Much Ado about Nothing

Much Ado about Nothing


By: Max

[Disclaimer: see chapter 1]

Chapter 10: Greensleeves


“If one would have prophesized to me a year before that I’d do the decorations for Lucius Malfoy’s wedding, I’d send him straight to St. Mungo’s.” Hermione stood on the meadow in front of the school, just levitating a bouquet of purple roses and silver-green leaves on the capital of a pillar which was standing next to a row of chairs. Yet the bouquet didn’t want to stay where Hermione wished it. Whenever she tried to put it down, it kipped to one side. Now it fell again. Hermione jumped at it, caught it and cursed: “Shit!”

Albus, who was only two steps away from her, busy with conjuring a dance floor, grinned. “Language, Doctor Granger!” he scolded her amused. “Besides: It was you who played Cupid for your friend and Lucius. So you shouldn’t wonder you’re attending their wedding soon. But after marrying Severus and Tonks off last week, we’re practised in preparing weddings, aren’t we? We could perhaps make a second career with it, offering our service in the ‘Daily Prophet’. ‘Wicked Weddings Wizards - order us and we’ll get you a wedding you won’t forget for the rest of your life!”

Directing the hovering bouquet with her wand up again, Hermione sighed. “At least as a wedding planer no one would put me in green and silver robes!”

Albus had just changed the dance floor from wood to high polished marble. Sceptically he looked at Sebastian von Melanchthon who was working opposite to him at the musician’s stage.

Sebastian shook his head. “Too heavy, Headmaster. The ground is pretty soft after all the rain of the last week. If you want to keep it like that, we should probably cast a permanent levitating charm.”

Albus made a face. “I don’t think so,” he grumbled. “They have a tendency to wear off just at the wrong moment.”

“Besides marble is cold,” said Hermione. “I actually wouldn’t like to dance on it.”

“You rather dance on broken hearts?” Albus grinned.

Hermione had managed: The flowers were now on the pillar. Taking another bouquet - green ivy with roses - out of a basket, she looked at Albus. “In the green dress Molly makes me wear I won’t break a heart. Green really doesn’t suit me. I look like a seasick sailor in the thing.”

“Then you should wear a bucket to it …” Albus directed his wand at the already empty cradle which stood next to Hermione. Murmuring an incantation he changed it to a green bucket with a silver crest, showing a very sick looking sailor. “Do you need a chain for hanging it around your neck, Piccola?” he asked nicely.

“Minerva is right,” Hermione sighed. “You are sometimes an insensitive prick!”

“I’m a man.” Albus looked very amused. “But you’re not the only one who doesn’t like its wedding dress. You should have heard Lucius at the robe maker yesterday! He thinks he looks in red like a muggle telephone box.”

“Why will Hermione and Lucius wear colours they don’t like?” asked Sebastian.

“Green and silver are the Slytherin colours,” Hermione said wearily.

“And burgundy and gold stands for Gryffindor,” Albus explained. “As you know: The bride is a Gryffindor as all her family. Yet the bridegroom is a Slytherin - which makes for green and silver. And Molly Weasley, the dear mother of thede, de, is a very energetic lady. If she can’t prevent her daughter marrying a Slytherin, she wants the wedding done right which means: Her family has to demonstrate their acceptance for the bride’s choice in wearing the colours of the bridegroom. Hermione is counted as a member of the family - that makes for her looking like a seasick sailor.”

“And the bridegroom will wear Gryffindor colours,” Sebastian nodded.

“Right you are. All Slytherins involved in this wedding - that means Lucius and yours truly - will wear Gryffindor colours, looking like walking muggle telephone boxes. And …,” looking seriously at Hermione, Albus proceeded, “… I actually like this idea. It’s time we overcome the stilly house rivalry at last - and that’s a good step in the right direction.”

Hermione sighed. “You’re right, master - of course you are. But green nevertheless doesn’t suit me.” Suddenly she giggled. “I’d actually like to know what Molly did to Ron for wearing Slytherin colours.”

“I wouldn’t,” Albus said. “It certainly wasn’t legal.” He tipped his wand against his forehead, then he directed it again to the dance floor, making it hover two inches over the ground.

