Hiding Under the Ninth Earth
Book 03 : Epithalamium

Part II : Oh What a Difference a Day Makes
Chapter Twenty Eight : Amore Pleasant Interlude

Edited for FanFiction . net--just a little--165 sexy words were sacrificed on the altar of the rating gods.

I apologise if this feels choppy in any way, but coitus writus interruptus is never a pretty thing. Remember, if you are of age, the full version is available at my site.

However, despite the sacrifice, scenes of both Hetero and Slash Relationships remain; Caveat Lector--you have been warned..

25 October 2003 (Continued)

The memorable event over (although no one had danced on any tables) and the guests long gone, Poppy bustled around their bedchamber, feeling uncharacteristically restless. She was stopped by a warm hand coming to rest on her arm.

"Come here, my love," Albus said and she gratefully let him fold her into his arms. They shared the sort of deep kiss they'd not experienced for years, the rejuvenated bond within them flaring with a fiery passion, her earlier feeling of restlessness defined by the desire flooding them both.

They let it carry them where it would and for the last time in their lives, they experienced the sweet quickening of their youth. The shackles of age disappeared as each saw only the one they'd fallen in love almost a century before, the love now stronger, deeper, so much a part of them it was as necessary as breathing. Albus held close to him his winsome lithe lass, exploring her fully and with as much delight as he had the first time they'd loved. She in turn took her powerful, fiery red-head into her with the same fervour, straining against him breathlessly as they reached their mutual satisfaction, the pleasure taken and given as astonishing now as it had been then.

And when lying snug and warm in their bed afterward, bodies tired and sated, yet held lovingly close, they both remembered laughingly with aching joints why it was something best left for the young and decided they were supremely content with what they had, for as long as they had it.

Ben lay awake in the dark, the castle room in which they were staying unfamiliar; tomorrow they would return to Hana. He held a deeply sleeping Kalani close to him not only to ward off the unaccustomed chill of the chamber but also from the satiation of their earlier loving.

He smiled, content, his body still tingling in places from their recent joining. He rarely surrendered himself to Kalani, but tonight he'd needed to be possessed by his husband, to reaffirm their longstanding trust and bond by giving himself over in this way. While Kalani, totally surprised but understanding (though a little discomfited), had been gentle and taken his time, Ben was still a bit sore but was truly well satisfied.

Kalani's sinful mouth had been especially wanton. Their long unhurried kisses gave as much pleasure as the wet nips bestowed by each on fevered skin. They'd taken their time, letting hands and mouths wander as the ensuing heat made the thick duvet unbearably warm; it had not taken long for the bed clothing to fly to the floor. Kalani's hands had driven him close to madness from which had gradually grown for both an unspeakable need.

Kalani had moved over him, his strong arms quivering as he pushed Ben deep into the bed. When he'd given the nod telling Kalani he was all right, he'd been rewarded by an involuntary hiss of Kalani's indrawn breath as he made love to him. Bright flames had licked his skin with each passing moment, eventually bursting into an intense wildfire shooting through him. The quickening within, redoubled without as their bonds, both the one of their marriage and the one of Kalani's healing, amplified the shared sensations building in them. Almost at an unbearable pitch, they'd balanced on the edge, their exquisite release so profound it stole their breaths. He'd again heard his name gasped along with the ebullient feeling of Kalani straining against him.

And afterwards, the real closeness had come, the oneness of their links still singing through them. Separating, they'd laughingly retrieved fallen bed clothes to warm bodies now cooled of their ardour. Sliding under the cold sheets, the duvet pulled up to their ears, shivering arms wrapped around each other as bodies held close shared the heat brought by coursing blood. They'd whispered words of love, their spent desire spoken with soft kisses and even softer caresses until Kalani's voice had faded, to be replaced by his deep even breathing. And Ben had held his precious burden close, revelling in the moist breath wafting across his chest, the unconscious nips of sleepy lips against his skin, the nestled head lulled into deep sleep by the steady beat of his heart.

Aware of a small continuing discomfort, Ben carefully shifted to a more satisfactory position in the deep downy bed. Once settled, he made sure Kalani was held fast by pulling him closer, breathed in deeply the scent of his bondmate and, placing a light kiss on his tousled head, closed his eyes to dream.

Molly and Arthur were sharing a cup of tea in the kitchen before going to bed. Molly's skin itched like it often had before the children were born. One look at his eyes told her, through years of experience, that he was feeling the same urge to scratch that she was.

