Chapter Ten
An owl tapped eagerly on the frosted windows of a ramshackle cabin in the Forbidden Forest, the nearly full moon reflected in the myriad of crystals that covered the warped glass. A trembling hand slowly unlatched the window, the hiss and crackle of logs in the fireplace unsettling against the stillness of the night.
"Who could know that we're here?" a nervous voice asked from the shadows within.
"No one who would be foolish enough to send an owl, I'm sure," the other replied, unraveling the scroll that was attached quickly, "It's from the children-they need answers. Answers to a number of questions, it seems."
"They'll have to wait," the growl was irritated, "Don't they know how dangerous it is to send an owl right now?"
"Probably not."
"Where are they? It's getting late, and they're usually here by now."
"I don't know, but be patient, they'll be here," tossing the scroll on the fire, the hands were now steady as they shut the window against the drafts of winter, "it seems we have a second frost this season. It's probably dangerous treading through the forest at night."
"We should have created an illegal portkey, since the Floo Network is now being monitored," The other remained silent at this, watching the wall of trees intently.
The sparks of the fire jumped about merrily, warming the bare feet that rested before it on a brightly colored throw rug that covered the cold flagstones surrounding the fireplace itself. Without turning from the window, excitement audible in their words, the watcher spotted their guests.
"They're here-I told you we had nothing to worry about!" Stretching, the other rose from the chair before the flames.
"I'll answer the door this time; it's been far too long since their last visit."
"Buckbeak's Brigade, open up, its bloody cold out here!" the lilt of Maeve Ulster's voice could be heard from the other side of the door, sending smiles across the faces of the persons inside.
"We'll warm you up, ladies-just get your arses in here!"
His lanky legs crossed in an uncomfortable manner, Ron waited as Hermione secured the door to the abandoned classroom they were in shut, before turning her glowing face upon him. It was moments like these that Ron felt that familiar cold wash throughout his body. Sometimes, Hermione Granger could be the most frustrating woman on the planet, other times, he felt as if his emotions were all a tangle because of the ways she spoke or carried herself or looked at him, with the thrill of a riddle or mystery in her heart.
"Are you ready?" he nodded, chin in hand as she pulled something from her bag, setting it on the desk he was curled upon.
"Why are you showing me some broken tin box, Hermione?" Ron scrunched his nose up as she dumped the contents onto the desktop, while rummaging for something else in her schoolbag. A slightly matted together old brush rolled out, along with a chewed on pencil and a few broken or bent quills; a very, very old packet of cigarettes with only two cigarettes inside, some old bottle caps, a keyring with several strange looking keys attached, a set of theatre tickets from a show seen the year Harry was born for a ballet, a few coiled guitar strings, a strange looking cigarette unlike anything Ron had seen before that smelled stale and had slipped from the cigarette pack itself, along with two chipped shot glasses; one green, one ruby red; and there was an empty, velvet ring box, a small glass phial with something fluffy and porous tucked inside, and a monogrammed handerkerchief. The initials were unfamiliar, but at the same time seemed to be trying to tell him something.
"Um, Hermione, I have no idea what this all means," Ron said, lifting his gaze as she pulled out a bottle of bright green liquid and another shot glass-one that was blue and chipped and matched the green and red ones.
"Do you know where I got this?" she asked in a matter of fact way that was irritating. He shook his head, knowing that even if he did, she wanted to tell him.
"Snape had them, in a secret room he likes to hole up in," Ron's jaw dropped.
"What?"
"I followed him one day, after supper--and it was so strange. Like a different person lived there," she seemed to be lost in the memory. Eyes popping out of his head in disbelief, Ron struggled to make sense of what he was hearing.
"You did what? Why!? Huh-ho-w-how on earth did you manage to steal these things without Snape killing you?" Hermione glared at him.
"I followed him because I wanted answers-I wanted to know what he was doing for the Order, though that turned out to be fruitless. But I found out other things, Ron-and I saw a lot of things I now wish I hadn't," her voice trailed off.
"You shouldn't have done this, Hermione, what if--wait, what did you see?" Ron stared suspiciously at the bottle of green liquid.
"I saw Professor Solaris and Snape shag on his desk like a pair of lusty teenagers," she retorted, snatching the bottle from him before he started shaking it (she could see that he wanted to). Ron looked pale when she met his queasy gaze.
