A/N: Thank you again for your kind responses -- Some of the best ones I've
ever had (Sorry for any wait -- Slash is discouraging for me to write)
III. Training
"Basic training will begin today," Severus says, pacing the length of the pavilion and looking like the professor from our school days -- Extremely authoritarian. "You will learn the basics of etiquette which you will be required to know for the Cockatrice Bacchanalia next weekend."
"Cockatrice Bacchanalia? Sounds fairly obscene, if you ask me," Ron says, scowling distastefully.
"It doesn't matter how 'obscene' you may find it," Severus declares with the arch of an eyebrow. "As one of the Debutantes, Mister Weasley, you are expected to attend. And, since I am the Szajha and I am therefore in charge of your activities, you will be attending -- Coute qu'il coute."
Ron Weasley wrinkles his nose, obviously having no idea what the final statement means. Severus waits in silence for a moment, in case any of the other children care to object. He then continues:
"You will then learn aspects of culture -- Dancing, for instance. I expect that none of you know how to dance."
"I know perfectly well how to dance," Ron huffs, crossing his arms against his chest. Severus sighs hopelessly.
"Very well, Mister Weasley. Show me that you know how to dance and you will be excused from that lesson."
Ron proceeds to get to his feet, dust his robe off, and engage in a dance routine that looks like it's come out of a drunken muggle graduation party. I clap a hand over my mouth to keep from laughing when Ron launches into a series of steps that can only be described as "the Sprinkler." Severus remains stoic throughout this presentation.
"There! See!" Ron exclaims. "I can dance!"
"Yes, Mister Weasley," Severus drawls. "I see now that you certainly can dance. I was mistaken to ever doubt your abilities."
Ron smiles, obviously pleased with himself.
"However, the way you dance in front of the mirror in your bedroom, clad only in your boxers, will do you little good here. I'm afraid that you will have to take lessons with the rest, Mister Weasley. Unless you can prove to me you're competent in the waltz?"
Ron takes this opportunity to sit down.
"You will also have to learn the art required for after the Bacchanalia. Yes, you will have to be especially well-learned when it comes to that." Severus suddenly flushes beautifully, taking a seat on the chaise lounge. "It is the main role of the Debutante to be well-learned at that."
"And what exactly is 'that?'" Ron takes the prerogative to ask. "You're being very ambiguous about 'that.'"
"Sexual pleasures," Severus replies bluntly. "After the Bacchanalia, you'll all be expected to allow Lord Voldemort to bed you -- To take your virginity, as I know you're all quite virginal."
All of the children have their mouths gaped open in shock. I am the only one who isn't surprised by this latest development. When Lord Voldemort expressed such an interest in me last night, I began to get a sense of the role of a Debutante.
"Wait a moment," Ron stammers, being the first one to come to his senses. "You mean that we're supposed to allow Voldemort to fuck us?"
Severus looks as though he has just encountered a large pile of rotting carrion.
"It will not be referred to as 'fucking' as long as you are in my charge. You will refer to it as 'bedding,' 'servicing,' or 'pleasuring.'"
"I don't believe this," Ron exclaims, looking absolutely indignant. "I don't bloody well believe this!"
"Believe it, Mister Weasley," Severus sighs with a great air of fatigue. "That will be your most important task -- To learn how to give pleasure. You shall learn by observing and by some experience prior to the Bacchanalia."
"Wait a moment," Ron protests, his face blanching. "By observing? Observing who exactly?"
"Myself, of course," Severus responds. "I happen to be extremely well- learned in the art."
"You?" Ron exclaims, taking a step backward in disgust. "Who on earth would ever go to bed with you? That's positively disgusting!"
I feel like standing up and clapping a hand over Ron's mouth before he can do anymore damage but I can already feel the tension rising up in Severus. The rainfall outside seems to increase in intensity, the air smells the way it does right before lightning strikes.
"Mister Weasley," Severus says softly, threateningly. "As the Szajha, let me assure you, that more than a few men have come to my bed and have begged me to service them. I have not refused. You will not find a man among Voldemort's ranks more experienced than I. I assure you, Mister Weasley, that I am extremely desired. I suggest you think twice before suggesting otherwise."
Neville whimpers. Ron recoils.
I take this opportunity to step forward. "Severus, you also mentioned experience. Will that also be administered by your hand?"
"Of course," Severus replies, picking up his cigarette holder and looking at it attentively. "You are not allowed to be touched by anyone except the Szajha until you have bed Lord Voldemort."