"It's so quiet with all the children gone now, isn't it?" she asked innocently with the voice often used to seduce him when he was tired after a long day at work.

Recognising the tone, Arthur stood from his chair and, eagerly taking her hands, pulled her up into his arms, pressing her back against the table as he kissed her with the abandon of their early marriage. "Hmmm, yes, quiet and alone. I wonder--"

She was well-pleased; Arthur always had been impatient. "Wonder what, love?" she asked, kissing him back.

He took his time unbuttoning the front of her robes, paying special homage to the familiar, loved skin under his lips. "Wonder if the table is as strong as it used to be."

Her eyes flew open as, with a wicked grin, he proceeded to test the theory.

The table held just fine.

Ron and Hermione were already in bed, already lost in themselves.

Ron was being uncommonly gentle, mindful of the baby she carried, still so small within her. Frustrated, Hermione finally stopped him, her hand on his shoulder. He lifted his head from the breast he'd been attending and fixed questioning eyes on her.

"Ron, you're driving me crazy," she said as gently as she could given the asperity lacing her voice. At the sudden brightness shining in his face, she realised he misunderstood. "No, Ron--crazy as in frustrated, not brilliant."

His face fell, along with everything else. He rolled off of her, lying on his back, defeated. She sighed exasperated. "Ron, I'm still me, just pregnant. I didn't suddenly Transfigure into a delicate flower. I'm a healthy, lusty woman who wants... you," she whispered, moving nearer to him. She ran her hands over his chest and sides, her lips seeking his in the darkness and when they connected, she poured every ounce of skill and knowledge of him she'd gleaned over the last few years into their kiss.

He responded by pulling her close, partially covering her, his mouth devouring hers, sending her heart into overdrive. He moaned his own frustration when she pulled away. His arms around her tightened and, rolling, he settled her on top of him. She could feel his evident interest and dipped her head to chase wet open-mouth kisses down his neck while his hands lowered and cupped her cheeks.

Delighting in the shivers under her as she traced his earlobe with her tongue, she whispered, "That's so much better." She sat up straddling him, sliding over him, but not allowing him entrance. He bucked and groaned, trying to shift her the little bit he wanted; she chuckled as she thwarted him. She bent at the waist, her hair falling around his face, surrounding them in complete privacy. Huskily she murmured, "C'mon Ron, let's show him how it's done."

His hands firm on her hips, he grinned as she moved the inch.

Malia was met at the door to their rooms in the castle by Joseph. He caught her 'mood' immediately and, as always, was eager to oblige. "How was it?" he asked, closing the door to their chamber.

"It was beautiful, just like Ben's and Kalani's, only more formal--I think Albus used an older rite. I wish you could have been there."

He shook his head. "It would not have been appropriate, although I appreciated their invitation."

"No, there was no place for guests, only participants." She told him about the unusual setting, leaving out the excitement of the delay, as she got undressed for bed. His eyes followed her movements and when she reached for her nightdress, he couldn't stand it any longer and in two strides was behind her, his hands caressing her shoulders, his body close to hers. His hands skimmed lightly down her arms and as she raised them to grasp his head behind her, they slid over her small breasts; he loved the way they instantly peaked in the chill of the room. She threw her head back on his shoulder.

"You weren't there very long," he commented, ghosting his lips over her proffered neck, his hands dropping to the front of her hips, pulling her into him; he was ready for her. "I expected you to be there for hours."

She leant into his touch. "No sense hanging around when the happy couple has gone off in a tizzy," she murmured, turning her head to him.

"No, I suppose not." He turned her around and kissed her soundly, stoking her mood. "What say you we tizzy ourselves."

Arching into him, her body told him she liked the idea, very much.

The twitching tip of her ear tickled his cheek, but she was close against him. A small twig poked into his back, making it itch, but her hand, curled trustingly on his chest under his new robes, was soft and comforting. The air was a little chilly across the top of his head, but she sighed contentedly in her sleep, her breath warming his heart as much as the place where her lips rested.

Dobby shifted Blinky slightly to draw her closer, rubbing the tip of his nose lightly across the top of her head nestled snugly into his shoulder. The twig could be fixed, the cosy nest where they trysted, hidden on the roof of her master's house in Hogsmeade, could be relined, the walls built a little higher to stop the draft--it was, after all, only a temporary trysting nest until he could grow her a home. A home--their home. The thought chased away all the little discomforts; for now, he was just happy she'd said 'yes' and wanted to spend this time, all time, with him.