Hermione had the second bouquet on a pillar. Grinning at Albus, she said: “Wasn’t it you who blackmailed Molly into the agreement? And now you don’t want to know about Molly’s trick to convince Ron?”

“You think I could learn from her?” Albus smiled and changed the dance floor again - this time to glass. Wrinkling his forehead he concentrated, murmured another incantation and made flowers - purple roses and silver green leaves - appear under the glass. “How do you like that?” he asked Hermione and Sebastian.

“Nice - but in the evening one won’t see much of it,” Hermione commented his effort.

“And you need a permanent levitating charm,” Sebastian grinned.

Albus grumbled, thought for a moment, and then he changed the flowers to an image of the night sky with lighting stars.

“Oh, that’s lovely!” Hermione praised him.

Sebastian’s grin grew broader. “And then a few ladies with flimsy skirts … it will make for nice sights.”

Albus looked like a mischievous boy once again. “That’s worth a bit of effort, don’t you think?”

“It’s even worth to refresh the levitating charm once an hour,” Basti gave back.

“Men!” Hermione snorted and turned around to take the next bouquet out of the basked.

Albus and the young charm teacher only looked amused at each other. “You know, we actually don’t need a levitation charm,” Albus said then. “We can do it the muggle way in bracing the dance floor.”

“That’s brilliant!” the young charm teacher praised.

Albus grinned. “Of course it is. It’s an idea of mine.” He conjured five little blocks to brace the dance floor on them.

Hermione turned her eyes. “You know your modesty I always find overwhelming again.”

“I know, Piccola. It’s why you like me this much.” Albus bent down and shove one of the blocks in position. Sebastian did the same on the other side. But now the floor looked rather tilted. “Merda!” Albus commented it.

“Scheiße!” said his German colleague in the same moment.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “What was that?” she asked.

The both men looked innocently at each other.

“In my case it was German,” Basti said.

“And I spoke Italian,” Albus announced cheerfully. “You know I have a tendency to do so when distracted by other things - like the thoughts of your legs under a silken green skirt.”

Hermione shook her head, but couldn’t resist smiling by it. She never could resist the twinkle in Albus’ eyes and she was so glad it was back. Since the day she’d made him rest in the lab, their relationship - which had been more then only a little tensed after Christmas - had become more relaxed again. It still wasn’t back to the cheerful easiness and wonderful comradeship of their first summer together, but they were able to laugh with each other again and sometimes, for a few glorious moments, Albus showed even his charm again. It always made for Hermione feeling like she’d have swallowed a few bumblebees which were then practising ballet in her stomach.

In the weeks after Christmas she’d suffered. She’d hardly seen him and she hadn’t for a moment believed that he would be too busy for coming down to the lab. She had known that he avoided her and she’d felt miserable about it, thorn between a boiling rage and painful hopelessness. She’d often wanted to storm up to his office and to yell at him, she’d even sometimes when she’d seen him at meals in the great hall, talking politely with a colleague, wanted to shake him and to hear him laugh - it had made her almost cry. How could he laugh when she cried herself to sleep every night?

Yet the worse thing - even harder to bear than his laughter - at this time had been that she hadn’t understood herself anymore. Despite her anger about him, despite her disappointment, despite the awful occlumency lessons with Snape which always gave her headaches and made her almost hate Albus - she’d been always aware that she loved him. She’d fought against, she’d told herself 124 times a day that he didn’t want her love that he certainly didn’t deserve it, that she owned it to herself and her wounded pride to stop loving him, but she’d never - not even for a single second - managed. And even at the days she’d been almost bursting with rage about him, even after the lessons with Snape, she’d longed for the mealtimes because she’d known that she would at least see him there.

Sometimes in these days Hermione had taken refuge to cynicism. Albus loved Shakespeare and after he’d mentioned once that Beatrice out of “Much Ado about Nothing” was one of his favourite female characters - charmer as he was he’d of course immediately added that Hermione was another favourite of his - she’d read the play again. And there she’d found the quote which had seemed suiting her feelings for Albus perfectly well. Beatrice said there about becoming acquainted with a certain Benedick: “O Lord, he will hang upon him like a disease: he is sooner caught than the pestilence, and the taker runs presently mad. God help the noble Claudio! If he have caught the Benedick, it will cost him a thousand pound ere a\' be cured.”