Ron mumbles something involving the phrase "Bloody pervert." Severus glares at him but does not speak.
"What are we going to do today?" Colin Creevey asks, stepping forward from where he has been standing quietly. Indeed, the other four have been standing still all this time -- Justin, Neville, Seamus, and Colin. They almost disappear into the curtains.
"Thank you, Mister Creevey, for showing some enthusiasm towards your training," Severus says, inserting a cigarette into the holder and lighting it. "We will begin today with basic etiquette. You will learn how to curtsey and properly address Lord Voldemort." He inhales deeply on the cigarette and that act alone must calm his nerves when Ron Weasley steps forwards . . . again.
"Curtsey?" Ron voices my thoughts from last night. "You want us to curtsey? But we're men!"
"You're not men anymore, Mister Weasley -- You're Debutantes which is a different thing entirely."
*****
"Alright," Severus sighs, massaging his temples gently. "Show me that you've learned something and we'll end this lesson in etiquette."
Seamus Finnigan is the first one to step forward. The curtsey is a bit too shallow and he keeps his eyes locked on his feet the entire time, willing them not to make a mistake. His address it courteous and respectful though -- "My Lord, I am honored to formally make your acquaintance." Severus nods -- A job decently done.
Colin Creevey is the next one to step forward. He tries to bend deeply but stumbles on the way down. He curses under his breath and rises to his feet. "My Lord," he says, straightening out his robe. "I am honored to formally make your acquaintance." The child tries to regain his dignity. Severus smiles.
Justin Finch-Fletchley earns a word of praise from Severus. His curtsey is graceful, albeit slightly hesitant. His words are soft and well-mannered. All throughout the address, he seems patient and mindful -- Not brash like us Gryffindors.
Neville Longbottom is practically pushed forward by the rest of us and he's a disaster right from the get go. He trips over his own two feet while curtseying and then proceeds to stammer over all of the words, wringing his hands together in nervousness. Severus' eyes fall flat, realizing that Neville might be a lost cause as far as Debutantes go. He praises the boy for his efforts though.
The moment we've all been dreading finally arrives -- Ron Weasley stands before Severus. His curtsey is sharp and masculine, more of a bow than anything. His words are quick and informal. Severus shakes his head -- No. Ron doesn't bother to try and correct any of his movements though. He simply does the exact same thing over again and sits down, content.
I step forward and repeat my performance from last night with a few minor adjustments. I curtsey low to the ground, bowing my head in reverence. I gently lift myself back up, saying, "My Lord, I am honored to formally make your acquaintance." The respect in my tone is sincere. I'm pleased with the performance.
"Extremely well done, Harry," Severus says, using my given name to distinguish me from the rest of the Debutantes -- As if, by doing so, he's turning me into the elite. I blush slightly. "You would all do well to emulate Mister Potter," he says to the rest of the Debutantes. The reddening of my cheeks only deepens.
Severus rises from his seat on the chaise lounge. "We shall now retire from this chamber," Severus says, taking a final glance around the pavilion. "I refuse to entertain guests in the Room of Acca Larentia. Follow me."
Severus quickly steps out of the pavilion into the rain which contorts around his figure. We follow closely at his heels. He leads us across the length of the pavilion and stands before the door, extracting a key from inside his robes.
"Are you leaving, Szajha?" Aquarius asks, bowing slightly.
"Yes, Aquarius," Severus responds, turning the key in the lock. "I have guests to entertain at the moment."
"And the Debutantes are accompanying you?"
Severus opened the door, revealing the dark corridor outside of the chamber. The six of us automatically move closer together.
"The Debutantes have much to learn, Aquarius," Severus says simply, walking out into the corridor, the string of Debutantes in tow. We walk down a twisted assortment of hallways and up a flight of stairs before we finally reach a door -- Stone encrusted with gold leaf.
"Welcome to my private chambers," Severus smiles, entering the room and beckoning us to follow. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to prepare myself." Severus' eyes flicker over a calendar in the back of the room and he reads the name emblazoned under the date -- "Draco Malfoy." Without another word, he whisks into an adjoining room and closes the door behind him.
"Draco Malfoy?" Ron asks, distaste evident in his voice. "What on earth could Professor Snape want with Draco Malfoy?"
We all sit down on the various pieces of plush furniture -- All of them are the same gray color that had adorned Voldemort's room. This room is more luxuriant though. Crimson carpeting covers the stone floor, a chandelier hangs from the ceiling. Gold designs are embedded in the walls -- Serpents slithering across stone. A large canopy bed sits in the middle of the room and, suddenly, I know why we're here. Everything is so dark to avoid excessive staining . . .
