Chapter Eight
"It's stopped raining," the low voice murmured from the window, pale hands clenching the gauzy curtains, a silver band glinting from one of his knobby knuckles. Her eyes were half-lidded, drunk and glazed, naked body barely covered by the thin sheets that were tangled around her torso. He watched her from the corner of his eyes, barely caring for more than the shape of her hips, the delicate cup that was her breast, the slightly blueish-pink nipple that was still erect, from a chill in the air rather than excitement. Their lovemaking had stained the bed with shining fluid in more than one place, not that it mattered.
"Tom, come back here, lay with me ..." her whine sent a ripple of disdain through his thin frame. Eyes narrowed to slits, her turned to face her. She was too far gone to recognize the warning signs reflected in those cold features, as he descended upon her.
"You want me to lay with you?" the sensual sneer that crawled from his mouth jolted some distant memory in her. Blue eyes wide with sudden fear, she met his dangerous gaze.
"I-I didn't know what I was-what I mean is-"her words were stumbling over one another, too fast, too few, incoherent despite her attempts. Long fingers wrapped around her throat, squeezing slowly.
"I only fucked you for a child, but I can fuck others," he whispered, choking the air from her. Eyes bulging, her nails clawed at his iron grip, saliva bubbling at her lips.
"Puh-pulease, T-t-to-o-om-don-"with a sickening crunch, he watched the blood dribble down her cheeks, the now bloodshot eyes roll back into her head, bloodied blonde curls a pillow for the awkwardly lolling head. Glancing at his hands, he saw a faint fleck of blood had marred his fingernails. Disgusted, he ripped the sheets from the bed, throwing her limp body to the floor. With a swift kick that sent her naked limbs sprawling into the corner, he reached for the pack of cigarettes she had set on the nightstand. The air was foul with the pungent scent of sex and death. Lighting one, he never bothered to even glance at his handiwork, as he turned to face the window again, swilling a large amount of absinthe from the half empty bottle on the sill.
Exhaling a long spiral of smoke, he gazed at the strangers milling below him on the wet streets. A woman with brown hair; dark brown hair and even darker eyes, clutched the cloaked arm of what must have been her husband as they wove through the crowds. Her legs were long and alluring beneath the folds of her skirt, the seams of her stockings following the curves of her calves, leading his gaze to her tiny waist and delicate neck, and fashionably coiffed hair. Such a lovely neck, he allowed himself to think as he sipped from the bottle once more. When her face turned upwards, meeting his, he was caught off guard by the large nose that was amongst such a small and pretty pair of lips and sparkling black eyes. It reminded him of a beak, almost, though it only added something to her beauty.
Allowing a seductive smile to cross his handsome face, he sucked deeply on his cigarette, setting the bottle down to wave at her. Blushing a dark crimson, she smiled back and ducked her head in a demure, sweet way. The man leading her along seemed to sense her distraction and glanced behind only to follow her gaze. When he saw the young man's naked torso, he gripped her elbow firmly and slapped her across the face, hard. Staggering backwards from the force of the blow, she clutched at the tiny, netted hat atop her head with her small, gloved hands.
It was only a breath, but the young man felt his anger flare at the blatant display of violence out in public. A few passers-by had stopped and one or two women had gasped in shock, their own eyes blind to whomever was watching from above in the tall hotel. When the husband turned back to the window, it seemed as if all expression had been wiped from him, were anyone to look in his eyes. Concentrating, the young man focused his attention and led the couple to the hotel doorway, up the stairs and to the door of his room.
A steaming mug of tea was cupped in her tanned hands, wreathing about her face, as thickly lashed green eyes stared across the tables of students during breakfast. Her legs were sore, her ribs ached, and she was having trouble sitting still, but she managed to remain calm and focused, searching among the children before her.
Children, all of them, despite their experiences and lifetimes of hardships, they were all still just children. Something she had to remind herself often, particularly when her thoughts were on the most famed of all wizarding boys, Harry Potter. He sat now, with his two best friends flanking him, as they chatted over toast and porridge, his own emerald green eyes occasionally flickering to the staff table and meeting her forest green ones. He was curious, about herself and Maeve, about Severus and Dumbledore, about Willow and Ivy-she could see it reflecting each time he dared to look at any of them. It was only a matter of time until he approached any one of their cliques, and she wanted to make sure that Maeve or herself would have influence over the boy who lived before Willow or Ivy began leaking their poison into his brain.
