadows on the floor.
"There were visitors, during the weekend, much like in the Winter Seasons of last month-"
"Was this before or after the full moon?" an icy tone inquired.
"Before, my lord. And-"here the voice sputtered.
"Speak you cowardly fool!" the command rang throughout the room.
"It seems as if they are planning, my lord, plotting and planning an attack. But on whom, we don't know. Their allegiance seems to neither lie with Dumbledore or the Potter boy, but they have been in contact with Snape frequently-"
"How frequently?" the question hung as a single band of silver burned against cold, white flesh. Slowly, it was twisted back and forth in an absentminded way. The quivering creature watched with watery eyes, as if those hands would strike him at any moment.
"Everyday-yet, Snape has no reports of their true whereabouts on these weekend excursions. It is only known that they disappear into the Forbidden Forest and emerge unscathed days later," he finished as quickly as he could, praying to be dismissed.
"Keep a close eye on both of them, and inform me immediately if anything should go awry-we don't want Dumbledore getting to them first," the voice sent a shiver down the spine of the rat-like man cowering on the floor. With a swift nod, he bowed his head even lower, nose touching the floor, "You are dismissed, worm." He needed no other prompting.
Turning to the window, he gazed listlessly over the melting ice and snow before him. Soon, another freeze would grip the land, and the slush would turn deadly to any who dared to brave the outdoors. A second winter seemed to be coming.
The wicked smile that curled his lips would have frightened any who chanced upon his face, but the silver band upon his finger that he twisted round and round and round was far more intriguing.
"A state of emergency! Surely, this is some sort of joke," Maeve watched in amusement as Juniper swirled about the room in a myriad of green and pink, throttling the paper she held in her hands.
"Nope, says right here why ..." Maeve trailed her fingers down the column of print, as the hiss of the fire told her Juniper's copy had fallen to the flames in a crumpled ball of disgust. Puffing her chestnut locks from her face, she stalked the length of their small quarters, rearranging and stacking stray items and scrolls.
"A curfew on all wizards and witches-who do they think they are? The Gestapo? And a ban on traveling through the Floo Networks—why not cut off my legs while we're at it, Fudge!" she raged at the ceiling. Maeve tried to stifle the yawn her body commanded; she knew it would only fuel her lover's fury.
"It's not as if they're doing it to be cruel, June-it's for the safety of the wizarding world-they've no idea who's defected to Voldemort and who hasn't," Juniper's eyes flashed with warning and menace, "Don't give me that look, it's logic, and I know you hate it when logic wins, but we can still apparate and use portkeys, so pipe down." Something indistinguishable was muttered, but Maeve let it go.
"I still think it's ludicrous—and just when we had set up an illegal Floo Point in the Forest, too-maybe that's why!" Suddenly, the crazed look overtook the short brunette; sending off warning bells in the darker one's mind-she knew that look all too well, "Maybe they're on to us, watching us, planning, calculating something-but what?"
"Juniper Lunar, listen to yourself! Watching us? Who, in their right mind, could be watching us besides Dumbledore-and he wouldn't alert the ministry; he despises Fudge almost as much as the common wizards do. Stop acting like a loon and get your shit together, we have classes to teach for Merlin's sake!" Stooping to gather her things, which were now neatly stacked beside her, Maeve tried to ignore the sounds of a pillow being attacked.
"How do we know Dumbledore hasn't gone into league with Fudg-oh, for crying out loud, you're right. I do sound like a lunatic-where's my cloak?" Foraging with a ferocity normally reserved for lions killing a stray zebra, Juniper searched her closet, "Still, it is a little funny, don't you think?" her muffled voice managed to reach Maeve, who nodded.
"It is, but there's nothing we can do about it now. God, I wish they would put a ban on that Willow creature-she's trying to get me sacked. I can feel it."
"Well, she already cracked my ribs. You were bound to be next," Juniper countered, finding her cloak behind a chair and pouncing upon it, "I knew it wasn't in the closet." Fastening it at her throat, Juniper felt her fingers stray to check on the chain that she always wore about her neck, well hidden under clothes from prying eyes. The treasure was safe and still there, sending an unnatural sense of peace over the petite woman.
The two swept into the halls of Hogwarts, a mutually understood silence descending upon their normally chattering voices. One had to be careful these days with what they spoke of outside of the sanctity of their own rooms, though even those were questionable in their security. The students had begun to show signs of dissent among one another, as rumors of Voldemort's power growing and expanding had become more and more frequent. Open duels were being fought between classes, and many professors had begun to prowl the corridors with wands held ready.
Although, it wasn't as if the Teacher's Lounge hadn't felt the repercussions of recent events, either; several tense moments had occurred when a few loyalties were questioned, and the newcomers had definitely felt ill at ease since the attack from Willow on Juniper. It had reflected badly on all of them, and they knew it.
As the two small women wove through the throng of students that had spilled from their classrooms only seconds after they had begun their trek to their classes, snippets of conversations met their attuned ears.
"...I've seen the way she and Snape look at one another, and Ernie MacMillan was saying Blaise Zabini had caught them in the dungeon after class one day!"