The Elf-Glass Orb he'd obtained months ago in hopes of this day was resting securely in his lap. While it would eventually be the instrument of their binding, they'd just awakened it this evening up here alone when they'd sealed their agreement to Join. Blinky would be his; he would be hers. Of course, being the practical creatures they were, the Elf Orb, once awakened, had many other uses, one of which was it could be employed to 'see' things or happenings quite far away, if one knew how to use it. Dobby had not known, but after a few tries, he'd managed to make it work the short distance they'd required.

To watch the human's ceremony with the Orb had been Blinky's idea; she was curious about the men who might be her future masters. Harry she knew from his visits to Master Jed; she thought him very polite, but Professor Snape she'd never met and was a little scared of his reputation as a stern man who was sometimes unkind to his students. Despite Dobby's reassurances, she wanted to see for herself; Blinky didn't want to belong to Professor Snape if he was unpleasant. She'd had enough of that sort of thing at the Malfoys', thank-you-very-much.

Dobby chuckled thinking of her reactions to the ceremony (and really not so different from his own). They'd both been fascinated by the ritual, the setting (which had made her sigh), and the people (Blinky thought the headmaster was very funny looking). The Epithalamium and Vows had sometimes made her cry, but Dobby certainly didn't mind--not when it meant she'd clung to him, burying her face in his neck to hide it, giving him a valid excuse to hold her (not that he really needed much of one in the first place). In her haste to get away from the image of Severus and Harry kissing, she'd almost knocked him out of the nest. Her scrunched up face as she'd exclaimed, "Oh! That's just--unsanitary!" had amused Dobby greatly (even if he did agree with her) although he'd privately thought it rather sweet and not at all what he'd been expecting; Harry and Professor Snape had always been respectful of his sensibilities by not doing that in front of him.

Certainly not at all like the things he'd been forced to witness at--no, it was better not to think on such nasty things.

However, messy human habits aside, when they'd set the Orb aside with the ending of the rites and snuggled deep into the nest, her sleepy comment, "He's not as fierce as he looks--rather like a puffskein, isn't he?" pretty much summed up his opinion about the Professor Snape he saw whenever he was around his Harry. He took her comment to mean she wouldn't mind sharing masters with him.

Masters. Would she choose to be free?

He shrugged--it didn't matter much to him as long as she consented to bending the 'rules' just a bit to be with him, like tonight, let him hold her close, and sneak the occasional snuffle from her (all the sweeter for its theft before their Joining). And maybe someday, if they were deemed worthy, they could mate and have elflings. But that was a long time away, maybe never, a price he paid for his freedom, one she was willing to share, saying it was certainly a lesser payment than not being together at all. No, for now he was content with his Blinky just as they were.

She snuggled closer to him, sighing again, and he knew what Harry had meant when he'd said "My heart is so full lying in your arms." His eyes growing heavy, his last thought before he joined Blinky in her dreams was that he hoped Harry liked his wedding gift.

Was it possible she was flirting with him?

Shacklebolt had been eyeing Quiesta all evening, stealing glances while standing by her side throughout the ceremony. And now that they (along with the rest of Harry and Severus' 'unattached' friends and colleagues) were at The Three Broomsticks continuing the party left behind, he'd taken his rusty Gryffindor courage in hand to sit next to her in the crowded booth and strike up a conversation. He'd almost fallen over when she'd returned his attention with what appeared to be the same interest and was thankful to all the gods he didn't believe in that his dark skin in the dim lighting hid the multitude of blushes he could feel dancing across his skin as he tried his best not to stammer or make a fool of himself.

Chocolate and cream, such a sinful delight, but that was what came to his mind whenever she'd put her hand on his arm while they talked. And her hair--at times it had taken much of his willpower and most of his attention to stop himself from running his hands through the long wavy hair looking like it was spun of the finest chestnut silk. Staring at it now, he realised it had red and blonde in it as well when viewed by candlelight and, intoxicated by the soft fragrance of it, he wondered how much of his soul he would have to sell to bury his face in it and run the length of it over the length of him. He wondered if she would be interested in seeing as much of him as he would of her. When he finally got the courage up, he was surprised with her 'yes' when he asked her to see a Muggle concert with him the next weekend. They soon found they had much in common.

McGonagall, Hagrid, and Flitwick were all drinking cordials, the tankard in Hagrid's hands better suited to ale rather than the dainty drink McGonagall had insisted on. Kahealani drank sweet pumpkin juice, something she'd never tried before and found she rather liked. She listened while they talked of the ceremony briefly and then moved on to spend more time speculating on how long it would take for Harry to chastise Severus on the day's adventures. The odds were even at ten minutes.