But it wouldn't be easy; the Solaris sisters had a certain pull over the men and boys of the world that Juniper despised and envied with each passing year.
Owls swooped through high-ceilinged hall, dropping mail at the proper owners without care to drinks and food. Once particularly lovely tawny owl perched politely in front of Juniper, offering a small scroll. Without hesitation, she placed a small knut into its leather pouch and pocketed the scroll for after the meal. She already suspected whom it was from, but was a bit taken aback to see the probing eyes of Harry watching her. Sipping her tea slowly, she decided that today would be the day she would make her move.
The cold blue eyes of Willow watched the exchange intently, which was not lost on the observant Maeve, drinking deeply of her own bubbling brew. They would have to move fast if Willow was alerted now; she had already begun to influence Severus, and classes had only been underway for about four weeks.
Standing in an imperious manner, Juniper didn't even bother looking about her; she only kept her eyes locked on the Potter boy, before exiting the hall in a dignified manner. Finishing her drink, Maeve stood as well, black curls dancing about her face and shoulders like flames, as she sent a chilling glare towards Willow. With a contemptuous smirk, the auburn athlete watched the second of the pair follow her friend's lead, as she stroked the thigh of Severus beside her under the table, fingers grazing over the straining fabric between his legs. Though his penis was at her command, his eyes were fixed on the memory of the two disappearing into the castle from breakfast, wondering if it was his imagination that Harry Potter was suddenly agitated and shooting troubled looks over his shoulder where they had taken their leave.
Sighing beside him, Willow arched her back in the pretense of a stretch, drawing his probing mind back to the heat beside him. After all, it had been so long since a woman had lavished attention on him, and how he had missed it so. Perhaps, now that school was back into full swing, they could consummate the growing passion between themselves-he had fantasized about it often enough now, and found his hands stroking himself many dark nights after she had left him in a teased and tortured state of desire.
After all, what did they have to lose now that almost everyone-including students were already gossiping about what may or may not be between them? Staying her hand on his thigh with his own, he leaned it, never seeing the brief flitter of repulsion that disappeared from her features instantaneously as he whispered into her ear.
"Perhaps my classroom, before morning lessons start, we could speak?" with a sensuous smile, she nodded shortly, and stood, cursing the fact that this game of cat and mouse was taking so much precious time, but deciding that cementing her power today would be more profitable than disposing of him. She would deal with the Potter boy soon enough, once Severus' loyalties were hers and hers alone.
She knew he watched her leave the Great Hall, and as she made her way to the dungeons, she began to undo the clasps of her cloaks before she had even reached the doorway. She hoped Juniper or Maeve would find her with him, and allowed herself a moment of triumph at the reactions that could be a result of her and his betrayal.
A lone pair of eyes were hidden behind a suit of armor, watching the hook nosed Potions Master following the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor into his classroom. Sliding from their hiding place, but still impossible to detect by anyone, they stepped into the classroom, only to meet an unlikely couple, but not an unlikely sight, considering that Willow had been seducing Severus since she had first set foot in Hogwarts. Steadying their breath, the eyes watched and were pleased to remain unexcited by the display of vulgarity she offered. Another few people were unfortunate enough to chance upon the sight, however, and they were not unknown for long.
"Is this what you wanted to talk about, Severus?" Willow purred, allowing her cloaks to open and reveal her lengthy legs and white as snow skin.
It took only a matter of moments for them to fuck, and then it was over. Shaking his head, he watched her a moment as she gathered her fallen robes and redressed. He felt strange, not really satisfied, more or less just disappointed in himself for giving into such animalistic urges with someone whom he hardly knew or cared to know. After all, in the past four weeks-actually, since she had arrived at Hogwarts-Severus had found Willow to be about as deep as a shallow puddle. She had no real thoughts to offer on anything outside of herself, and when she tried to interpret what she had done in her minimal, limited acting career before teaching as art, he found himself biting back laughter.
So, why, he wondered, had he still desired to fuck a woman whose only significant addition to society was drama in the form of her anger and selfish urges? Was it because she carried herself with such confidence, such arrogance? Was it because she was the antithesis of what Maeve and Juniper were in his past (and still his present)? Why, even the sex today had been a slim comparison to what he had experienced with his two lovers so long ago. Even he, as withdrawn and neglected sexual appetite in the past few years, had to admit it was rather pathetic the lack of passion she had inspired in him during their very brief intercourse. He had never found a woman who so desperately craved short sex, but she had done everything in her power to ensure it was nothing more than few wasted minutes of his time.