A taut silence falls between the six of us -- A silence that is only broken when Severus comes back. A loose robe is tied around him and patches of flesh reveal that underneath the robe, the Szajha wears nothing. His hair falls in soft, loose curls. Paint adorns his features but none of the hard lines that he wears in public -- Instead, everything about him is gentile and refined.
The one night I spent with him, he quickly fell asleep, murmuring a few words to me about what an ideal Debutante I would become. If he had tried to touch me, if he had tried to kiss me, I don't think I would have protested.
There's a quick knock at the door and Severus beams at us.
"This is what I mean by observing," Severus whispers. Ron looks at though he's going to vomit any second. "Come in," Severus calls and the door opens, revealing Draco Malfoy.
I have to keep a hand firmly planted on Ron's shoulder. He looks as though any moment he's going to make a murderous run for the young Death Eater. Draco, on the other hand, doesn't even notice us. His eyes immediately lock on Severus -- A gleam of unparalleled desire evident.
Severus rises to his feet, always the model of etiquette. He curtsies, putting us all to shame -- "Good day, sir."
I'm suddenly struck with the impression that this is a very shameful scenario -- Severus being forced to bow to his former student, to appease the every whim of a boy half his age. This thought is dashed from my mind when I see Draco bow deeply, treating Severus with every scrap of respect indebted to him.
"Good day, Szajha," Draco responds. "I trust you're fairing well?"
"Perfectly, thank you," Severus smiles, beckoning for Draco to join him on the bed. Draco strides over and sits down next to the former potions professor. He sits there, looking starched and uncomfortable until Severus lays his hand on Draco's arm. I realize then that the Debutante is the individual that holds all the power -- A Debutante can decide whether to accept or refuse, a Debutante must initiate the encounter. Draco drapes his arm around Severus' shoulders and Severus leans into the young Death Eater.
"I've wanted this since the moment I first saw you," Draco whispers into Severus' ear. We all strain to hear to words of adoration. "You're the very salt, the very essence, of my existence."
Justin Finch-Fletchley sighs, leaning his head on the couch. Draco jumps slightly, turning to look at us, acknowledging our presence for the first time.
"These are the Debutantes."
Draco doesn't hesitate in getting to his feet and walking over to where we have congregated. All of the others remain perched on the edge of their seats, looking distrustfully at Draco. I am the only one to rise and curtsey, not willing to let Draco outshine me in manners and etiquette. He bows as is expected but the next movement catches me off-guard: He takes one of my hands in his, turns it over so that my palm is facing upwards, and kisses it.
"You must be extremely pleased, Szajha," Draco says with a jaunty grin, staring at me the entire time. "To have such delectable beauty shaped under your fingers . . ."
I notice that Draco is still holding my hand and I pull it away quickly.
"Your words are too kind," I murmur, averting my eyes. Severus clears his throat and I realize my mistake immediately. "Your words are too kind, sir."
"I trust you won't mind if my Debutantes watch?" Severus asks, rising to his feet and walking over to touch Draco lightly on the hip. The young Death Eater trembles slightly. "They're very inexperienced and I'm hoping to teach them something before their first encounter with the Dark Lord."
"Of course," Draco says, taking Severus' hand in his and leading the Szajha back over to the bed. Severus smiles coyly as Draco's hands move to untie the robe. The fabric is pushed off of his shoulders and falls to a pool at his feet. For the first time, the Szajha stands before us -- Completely exposed.
The first thing I notice is that he bears the same mark that was embedded into our flesh. The vines twine around his waist and down his flanks. He's exceptionally thin -- Not a single ounce of fat or muscle to be found. Everything about him seems fine and delicate -- Womanly in a sense. His nipples are taut and erect, sticking out like two rose buds about to blossom. My eyes travel farther down to survey the pile of tight black curls -- The only hair on the Szajha's body. Then I catch sight of his erection -- Only six inches at its longest, a lush ruddy color with a shimmering tip. It's only then that I notice his foreskin has been pierced -- A thin silver ring protruding from it.
"Oh bloody hell," Ron mutters under his breath, his eyes widening.
Severus drops to his knees in front of Draco, deftly unbuttoning the boy's pants and withdrawing the hard flesh from between the folds of fabric. He bends towards the cock and licks it gently, easing his tongue against the head. A slight moan, an abrupt jerk of the hips. Severus withdraws and looks up to gauge the child's reaction. Hesitantly, he leans forward and uses the pre-cum smeared across the tip to moisten his lips.
