Chapter 3

He had told Lucius and the others at his house he was going for a walk to collect specimens, it worked everytime and he found himself alone, slipping through the Malfoy perimeter and into the field following the setting sun. It had been raining all day and dew on the tall grasses absorbed into his old robes so he discarded them and kept walking. He stood on a slight elevation and watched the sun winking and disappearing below the horizon and then he felt it. Warm soft fingers, light and insistent as the wind, caressing his arms, neck and face, his chest, pushing up his shirt and pushing at his trousers, sliding around his waist and stroking him. He stopped, holding out his arms, to catch his breath and apparated as he was compelled; he knew, and hoped he would remember, how the Dark Lord did this magic wrong in comparison.

He appeared in a field not unlike the one he had left; he maintained his direction and saw a hill ahead of him and a wood beyond. He continued.

Every blade of grass, every stem, leaf, and insect was outlined by a glow. He bent to tall grasses and watched them pulse with the same rhythm as his heartbeat; they were so alive. He stopped to admire a tree, geometric shapes whirling in the bark. He rested his hand upon it and the surface constricted and squeezed as every molecule tried to make contact with him. As he pulled his hand away, the bark arched every so slightly to keep contact with him and he stroked the tree that responded, arching and stretching, as Narcissa's cat did in his lap.

As Narcissa herself had once done, and rewarded him with many of her friends as well. He wasn't much to look at but he was a good sport. Perhaps this was the source of his selection as Air? He believed in the experience entirely and the simplicity of doing it well. He didn't love Narcissa and she didn't love him- he was at the Malfoy's over the Christmas holiday and she was bored. They had a great time and Lucius made them promise not to do it again - they wouldn't.

The memory of making love to those young women coincided with renewed attention from the whisper fingers and he removed his shirt. He continued toward the hill. It should have been much colder than he felt but the unseasonably green grasses were generating heat.

Fat, lazy bumblebees rose drunkenly out of the grasses only to descend on new flowers. Crickets hopped and butterflies glided. My goddess, they were loud. Not the butterflies, but everything else, like Oxford Circus but pleasant. The chirping of the crickets and the buzzing of the bees to the crunching of tiny insects over soil and vegetation. And out of the wood he heard a rhythm, maybe drums? They directed him to the hill.

And the stars. So many of them, more than he had ever seen and a few fluffy clouds to make them seem brighter. There was no moon that he could see but the night was very brightly lit as each bright star was outlined with a glow. The concave, violet sky looked very close, as though he could reach up and knock the stars out of it. He continued through very tall grasses lifting his legs as though he were running hurdles. He succumbed to the insistent fingers and removed the last of his clothing. He was half erect and the fingers kneaded his back, neck, and ass, lightly stroking his penis. He saw rings of smoke rising from the western forest and carried on the breeze he heard laughter, singing, and more drums.

I wonder.

At the foot of the hill he scooped a handful of water to drink from a puddle and instinctively pulled from its surface his mask. The mask was attached flush to his hairline and dripped down his neck, he did not feel it harden but knew it was in place until he decided to remove it. As he climbed the hill he passed through low clouds that cloaked his nakedness. He turned once to look out over the valley through which he'd walked seemingly for days but it was obscured by the clouds.

He walked through woods that had been bare at the foot of the hill but were experiencing an accelerated season. Branches swelled and green buds tumbled out giving rise to flowers then leaves, their colors distinguishable by the candle-like quality of the fireflies and starlight. The moon was no longer obscured by clouds, it was waning but overly bright and swollen casting stark shadows. The air had a soupy quality and he ran his arms through it.

They all stepped into the clearing at the top of the hill simultaneously, toes bending crisp blades of grass at the same moment and they stepped onto the large flat rock, roughly the same measurements as the room he had shared at Hogwarts. They walked slowly towards each other and here Severus felt his first personal feeling since he left anticipation on Malfoy property.

He was curious about the one Eostre had chosen for him and as he looked south, his eyes met fire and he knew.

All doubt he experienced as a result of identification as east were put to rest. He loved her purely, there was nothing else he needed to know. Calm settled over him and he knew what to do... He had been chosen to lead.