At that moment, however, time seemed to stop as Severus realized they were not alone in his classroom.
Standing in the doorway, horrified and hurt, were the two women who had loved him so in the past, who had spent many nights curled around his own gaunt frame after hours upon hours of tender, sweet, passionate lovemaking. And now they were staring open mouthed at the spectacle before them. Willow had a downright evil smile curling across her face and Juniper's eyes glistened with tears when she met his own. It felt as if a bucket of ice water had been poured over his head, and no words came when he opened his own mouth. Turning on their heels, the two left as silently as they had come and he could only assume they had seen every detail of the affair.
It was only after Willow kissed him on the cheek and had bidden him farewell, that he began to wonder where the Potter boy had been during it all, and why he was arriving to class late as the other students opened their textbooks and began to scribble their notes.
Dipping her brush into the red depths of a clay pot, she slowly dragged it across the canvas, marveling at the simple beauty of the paint as it spread and coated the white emptiness of her drawing. It was thick and vibrant, perfectly contrasted with the rich hues of green that were in abundance around it. She had begun the painting when she had found that she was indeed pregnant and during the past seven months, as the life in her belly had grown, so had her painting. It was reaching depths and levels she had never expected, haunting her dreams and filling the empty place in her soul that had begun to eat away whenever she saw Maeve and Severus curled up together in some romantic fashion.
It wasn't jealousy at their love; the three of them shared a bond few could ever understand. No, it was the fact that she felt as if something were going to destroy their little world any day now. They had worked so hard to keep up a pretense of normality since going into hiding, but now that a future life was in their hands, one that was innocent and pure, she was suddenly afraid.
If the war between Voldemort and the rest of the wizarding world were to arrive on their doorstep today, what would they do? She contemplated this as the summer sun warmed her bare back and swollen belly while she painted, the dust mites dancing merrily around her. These days, when everyone was out working and she was left to herself, she found the enchantment she felt towards this growing child a secret she could indulge in. Even now, she could feel it shifting. Its tiny feet and hands pressing against her, as if to warn her that it would only be a matter of time and then, she would be holding this delicate bundle in her arms. Hear its tiny voice for the first time and smell its sweet scent, to be able to understand what they had truly created.
The sound of footsteps in the back yard reached her ears, and turning ever so slowly, Juniper wondered who on earth would be here at this hour. It was still early afternoon-no one was due home for another three hours or longer.
Resting her brush in a jar of water, she pulled her apron back around her neck, covering her full, bare breasts and protecting the bundle of her stomach as she carefully edged to the window. A gentle breeze rustled the curtains, and the footsteps stopped. Juniper hesitated a moment, her arms cradling herself, as she very, very slowly peered out the window.
A familiar, dark haired and incredibly handsome man with cold, unfeeling eyes was gazing up at their window, waiting for her to glance out at this precise moment it seemed.
Jerking back, she felt her heart begin to hammer. He had found them, and he was waiting outside. Terrified, she glanced at the door. It was locked, but only once. They had become careless in the past few months, and he had found them. Padding across the apartment, praying no one was home below them and able to hear her, she locked the deadbolt, the chains, shoving a chair in front of the door. Even if that held him back, he would find a way in, she was certain.
The fear that filled her sent a serious of prickles down her scalp and spine. She was almost too scared to turn around, for she sensed the change in the air, could see the shadow that fell across the wall. Pressing her lids closed, briefly, she steadied her breath and turned.
He was standing before her, in the room, silhouetted by the sunlight streaming through. The wicked smile that curled his lips froze her. He hadn't aged a day since they had last seen him, though she knew why. Finding her voice somewhere, she managed a choked demand.
"What are you doing here?" He hardly laughed, though she could tell she had amused him.
"Did you honestly think you could escape me, Juniper Lunar?" she didn't move, though his eyes slid to the painting between them, and his smirk deepened, "How lovely-what a touching little family unit you three have created. Unfortunate that it can never come to term," his gaze rested now on her belly, and she felt her heart drop.