I try to find a more comfortable position to sit in -- One that will accommodate the hardness between my legs.
Slowly, Severus takes the length halfway into his mouth, reaching one hand up to wrap around the base. Draco reaches out to grab a handful of Severus' hair but . . . He stops himself and clings to the bedpost instead -- His knuckles turning a milky white from the strain. The child begins thrusting wantonly into Severus' mouth and I watch, spellbound, at the cock disappearing through the "o" of the puckered lips and then being withdrawn.
I glance over to find that the Debutantes are all distracted, gaping at the exhibition before them. I take advantage of this and discreetly slip my hand under my gown, grasping my erection firmly. I begin to work my hand up and down the length -- My eyes focusing on Severus the entire time.
Severus withdraws again for a moment, catching his breath, allowing the cock to hover on his glossy bottom lip.
"Beautiful," Draco whispers between labored breaths. Severus smiles and begins his ministrations once again. His tongue slowly traces a line from the base of the cock right down to the tip and then the cock retreats back into his mouth. It only takes a few moments -- Draco's back arches and he moans deeply. They remain in that position for a few seconds and then, the cock is withdrawn. Severus politely swallows, wiping the few traces of semen from his lips with the back of his hand.
I feel myself coming closer to the edge. I close my eyes and focus on the task at hand -- My movements becoming more haphazard and reckless.
"Harry."
I open my eyes to find Severus sitting on the bed, observing me with quiet reverence. Draco is sprawled out next to him, watching me with languid eyes, his features shimmering with sweat and afterglow. All of the Debutantes turn to see what the disruption is -- All eyes are focused on the hand between my legs. I quickly withdraw the aforementioned hand, a thick blush tinting my cheeks when I see that none of the other Debutantes have made any move to touch themselves. I'm the only one . . . Caught in the act . . .
Severus rises from his place on the bed and sits in front of me, brushing away the hair that's fallen into my eyes. A hand trails down my cheek in a gesture of affection while his other hand reaches under the hem of my gown. I protest slightly but he puts a finger to my lips, signaling for me to be quiet -- Be quiet now and let him work. His grasps the column of flesh and begins languidly rubbing his hand up and down my prick, using the other fingers to stroke my scrotum gently. I gasp and gently lay my hands on his shoulders. He continues for only a few more seconds before I come, warm semen flooding out onto his hand.
He brings his hand out from under the gown, wiping his fingers off on a handkerchief on the arm of the couch. He chastely kisses me on the lips and then gets up. His own arousal is bobbing noticeably but he appears to be ignoring it -- Not acknowledging that it exists.
"You are excused," he says to us. The other Debutantes rise to their feet and exit the room, not a word exchanged between the two of them. Ron looks at me, slight contempt glittering in his eyes. I'm about to leave the room when Severus stops me -- Grabs me firmly by the wrist. "Stay with me again tonight," Severus commands under his breath. I don't know how to deny him. I don't know if I want to deny him.
Severus turns his attention to the young blonde splayed out on his bed. He picks the robe off of the ground and wraps it around himself, as if the room had suddenly become chilled. "If you will not be requiring my services anymore, sir?" Severus asks reverently.
"Of course not, Szajha . . . Severus." The boy rises from his place on the bed, buttoning his pants back up and straightening his clothes out.
"Call on me whenever you wish . . . Draco."
The first names are used hesitantly. Formalities are exchanged and Draco walks to the doorway. He turns on his way out and looks at me.
"It was a pleasure," he says, bowing once again. Then, he turns his back and leaves.
"Draco seems very taken with you," Severus says matter-of-factly, sitting down on top of the white cotton sheets. He takes his erection in his hands and begins hastily masturbating. His goal isn't self-pleasurement, I can see that now. It's simply eliminating want and need. He comes quickly and wipes his hand off, hardly acknowledging the action. He pats the side of the bed and I lay down by his side.
"You didn't let him sleep with you," I comment, trying to figure out all of the formalities in my mind's eye. What is the true role of the Debutante? Who do we serve exactly?
"I never allow anyone to sleep with me, except for Tom," Severus states. He thinks a moment and then adds: "Never call him Tom in a formal situation. It's a name only to be used when he takes you to his bed. And, even then, few people are allowed to use that particular nomenclature."
"Oh." I pause for a moment, looking at Severus -- Black eyes framed by thick lashes, high cheekbones traced with rogue, and that horrid nose . . . "Would you kiss me again if I asked?"