"Tell me you're kidding, please," when she said nothing, he gagged, "Oh, that is disgusting. I thought she had standards, that fool!"
"It was her idea in the first place, Ronald," Hermione opened the bottle, "He has an absinthe addiction, you know."
"Absinthe? Did he brew it himself?" Ron looked into the bottle eagerly now.
"He may have, I don't know, but I felt it was the right thing to do-taking it from him, you know. He was hurting himself, never sleeping and always falling over half drunk in that tower of his," but the pale, freckled face now looked disturbed.
"Why should you care, Hermione? I mean, if Snape wants to kill himself, let him-"
"Real humane, Ron!" she snapped, hugging the bottle protectively, "I had to. Just because he is a horrible human being that doesn't mean he isn't a brilliant potions master! And besides, it seems there was something between him and Professors Lunar and Ulster at one time, too. You've seen the way they look at one another-I think this box holds some clues to that!" Ron scavenged through the contents.
"Oh yeah, loads; this paintbrush and these keys tell it all-Hermione, it looks to me like a memory box. One we would need Snape or Professor Lunar or Professor Ulster to explain to us-not that I really care about Snape's past. How on earth did you think you would get any farther after you swiped this?" Ron sniffed the strange cigarette suspiciously, "Hmm, weird, this smells really old, but like it's made of freshly mowed grass …"
"That's because it reefer, you idiot," she said, sifting through the assortment of knick-knacks.
"Oh," setting the fag down, he watched her peer at a quill suspiciously, feeling more uncomfortable with every passing second, "look, Hermione, we should return this to him. It's obviously important; I mean, it was locked and—how did you break the lock on this?"
"I didn't. Snape did."
"Why would Snape break the lock?"
"He was angry and threw it at the wall, before telling me to take it away," she was now examining the keys thoughtfully.
"He knew you were there?" Ron sounded incredulous, causing another of her famed eye rolls.
"He didn't know it was me, exactly, but he knew someone was there. He could sense my presence somehow, and he hurled it against the wall before telling me to take it," pause, "So I did."
"Still, it seems personal. We should return it."
"He wouldn't have allowed me to take it if it was that personal," she retorted.
"Hermione, seriously, I feel like this is wrong-"
"Do you want to know about the Order, Ron?" she snapped. Ron was silent a moment.
"Yes, but not like this," his voice was soft, and Hermione sighed deeply.
"I don't like the fact that I had to sneak around either, but no one was telling us anything and things have been getting worse lately. I mean, look at what happened to Professor Lunar before the Winter Holidays and then that ban on the Floo Networks-something's up, and if Snape's past is any help to our future, we need to use all our available resources." He didn't want to agree with her, but Harry disappearing and Snape shagging Professor Solaris was too much for him to take at this point. She was right, they needed answers.
No matter how bizarre all of this seemed.
"What do you think he held onto this for?" Ron said, inexplicably drawn to the velvet ring box. When Hermione didn't answer, he slowly opened it, but it was empty as he had noticed earlier when touching it-lightweight without a sound inside. Not even the name of the jeweler it had been purchased it from, though the gold lettering was still faintly intact here and there. Rubbing his fingers over them, it took a few seconds for him to register that there was something behind the inside of the top lid. Glancing at Hermione, he saw her peering at the contents of the phial, holding it up to the light from the grimy window, her eyes squinted in concentration.
Pulling one of the broken quills closer, Ron used the tip to slowly work his way around the lid, prying bit by bit the inner layer off very carefully. When it popped free, two things were revealed. One was a miniature photo of three people, waving merrily and cooing at one another in a romantic way; a very pregnant Juniper Lunar to the left and a seductive, incredibly sultry young Maeve Ulster to the right, with the center bearing a healthier, younger Severus Snape; his long hair past his shoulders and the dark circles under his eyes almost invisible. Puzzled, Ron pulled out the photo, handing it to Hermione.
"Take a look at this," he offered. She took it delicately between finger and thumb, brows shooting to her hairline in surprise.
"Well, I'll be …"
Behind the photo was a small, folded piece of paper. Pulling this out as well, Ron began to open it when Hermione stopped him.