"No," she whispered. His head cocked to the side, curiousity now reflected there.
"No?" his laugh was brusque, "Where are the other two?" She wanted to lie, but knew he would see through it in a heartbeat.
"At work," a second laugh.
"As if they were common mudbloods or muggles," he stepped forward, and she involuntarily stepped back, "Don't play this game or you both will die," he warned, "Just come with me and you can conceive another. This is just one." She felt the tears pricking, threatening to fall, as she shook her head.
"Please don't do this," she begged. He snorted derisively.
"I've waited too long for this, whore, now give me the child," she shook her head once more.
"Let me have this one, and I'll conceive one for you, if I must. I'll lay with you a hundred times over, if only to save this one for us," the slap was like the crack of a whip, the force knocking her to the floor, where she trembled.
"You know it can not be from a union between you and I, all of you know this. It had to be of my blood, but not of my loins-don't play the fool, girl, it doesn't suite you. I wouldn't lay with you even if it would spawn a hundred children, you've been tainted by my son's seed," he gripped her elbow tightly, "Just come with me, the next two months will be painless, save for the end and then you are free to go." The tears fell but she did not weep aloud, as he pulled her to her feet.
"Please, control me-I don't want to remember doing this, I don't want to think I could be weak enough to give you my first born," her voice was hoarse. He felt no pity, but seeing that success was within his grasp, he roughly faced her to him.
"Look into my eyes, then," and as she did, her face went slack, her eyes glazed over and he led her from the safety of the threesome's home without a fight, save for the scuff of paint by the window when he stepped on her chamis rag, smearing the blood red color across the sill.
Curled into a ball by the fire, Maeve watched the flames twirling before her, sending ghastly shadows across the walls, as the parchment curled and singed in the heat. Juniper was asleep on the bed, coverlets and comforters wrapped around her like a cocoon. They were meet again this weekend, before the full moon, and yet, she felt no comfort in this as she had before.
The images of the morning were still burning in her mind.
How Severus could have given into that asexual tramp was a mystery to her, as so many other secrets of the school so far. Such as Harry Potter seeking them out earlier today, afraid, confused and seeing them as a beacon of hope. She wondered if he saw even a hint of what they could be when he stared at their souls. She knew the boy was gifted, but the people he surrounded himself with seemed to be more apt at solving the truths of the world than he could be at times. She winced as the image of Snape gripping Willow's buttocks while he rammed his cock into what must have been a loose and dirty cunt came to her mind once more. She hadn't been able to stomach supper after that mess, and Juniper had wept with her as night came upon the school grounds.
It wasn't as if they still loved him with the same intensity of so many years ago, but it was true that there was a bond, a connection, an understanding she thought that they all three still shared. And seeing him as he was today, fucking like a horny teenager, was a stark reminder that nothing would ever be as it had been before that fateful night at the ballet. Stoking the flames with a poker, she fingered her slender wand in her pocket.
Contemplation could be her worst enemy sometimes.
The scars on her arms were a reminder of that, whenever she needed help to stop herself from regressing into her own self-loathing. After all, it was he who had made the mistake this time, not she or Juniper. Sometimes, she wondered how things might have been if she had dragged Juniper to that coffee shop with her back when they were still young, in school and just visiting England for a lark. If only she had made sure her mad friend hadn't been left to her own devices, she might have never started up a conversation with the skinny, strange boy who would grow into the most gifted and deadly potions master any of the wizarding world had known. If only she hadn't allowed herself and her lover to fall for such an odd creature, they might have never met the Dark Lord, might have never had the troubled, checkered past that now haunted their very footsteps.
Standing, she found herself peeling back layer after layer of clothing, and crawling into bed beside the warm body of a woman whose own wounds were the only ones that equaled Maeve's. She wrapped her arms around the brunette, kissing her forehead before snuggling against her.
"I'm sorry, love. I'm sorry we ever returned to the isle of England, I'm sorry we ever returned to our past, I'm sorry I ever thought we could move on and escape the pain of memories," she whispered, before drifting off into a troubled sleep of nightmares filled with infants, a handsome, cruel man and a love between three people that would never be understood for what it really was.
As the fires dimmed, a long figure cloaked in the darkness and secrecy of their own powers, slipped from the room, mind all awhir with the knowledge it had just acquired, traipsing down the halls to find what other tales the rooms of Hogwarts held.