Severus laughs, high-pitched and proud.
"Go to sleep."
III. Training
"Basic training will begin today," Severus says, pacing the length of the pavilion and looking like the professor from our school days -- Extremely authoritarian. "You will learn the basics of etiquette which you will be required to know for the Cockatrice Bacchanalia next weekend."
"Cockatrice Bacchanalia? Sounds fairly obscene, if you ask me," Ron says, scowling distastefully.
"It doesn't matter how 'obscene' you may find it," Severus declares with the arch of an eyebrow. "As one of the Debutantes, Mister Weasley, you are expected to attend. And, since I am the Szajha and I am therefore in charge of your activities, you will be attending -- Coute qu'il coute."
Ron Weasley wrinkles his nose, obviously having no idea what the final statement means. Severus waits in silence for a moment, in case any of the other children care to object. He then continues:
"You will then learn aspects of culture -- Dancing, for instance. I expect that none of you know how to dance."
"I know perfectly well how to dance," Ron huffs, crossing his arms against his chest. Severus sighs hopelessly.
"Very well, Mister Weasley. Show me that you know how to dance and you will be excused from that lesson."
Ron proceeds to get to his feet, dust his robe off, and engage in a dance routine that looks like it's come out of a drunken muggle graduation party. I clap a hand over my mouth to keep from laughing when Ron launches into a series of steps that can only be described as "the Sprinkler." Severus remains stoic throughout this presentation.
"There! See!" Ron exclaims. "I can dance!"
"Yes, Mister Weasley," Severus drawls. "I see now that you certainly can dance. I was mistaken to ever doubt your abilities."
Ron smiles, obviously pleased with himself.
"However, the way you dance in front of the mirror in your bedroom, clad only in your boxers, will do you little good here. I'm afraid that you will have to take lessons with the rest, Mister Weasley. Unless you can prove to me you're competent in the waltz?"
Ron takes this opportunity to sit down.
"You will also have to learn the art required for after the Bacchanalia. Yes, you will have to be especially well-learned when it comes to that." Severus suddenly flushes beautifully, taking a seat on the chaise lounge. "It is the main role of the Debutante to be well-learned at that."
"And what exactly is 'that?'" Ron takes the prerogative to ask. "You're being very ambiguous about 'that.'"
"Sexual pleasures," Severus replies bluntly. "After the Bacchanalia, you'll all be expected to allow Lord Voldemort to bed you -- To take your virginity, as I know you're all quite virginal."
All of the children have their mouths gaped open in shock. I am the only one who isn't surprised by this latest development. When Lord Voldemort expressed such an interest in me last night, I began to get a sense of the role of a Debutante.
"Wait a moment," Ron stammers, being the first one to come to his senses. "You mean that we're supposed to allow Voldemort to fuck us?"
Severus looks as though he has just encountered a large pile of rotting carrion.
"It will not be referred to as 'fucking' as long as you are in my charge. You will refer to it as 'bedding,' 'servicing,' or 'pleasuring.'"
"I don't believe this," Ron exclaims, looking absolutely indignant. "I don't bloody well believe this!"
"Believe it, Mister Weasley," Severus sighs with a great air of fatigue. "That will be your most important task -- To learn how to give pleasure. You shall learn by observing and by some experience prior to the Bacchanalia."
"Wait a moment," Ron protests, his face blanching. "By observing? Observing who exactly?"
"Myself, of course," Severus responds. "I happen to be extremely well- learned in the art."
"You?" Ron exclaims, taking a step backward in disgust. "Who on earth would ever go to bed with you? That's positively disgusting!"
I feel like standing up and clapping a hand over Ron's mouth before he can do anymore damage but I can already feel the tension rising up in Severus. The rainfall outside seems to increase in intensity, the air smells the way it does right before lightning strikes.
"Mister Weasley," Severus says softly, threateningly. "As the Szajha, let me assure you, that more than a few men have come to my bed and have begged me to service them. I have not refused. You will not find a man among Voldemort's ranks more experienced than I. I assure you, Mister Weasley, that I am extremely desired. I suggest you think twice before suggesting otherwise."
Neville whimpers. Ron recoils.
I take this opportunity to step forward. "Severus, you also mentioned experience. Will that also be administered by your hand?"
"Of course," Severus replies, picking up his cigarette holder and looking at it attentively. "You are not allowed to be touched by anyone except the Szajha until you have bed Lord Voldemort."
Ron mumbles something involving the phrase "Bloody pervert." Severus glares at him but does not speak.