"Let's wait until later, when we have more light to look at that-and when classes are done for the day. Who knows what it could be," she cautioned. Setting the paper back into the ring box with a dissatisfied sigh, he began to tuck everything into the tin.
"Alright, we look through it, we try to figure it out. But I think we should contact Sirius and see if he can help us understand something about these things, alright?" With a smile, Hermione pulled out a scroll and unfurled it.
"Already one step ahead of you, Ron. Just sign your name and we'll send it by owl tonight," pulling the scroll to him, Ron felt that twinge of unease once again that what they were doing was somehow going to open up a can of worms no one anticipated.
The worn and weathered hands of a man slowly traced their way down the waist of a raven-haired beauty, luxuriating in her round hips and trailing across her full breasts each time they wove back up, then down again. Nuzzling her neck, he inhaled the musky scent of fire and vanilla, nibbling at the lobe of her heavily decorated ear.
"I missed you," he murmured in a low voice that sent shivers down her spine.
"I missed you," she replied, one hand tangled in his long hair, the other holding her up from the floor, where they rested on a makeshift bed of cotton pallets and thick blankets. Gripping her buttocks in his hands, he gave them a playful squeeze.
"How much?" giggling, she rolled over, her eyes sparkling as she kissed his emaciated chest.
"Have you been eating?" with a groan, he fell back against the pillows in dismay.
"That's not what I was looking for as an answer," tickling him with her tongue, she murmured an apology.
"I'm sorry, is this better?" he shifted slightly, one hand darting to her thighs.
"Mmm, much better," he smiled when she moaned against his chest, her nails digging into his ribs slightly. Rolling on top of him, Meave leaned forward to touch his nose with hers.
"Why, my dear Sirius-are you trying to seduce me?" with a laugh like a bark, he kissed her lips, then her chin.
"I though I already had," he replied, trailing is tongue down her throat, her chest, to nestle his face between her large breasts. Giggling, she stroked his hair affectionately, "May I try one more time to win your affections, Queen Mab?" Feeling as she had been punched in the stomach at the mention of her old pet name from so long ago, Maeve tried to steady her voice and keep the pace light.
"You can try-we'll see if you succeed," unable to stave the warmth of passion stirring her senses as Sirius' hot mouth encircled the tip of her breast, she closed her mind to the past. She could feel the shifting of him against her pelvis, pulsing as it became hard.
"Naughty minx," he muttered, pressing himself against her. A gutteral growl to their left sent goosebumps along Maeve's skin; she stole a glance over her shoulder. Juniper's chestnut locks were fanning the lower half of a handsome young man, whose sandy colored hair was speckled with grey combined with lines around his soft, haunted eyes. Her head was bobbing up and down very slowly as her lover gripped the sides of the wooden chair he was sitting on.
"I think we can put them to shame quite easily, don't you?" Maeve cooed seductively.
"I know we can," Sirius replied, the passions of raw, animal sex beginning to run their course,"I need to feel you," he whispered, sliding out from under her. Maeve obliged willingly, as he lifted one of her legs to his shoulder, cradling her to the floor.
"Oooh, Sirius," she murmured, feeling the weight of her breasts bouncing as he began to thrust. With a deep grunt, he began to climax, bringing Maeve with him.
"Oh, Maeve, you're so fucking amazing!" he cried, still thrusting with the after effects of the explosive orgasm as she rode him, "I love you, you beautiful goddess, I love you," he breathed against her neck, as she slowed to her own finish.
"I love you, Sirius, I love you, too," she managed to sputter, feeling the slick mess of their lovemaking on her thighs and the blankets beneath them. Pulling out with an agonizingly slow grace, he kissed her down to her now shaking legs. With a nip and lick, he sent her into giggles.
"Mmm, tasty," he muttered, a wicked grin on his face, before quirking a brow behind her, "they're still going at it, love," he watched them with surprise as Maeve rolled to her side, propping her head on her hand. Indeed, Juniper was gasping and groaning as wave after wave of orgasm overtook her where her lover had placed her upon the same chair he had occupied only a moment before, ramming her with great zealous.
"Oh, Remus, yes, oh gods, YES!" Juniper screamed.