Hermione had found that Albus - or better said: Her love for him - had become her Benedick. She’d caught “The Albus” - and it was a disease like the pestilence. She was running mad and she would have paid all the money she’d got with the Merlin Award without thinking twice if only it would have got her a cure against “The Albus”.

But there wasn’t a cure. Even research and reading - Hermione’s all time specialities - hadn’t helped. She’d spent almost three nights in reading herself through a huge pile of old issues from “Witch Weekly” - and they’d found Albus’ love life interesting even before he’d become Hogwarts Headmaster - in the futile attempt to convince herself, that she would never want to become No. 1126 on his long list of affairs. She’d told herself that he had been a womanizer all his and and that only woman without any self-respect came close to a man like him. But it didn’t help. Although she’d never had a one-night-stand herself, although Victor had been the first and only one in her bed - Hermione was no prude. She simply couldn’t bring herself to feel dismay about the fact that Albus obviously liked women and was liked by them. He’d been - Minerva who was actually Hogwarts resident prude had confirmed that - a faithful husband during his marriage. What he’d done before and afterwards while being single - Hermione actually would have felt more irritated if he’d acted like living in celibacy to the world. Despite her own lack of experience Hermione was well aware that sexuality was a part of human life. People denying their own sexuality or hiding it totally made her rather suspicious.

Besides: Albus was a mighty wizard - and as Hermione knew from her own experience: One’s magic was part of one’s personality. A strong witch was always a strong woman too and a sorcerer with the power and charisma of Albus was in no case a prudish wimp. Hermione had seen him fight and by that she’d seen the passion and the temper behind the disciplined calmness he normally showed the world.

Thinking about the man behind the wizard hadn’t exactly helped against “The Albus”. But now they were at least back not only on speaking, but even on laughing terms and although Hermione still didn’t believe the green robe Molly Weasley had chosen for her would suit her - it would be the dress in which she would dance again with Albus tomorrow and therefore she would at last afterwards love it.

*************************************

They knew what they were doing. Hermione saw it in their eyes as they looked at each other, speaking the oaths which bond them. Severus Snape had in this moment looked as if he’d faint and his bride had made the impression of some one completely overwhelmed. But Ginevra Weasley - beautiful Ginny in green and silver with her hair flooding down her back like an auburn wave of silk, lovely Ginny whose eyes held all the wisdom of womanhood - and Lucius Malfoy had stood then in front of old Ignatius Pemperton, proud and confident. They knew what they were doing and they wanted to do it.

For a moment they’d almost looked arrogant in the absolute confidence in which they claimed each other. But then, as Pemperton had said: “I proclaim you man and wife” and everybody had expected Lucius to kiss his new wife, the grey haired wizard had sunk his head and slowly, he’d went down on his knees in front of Ginny. He’d looked like a knight who’d came back from his conquest to lay the dragon’s head at the feet of his dame. And Ginny had bent down, cupped his cheek with both her delicate hands and then she’d kissed and it had looked as if she wouldn’t give only her love to him, but absolution for all his sins.

For a moment the meadow in front of the castle was entirely quiet. Even the birds seemed have to stop chirping. Hermione, fighting against tears, looked over the couple to Albus who stood at Lucius’ side, wearing a plain, but elegant burgundy robe with gold trimmings, his hair bent back in a neatly pony tail. A tear was running down his face, but he did nothing to stop it, but directed his eyes at Hermione. She meant to feel how the d wad was spinning at this moment and everything around her, Ginny, Lucius, the audience, even Hogwarts, became inexistent. Albus was looking at her and in his eyes she found heaven and hell, paradise and damnation, happiness and misery, life and death, everything which mattered, the very substance of her and his existence.

A sob and a woman’s cry “My baby! My sweet baby!” threw Hermione back at the world. She heard Arthur Weasley’s amused voice: “But Molly!” and saw how he laid his arm around his crying wife. Lucius raised up, taking Ginny’s hand and smiling at her, Ignatius Pemperton cleared his throat, called: “Let the feast begin!” and marched, as quick as his old feet could carry him, down the aisle and to the long table where the Hogwarts house elves waited to serve drinks and snacks. Ginny laughed a cheerful, loud and happy laughter and almost throw herself in Hermione’s arms, whispering: “And you’ll get your Slytherin too!”