Moody and Remus had dragged them all there, Remus promising Kahealani he would have her back to Hogwarts before it was too late. She'd told her mother where she was going and with whom; Malia had eyed Remus speculatively while he wasn't looking. She knew the gentle werewolf would keep her daughter safe and had exhorted Kahealani to have a good time and "don't be such a wallflower."

Remus found he rather liked the quiet young woman, her shyness and modesty appealing; it brought out a protective streak he didn't know he had in him. He decided he wanted to pursue a relationship with her, later, when he had a chance to talk to her parents--she was so young and he more than twice her age and a werewolf, after all. It would do him no good to pursue the object of his desire if her family wanted nothing to do with him; however, Malia and Kalani seemed different somehow, more tolerant. It made him bold enough to try.

For now, though, he was more interested in cheering Moody up than anything else. The melancholy he could feel from his long-time friend came as a bit of a surprise; Moody was rarely, well, moody. He smiled at his own pun.

The celebration after the ceremony had been shorter than planned given that Severus had been all but swaying on his feet a few minutes after the first toast. His eyes dulled with discomfort and weariness, he'd eschewed a chair saying, "If I sit, I may never get up." Harry had taken over not much later, adroitly moving them both to say their thank you's to everyone in such a manner that no one felt skipped over and everyone said their piece. Remus had noted that Severus knew he was being manipulated, but also suspected the older man really didn't mind all that much; sometimes it was just nice to let someone else take over.

After one final toast to the Snape-Potters, they'd left quickly back to their chambers. The rest of the guests had not stayed long afterwards and it was while Remus had been organising this excursion that he'd first noted his friend's depression. But he'd been distracted from finding out what was wrong. First there had been Kahealani and securing her mother's permission, then there was McGonagall telling anyone who would listen what a 'bad puppy' he'd been (and he swore if she said "I was just fortunate he didn't wee-wee on me," one more time, he'd hex her himself). Then there'd been the usual kerfuffle trying to get everyone in one booth--an impossible task especially since Hagrid took three spaces on his own.

When it became clear they would not all fit, with a great show of regret (genuinely made to Kahealani), Remus had pulled Moody to another table nearby, hoping to find out what was bothering his long-time friend. By the time they'd settled down, Moody was even more morose than when they'd left the castle. His mood had not improved with time and a pint.

Leaning over, he nudged Moody's shoulder with his own.

Moody stared straight ahead, but the magical eye slewed around and pinned him with its gaze. "What?" he asked exasperated.

"Hmmm, I was going to ask you why you looked so down, but now I guess I'll just have to ask why you're so pissed off?"

Moody turned his head to look at him. "I'm not either one. I'm both. Oh, I don't know." He nursed his second ale. "I'm disappointed, I guess."

Brows raised over his pint, Remus asked him why.

"I dunno. I had all these pranks planned, should have been fun--would've embarrassed the hell out of the auld sod. Harry would have laughed--always did like to make the boy laugh. And then we had to go rescue you lot and then there was that ceremony--bloody beautiful it was--and then they were gone. No time for anything. I guess that's what I'm upset with the most. The time. Always passing it is. Always planning. Rarely getting to do it. Most times it doesn't bother me--I don't get my hopes up--it's better that way. But tonight, well, I'd really looked forward to seeing his face. He would've murdered me. It would have been so fine."

Remus thought about it a minute. "Why does it have to be tonight? Wouldn't another night work?"

"Well the mayhem's supposed to be done on the wedding night, isn't it?"

"Maybe, but Severus right now is in no condition do to anything but sleep." He chuckled wickedly. "Hard on Harry, that. But he's a good lad, he'll wait." He had a brilliant thought. "Hey Moody, what were you planning on doing?" He took a big swig off his pint, the kernel of an idea forming to cheer them both up.

"I was going to place a Confundus spell on them both, Portkey Severus to one place and Harry to another, give them each a sickle, and tell them to find each other." His magical eye was wandering.

Remus threw his head back and laughed long. "Oh, we can't not do it!" he exclaimed as the occupants of the other table looked over at them, Kahealani smiling at him shyly. Nodding to her, he waved the rest of them off and when they turned their attention back to their conversations, he leaned in conspiratorially to Moody--"What else did you have in mind?"

The grin on Moody's face would have made it worthwhile, if for no other reason than he seemed cheered, but--Remus wanted to see the look on the auld sod's face, too.

End Part II
TBC in Part III : The Beginning of Forever