"We'll have to try that one once you get your strength completely back, darling," she suggested as he filled a goblet of wine and took a great swig, glancing from she to them.
"Why not have Remus simply try it on yourself before you two leave this weekend?" Remus grinned over his shoulder at them,as Remusbent Juniper over the table.
"Only if you eat June's pussy like you eat Maeve's while I do it," he retorted. With a smirk, Sirius offered the drink to Maeve.
"I would do that and much more to her," he warned, and Juniper laughed between moans.
"Oh, I know that, Mr. Black-and you've done much more, and much worse, before," as with a rather intense thrust, she was sent back into spirals of orgasms, "Oh yes, Remus, right there, harder-harder!" The table jumped with every grunt and groan as the two continued. Sirius' turned his attention back to Maeve, whose fingers were now between her thighs, rubbing once more.
"Are you not satisfied?" he inquired, to which her dark eyes met his own.
"Oh, no, its not that. I'm just ready to go again after watching them, darling, I wouldn't mind Remus showing me a thing or two tonight, you know," she let her legs drop open ever so slightly, and Sirius laughed.
"Remus-I think you have double duty to attend," he offered, and with another heave against the table, the two finisghed with spectacular orgasm,"Oh yes, Remus, YES! GODS, YES! Harder, harder, HARDER, ohhh, don't stop, don't stop, don't stop, oh gods, yes, yes," with a moan, she began to quiet, as Remus met his own, his voice practically inhuman.
"Oh, June, you're so tight, I love the way you feel, oh yes, oh gods, yes, oh, Juniper, I love you! Gods, I love you, oh June, oh yes, hmm, yes," and as the two sweating bodies pressed against the wall, they only turned to find Sirius buried deep within a very happy Maeve on the floor, her hands pinned above her head.
The trees shook their naked limbs angrily at the sky as the slender fingers of a woman brought a burning cigarette to her red lips, sucking on the life affirming stick with relish. Behind her, the every watchful eyes of the man her husband had allowed to abuse her body in ways she didn't even know were possible for the past two nights in effort to make a child within her womb bored into the wall and her scalp at the same time. A child whose fate caused a shudder throughout her whole being, but at the same time, she had enjoyed every moment of the intense passion and the cold moments of silence that followed.
It wasn't as if she were a stranger to the moodiness of men; her own violent husband, while being a poor lover, had the same pattern of behavior. A few pathetic thrusts from his small and laughable cock and she was left unsatisfied and alone in their bed as he drank himself into a booze ridden sleep, after which she would hide in the bathroom, blowing the smoke of her fags out the window so as to not wake him with the stench. But now, things were different. This distant, handsome man was a wild lover, whose own penis was a rival to her husband's in countless ways, and the intensity of his eyes could get her wet in seconds. Their lovemaking was long and she would climax hundreds of times before he ever seemed ready to spill the seeds of his labor within. The moments when she was able to be within her own mind afterwards were a cleansing sort of respite and he didn't seem to want to hear her thoughts or opinions anyways, which suited her just fine. He would drink and drink afterwards but never seem to be intoxicated. Even as they sat here, waiting for his next hard-on to appear, she could hear her husband in the next room with the hooker that had been hired to keep him company, and she felt a smirk lift her lips. The poor girl, she thought to herself, sipping her own cocktail slowly. The alcohol burned her throat, the mixer coating her tongue with its sugary sweetness.
She didn't care that the fur coat that was draped about her body didn't keep the cold bite of the night from hitting her stomach and breasts. She didn't care that she now had a strange tattoo burned into her forearm or that her husband would never probably lie with her again. Being a part of this harem that the young man was amassing, whose age it now seemed was not reflected in his youthful looks, was only a part of the larger picture to her. In a way, she felt free. If the child she bore was taken from her, she didn't care. She had been allowed pleasure, for once since her bitter engagement, and she didn't care if she never felt the fullness of her new lover again after this night. The memories of the past two would sustain her for a lifetime.
Coming up behind her, the man slid his arm under her coat, around her waist and with a flick of the wrist, she let the fag fall to the ground. He was rock-hard pressing against heras she turned to face him, the fur dropping to the floor as he pulled her to the bed. She would bear him a child, she decided, no matter what the cost, and she wouldn't regret its death when it was born if it meant that these memories never end.