"What are we going to do today?" Colin Creevey asks, stepping forward from where he has been standing quietly. Indeed, the other four have been standing still all this time -- Justin, Neville, Seamus, and Colin. They almost disappear into the curtains.
"Thank you, Mister Creevey, for showing some enthusiasm towards your training," Severus says, inserting a cigarette into the holder and lighting it. "We will begin today with basic etiquette. You will learn how to curtsey and properly address Lord Voldemort." He inhales deeply on the cigarette and that act alone must calm his nerves when Ron Weasley steps forwards . . . again.
"Curtsey?" Ron voices my thoughts from last night. "You want us to curtsey? But we're men!"
"You're not men anymore, Mister Weasley -- You're Debutantes which is a different thing entirely."
*****
"Alright," Severus sighs, massaging his temples gently. "Show me that you've learned something and we'll end this lesson in etiquette."
Seamus Finnigan is the first one to step forward. The curtsey is a bit too shallow and he keeps his eyes locked on his feet the entire time, willing them not to make a mistake. His address it courteous and respectful though -- "My Lord, I am honored to formally make your acquaintance." Severus nods -- A job decently done.
Colin Creevey is the next one to step forward. He tries to bend deeply but stumbles on the way down. He curses under his breath and rises to his feet. "My Lord," he says, straightening out his robe. "I am honored to formally make your acquaintance." The child tries to regain his dignity. Severus smiles.
Justin Finch-Fletchley earns a word of praise from Severus. His curtsey is graceful, albeit slightly hesitant. His words are soft and well-mannered. All throughout the address, he seems patient and mindful -- Not brash like us Gryffindors.
Neville Longbottom is practically pushed forward by the rest of us and he's a disaster right from the get go. He trips over his own two feet while curtseying and then proceeds to stammer over all of the words, wringing his hands together in nervousness. Severus' eyes fall flat, realizing that Neville might be a lost cause as far as Debutantes go. He praises the boy for his efforts though.
The moment we've all been dreading finally arrives -- Ron Weasley stands before Severus. His curtsey is sharp and masculine, more of a bow than anything. His words are quick and informal. Severus shakes his head -- No. Ron doesn't bother to try and correct any of his movements though. He simply does the exact same thing over again and sits down, content.
I step forward and repeat my performance from last night with a few minor adjustments. I curtsey low to the ground, bowing my head in reverence. I gently lift myself back up, saying, "My Lord, I am honored to formally make your acquaintance." The respect in my tone is sincere. I'm pleased with the performance.
"Extremely well done, Harry," Severus says, using my given name to distinguish me from the rest of the Debutantes -- As if, by doing so, he's turning me into the elite. I blush slightly. "You would all do well to emulate Mister Potter," he says to the rest of the Debutantes. The reddening of my cheeks only deepens.
Severus rises from his seat on the chaise lounge. "We shall now retire from this chamber," Severus says, taking a final glance around the pavilion. "I refuse to entertain guests in the Room of Acca Larentia. Follow me."
Severus quickly steps out of the pavilion into the rain which contorts around his figure. We follow closely at his heels. He leads us across the length of the pavilion and stands before the door, extracting a key from inside his robes.
"Are you leaving, Szajha?" Aquarius asks, bowing slightly.
"Yes, Aquarius," Severus responds, turning the key in the lock. "I have guests to entertain at the moment."
"And the Debutantes are accompanying you?"
Severus opened the door, revealing the dark corridor outside of the chamber. The six of us automatically move closer together.
"The Debutantes have much to learn, Aquarius," Severus says simply, walking out into the corridor, the string of Debutantes in tow. We walk down a twisted assortment of hallways and up a flight of stairs before we finally reach a door -- Stone encrusted with gold leaf.
"Welcome to my private chambers," Severus smiles, entering the room and beckoning us to follow. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to prepare myself." Severus' eyes flicker over a calendar in the back of the room and he reads the name emblazoned under the date -- "Draco Malfoy." Without another word, he whisks into an adjoining room and closes the door behind him.
"Draco Malfoy?" Ron asks, distaste evident in his voice. "What on earth could Professor Snape want with Draco Malfoy?"
We all sit down on the various pieces of plush furniture -- All of them are the same gray color that had adorned Voldemort's room. This room is more luxuriant though. Crimson carpeting covers the stone floor, a chandelier hangs from the ceiling. Gold designs are embedded in the walls -- Serpents slithering across stone. A large canopy bed sits in the middle of the room and, suddenly, I know why we're here. Everything is so dark to avoid excessive staining . . .