"NO!"
"Yes. And they weren't discussing potions,either..."
"They weren't shagging, were they?"
"Might as well have been. Was a pretty tight embrace, if my sources are correct."
"Ew! Who would want to shag Snape? He's such a greasy git!"
Maeve hazel eyes slid over to glance at Juniper, whose lips were tightened in irritation. It was obvious they weren't speaking of her and Snape, so the only other option was Willow--Maeve had watched the other woman's attempts at seduction on the potions master. While she wasn't as feminine as the two of them, she definitely had her own way of charming men. It was a subtle tactic, involving a sense of camaraderie, the ability to make them feel as if she were one of 'the guys', while simultaneously making that man feel as if he were the only one she had any interest in at all outside of the friend label.
She never would have thought it would work on Severus, at least, it wouldn't have worked on the Severus that she and Juniper had fallen in love with so many years ago. But loneliness and time can change a person, and he had spent many a long night alone, without the comfort of another body, without the touch of a woman on his skin, or under his fingers. So it was now only a question of a matter of time until he broke his celibacy with Willow, and whether or not she and Juniper would be able to handle the repercussions if he did.
The steady rumble of thunder in the distance sent several straggling walkers outside scurrying to the nearest doorway on the cobbled streets of Diagon Alley. Summer rainstorms had been swift and unpredictable this year, and more than one witch or wizard had found themselves drenched in a matter of seconds while walking from one shop to the next. Two giggling girls, fresh over the ocean from America, had been delighted to be a part of the class trip this year to England. They had just happened to get 'lost' from the rest of their group and had spent the day wreaking havoc in the local taverns and pubs while collecting all sorts of trinkets wrapped in brown paper to take back home with them. As they dashed into a cozy, warm tea shoppe, the darker of the two scanned the menu once, only to turn wide eyes to her companion.
"They only serve tea," she spoke very slowly and carefully. Her friend looked crestfallen.
"Damn! Why do you have to be allergic to my favorite beverage, I ask you! WHY?" with a roll of the eyes, her friend turned on her heel.
"I'll go to the coffee shop we saw a few paces back and meet up with you here in a few, alright?" with a shrug of the shoulders, the lighter brunette returned her gaze to the floating menu.
"Don't take too long, Maeve," she called, as the red clad witch disappeared. Another low roll of thunder sent a twitchy wizard farther into the recesses of the shoppe, his teacup chattering against its saucer as he found a new table. When she stepped up the counter to place her order, the young girl was taken aback to see a pale, but smooth skinned and rather handsome young wizard (in his own, unique way) smiling back at her. He had long, lank hair that was pulled back into a messy ponytail, and while he had a rather large nose, it only accented his dark, brooding eyes. He didn't look as if he smiled much, and his teeth a pale yellow-she assumed stained from a regular drinking of tea, but he was still quite handsome in her eyes-in a European way. And the British accent that spilled from his lips when he greeted her almost melted her knees.
"Good afternoon, how can I help you?" licking her lips nervously, she allowed her green eyes to dart back to the menu, suddenly on edge.
"One peppermint tea, please-large. The largest size you have," as she fumbled in her pockets for her wallet, he watched her, his smile still plastered to his odd features.
"Thank you," the words flowed smoothly as he took her change, their fingers brushing. She could have sworn she felt sparks when they touched. In a matter of seconds he was brewing her tea, while she examined his broad shoulders and lightly muscled arms, pretending to be rereading the menu of biscuits and sweets that floated above his head. Though she was sure her ruse was lost on no one. She didn't know how she managed to mumble a thank you and a smile when he handed her the hot mug, but she tried her best no to slop or spill it all over herself when she found a seat rather close to the counter, but within sight of the window with the best view outside.
Suddenly, a large boom made her jump; a bolt of lightning cracked the sky and within moments, rain was pouring in great sheets down the streets. She was so engrossed in the phenomenon, she hadn't heard the young man sneak up behind her, until he was standing in front of her. Raising her green eyes to meet his, ever so slowly, she swallowed the steaming tea with the lump in her throat.
"I don't mean to be rude, miss, but am I mistaken in assuming that you are an American?" she shook her head.
"Nope. I sure am. It's my friend, Maeve, and my first time visiting here. England, that is. Together. And it's been lovely," she babbled, lost in his gaze. His smile broadened, and she felt almost like a fly in a spider's web.
"Maeve? But what's your name?" he offered his hand, which was calloused and large, and she shook it, surprised that the fingers were ice cold, as well as the silver ring he wore on his middle finger, but the palm warm.
"Juniper; Juniper Lunar," she managed to mumble.
"Do you mind if I join you, Juniper?" her heart skipped a beat.
"Sure! I mean, if you have the time, that is," she hastily added.
"I always can make time for a beautiful woman such as yourself," he replied, sliding into the seat across from her with the grace of a panther. Feeling a familiar warmth between the thighs that spread into her belly, Juniper blushed a rather dark shade of rose and sipped her tea very, very slowly.
Lyrics © Jeff Buckley-'Calling You'