A taut silence falls between the six of us -- A silence that is only broken when Severus comes back. A loose robe is tied around him and patches of flesh reveal that underneath the robe, the Szajha wears nothing. His hair falls in soft, loose curls. Paint adorns his features but none of the hard lines that he wears in public -- Instead, everything about him is gentile and refined.
The one night I spent with him, he quickly fell asleep, murmuring a few words to me about what an ideal Debutante I would become. If he had tried to touch me, if he had tried to kiss me, I don't think I would have protested.
There's a quick knock at the door and Severus beams at us.
"This is what I mean by observing," Severus whispers. Ron looks at though he's going to vomit any second. "Come in," Severus calls and the door opens, revealing Draco Malfoy.
I have to keep a hand firmly planted on Ron's shoulder. He looks as though any moment he's going to make a murderous run for the young Death Eater. Draco, on the other hand, doesn't even notice us. His eyes immediately lock on Severus -- A gleam of unparalleled desire evident.
Severus rises to his feet, always the model of etiquette. He curtsies, putting us all to shame -- "Good day, sir."
I'm suddenly struck with the impression that this is a very shameful scenario -- Severus being forced to bow to his former student, to appease the every whim of a boy half his age. This thought is dashed from my mind when I see Draco bow deeply, treating Severus with every scrap of respect indebted to him.
"Good day, Szajha," Draco responds. "I trust you're fairing well?"
"Perfectly, thank you," Severus smiles, beckoning for Draco to join him on the bed. Draco strides over and sits down next to the former potions professor. He sits there, looking starched and uncomfortable until Severus lays his hand on Draco's arm. I realize then that the Debutante is the individual that holds all the power -- A Debutante can decide whether to accept or refuse, a Debutante must initiate the encounter. Draco drapes his arm around Severus' shoulders and Severus leans into the young Death Eater.
"I've wanted this since the moment I first saw you," Draco whispers into Severus' ear. We all strain to hear to words of adoration. "You're the very salt, the very essence, of my existence."
Justin Finch-Fletchley sighs, leaning his head on the couch. Draco jumps slightly, turning to look at us, acknowledging our presence for the first time.
"These are the Debutantes."
Draco doesn't hesitate in getting to his feet and walking over to where we have congregated. All of the others remain perched on the edge of their seats, looking distrustfully at Draco. I am the only one to rise and curtsey, not willing to let Draco outshine me in manners and etiquette. He bows as is expected but the next movement catches me off-guard: He takes one of my hands in his, turns it over so that my palm is facing upwards, and kisses it.
"You must be extremely pleased, Szajha," Draco says with a jaunty grin, staring at me the entire time. "To have such delectable beauty shaped under your fingers . . ."
I notice that Draco is still holding my hand and I pull it away quickly.
"Your words are too kind," I murmur, averting my eyes. Severus clears his throat and I realize my mistake immediately. "Your words are too kind, sir."
"I trust you won't mind if my Debutantes watch?" Severus asks, rising to his feet and walking over to touch Draco lightly on the hip. The young Death Eater trembles slightly. "They're very inexperienced and I'm hoping to teach them something before their first encounter with the Dark Lord."
"Of course," Draco says, taking Severus' hand in his and leading the Szajha back over to the bed. Severus smiles coyly as Draco's hands move to untie the robe. The fabric is pushed off of his shoulders and falls to a pool at his feet. For the first time, the Szajha stands before us -- Completely exposed.
The first thing I notice is that he bears the same mark that was embedded into our flesh. The vines twine around his waist and down his flanks. He's exceptionally thin -- Not a single ounce of fat or muscle to be found. Everything about him seems fine and delicate -- Womanly in a sense. His nipples are taut and erect, sticking out like two rose buds about to blossom. My eyes travel farther down to survey the pile of tight black curls -- The only hair on the Szajha's body. Then I catch sight of his erection -- Only six inches at its longest, a lush ruddy color with a shimmering tip. It's only then that I notice his foreskin has been pierced -- A thin silver ring protruding from it.
"Oh bloody hell," Ron mutters under his breath, his eyes widening.
Severus drops to his knees in front of Draco, deftly unbuttoning the boy's pants and withdrawing the hard flesh from between the folds of fabric. He bends towards the cock and licks it gently, easing his tongue against the head. A slight moan, an abrupt jerk of the hips. Severus withdraws and looks up to gauge the child's reaction. Hesitantly, he leans forward and uses the pre-cum smeared across the tip to moisten his lips.
I try to find a more comfortable position to sit in -- One that will accommodate the hardness between my legs.
Slowly, Severus takes the length halfway into his mouth, reaching one hand up to wrap around the base. Draco reaches out to grab a handful of Severus' hair but . . . He stops himself and clings to the bedpost instead -- His knuckles turning a milky white from the strain. The child begins thrusting wantonly into Severus' mouth and I watch, spellbound, at the cock disappearing through the "o" of the puckered lips and then being withdrawn.
I glance over to find that the Debutantes are all distracted, gaping at the exhibition before them. I take advantage of this and discreetly slip my hand under my gown, grasping my erection firmly. I begin to work my hand up and down the length -- My eyes focusing on Severus the entire time.
Severus withdraws again for a moment, catching his breath, allowing the cock to hover on his glossy bottom lip.
"Beautiful," Draco whispers between labored breaths. Severus smiles and begins his ministrations once again. His tongue slowly traces a line from the base of the cock right down to the tip and then the cock retreats back into his mouth. It only takes a few moments -- Draco's back arches and he moans deeply. They remain in that position for a few seconds and then, the cock is withdrawn. Severus politely swallows, wiping the few traces of semen from his lips with the back of his hand.
I feel myself coming closer to the edge. I close my eyes and focus on the task at hand -- My movements becoming more haphazard and reckless.
"Harry."
I open my eyes to find Severus sitting on the bed, observing me with quiet reverence. Draco is sprawled out next to him, watching me with languid eyes, his features shimmering with sweat and afterglow. All of the Debutantes turn to see what the disruption is -- All eyes are focused on the hand between my legs. I quickly withdraw the aforementioned hand, a thick blush tinting my cheeks when I see that none of the other Debutantes have made any move to touch themselves. I'm the only one . . . Caught in the act . . .
Severus rises from his place on the bed and sits in front of me, brushing away the hair that's fallen into my eyes. A hand trails down my cheek in a gesture of affection while his other hand reaches under the hem of my gown. I protest slightly but he puts a finger to my lips, signaling for me to be quiet -- Be quiet now and let him work. His grasps the column of flesh and begins languidly rubbing his hand up and down my prick, using the other fingers to stroke my scrotum gently. I gasp and gently lay my hands on his shoulders. He continues for only a few more seconds before I come, warm semen flooding out onto his hand.
He brings his hand out from under the gown, wiping his fingers off on a handkerchief on the arm of the couch. He chastely kisses me on the lips and then gets up. His own arousal is bobbing noticeably but he appears to be ignoring it -- Not acknowledging that it exists.
"You are excused," he says to us. The other Debutantes rise to their feet and exit the room, not a word exchanged between the two of them. Ron looks at me, slight contempt glittering in his eyes. I'm about to leave the room when Severus stops me -- Grabs me firmly by the wrist. "Stay with me again tonight," Severus commands under his breath. I don't know how to deny him. I don't know if I want to deny him.
Severus turns his attention to the young blonde splayed out on his bed. He picks the robe off of the ground and wraps it around himself, as if the room had suddenly become chilled. "If you will not be requiring my services anymore, sir?" Severus asks reverently.
"Of course not, Szajha . . . Severus." The boy rises from his place on the bed, buttoning his pants back up and straightening his clothes out.
"Call on me whenever you wish . . . Draco."
The first names are used hesitantly. Formalities are exchanged and Draco walks to the doorway. He turns on his way out and looks at me.
"It was a pleasure," he says, bowing once again. Then, he turns his back and leaves.
"Draco seems very taken with you," Severus says matter-of-factly, sitting down on top of the white cotton sheets. He takes his erection in his hands and begins hastily masturbating. His goal isn't self-pleasurement, I can see that now. It's simply eliminating want and need. He comes quickly and wipes his hand off, hardly acknowledging the action. He pats the side of the bed and I lay down by his side.
"You didn't let him sleep with you," I comment, trying to figure out all of the formalities in my mind's eye. What is the true role of the Debutante? Who do we serve exactly?
"I never allow anyone to sleep with me, except for Tom," Severus states. He thinks a moment and then adds: "Never call him Tom in a formal situation. It's a name only to be used when he takes you to his bed. And, even then, few people are allowed to use that particular nomenclature."
"Oh." I pause for a moment, looking at Severus -- Black eyes framed by thick lashes, high cheekbones traced with rogue, and that horrid nose . . . "Would you kiss me again if I asked?"
Severus laughs, high-pitched and proud.
"Go to sleep."