Albus in the meantime hugged Lucius and turning around with his hand on the younger wizard’s shoulder, he said, his eyes twinkling: “I love weddings and I love being the best man because it allows me to kiss the bride and the bridesmaid.21; 21;

Lucius laughed. “So am I!” he said and took Hermione in his arms, hugging her for a moment tightly, before he blew a kiss on her forehead. “Thank you!” he whispered. “You’re a wonderful friend and I’m glad Ginevra’s got you.”

Hermione stood on her tiptand and kissed his cheek. “Make her happy, will you?” she gave back.

“I will!” Lucius didn’t let Hermione go, but turned her around, facing Albus who’d just laid his hands on Ginny’s waist, lifting her until she was on eye level with him and kissing her then soundly. “Congratulations, Mistress Malfoy! May you always be as happy as now!”

“Thank you, Headmaster.” Ginny giggled. “But don’t forget to kiss the bridesmaid!”

“As if I could forget such a pleasant task!” Albus put Ginny down on her feet and looked again at Hermione.

She actually expected him to hug her now, but he didn’t. He only la han hand on her shoulder and gave her a quick peek on the cheek. Yet he smiled his most charming smile at her and said: “By the way: I like you in Slytherin green. You look lovely.” Yet his gaze was alrediredirected at pillar where Ginny’s brothers and their wives had gathered, looking as if they were at a funeral. Especially Ron’s eyes were blazing and he’d balled his fists.

“Maledetto!” Albus whispered between gritted teeth. “Your friend Ron is the most pig headed idiot alive, Hermione!” He didn’t wait for an answer, but walked over to the young men, his back straight and his chin up.

Hermione sighed - and found herself suddenly in the tight embrace of Molly Weasley, who still cried. “Darling Hermione - you look so pretty! Almost like a bride yourself.” Pointing with her chin at Sebastian who stood - almost a bit lost because he didn’t know the people around him - only a few feet away, she whispered: “He looks very nice, your young man.”

“He isn’t my young man,” Hermione gave back. “He’s a colleague and friend, but he’s engaged to an enchanting German witch.”

Molly sighed disappointed. “What a pity! He would suit you. And you really should get yourself a nice man soon. Only …,” she sunk her voice, “… it wouldn’t have to be a Slytherin too.”

Hermione hugged her again. Molly Weasley had always been something like a second mother to her. “Molly, don’t worry too much. Ginny will be fine. Lucius adores her.”

Molly’s round face became soft. “I’d never thought I’d see a Malfoy on his knees once - and on his knees in front of a Weasley!”

“He wanted to show his adoration and love for your daughter,” Hermione said.

Next to her some one cleared his throat. Looking up, Hermione saw Ron, making a sheepish face. “Hello, genius,” he greeted her awkward. He obviously hadn’t forgotten the rather though dressing down he’d got from Hermione after his attack on Lucius.

Hermione grinned at him. “Hi, git!” she greeted back and hugged him. “Have you congratulated your sister already?”

He snorted. “I still don’t like that. I really don’t understand her. Why couldn’t she marry Harry?”

Hermione turned her eyes. “Because she doesn’t love him! And Harry doesn’t love her - or he wouldn’t have married Padma only two months after he and Ginny separated. So it’s time you come in use Ginny loving Lucius.”

Ron made a face and watched his new brother-in-law who was just talking with Arthur Weasley. “Dad says if he’s good enough for getting Dumbledore’s trust, he should be good enough for us too.” Ron dug the tip of his black shoe in the grass of the meadow. “Fred said this morning it could have come worse. Considered Ginny’s ghastly taste in men, she could have married Snape.”

Hermione laughed. “Tonks wouldn’t have liked that.”

“Uuuh!” Ron shook himself. “Don’t remind me of her! I’ve heard sheR wit with child.”

“Yes,” Hermione nodded. “And I don’t know why you look like you’ve smelled something rotten. I find it wonderful that Tonks gets a baby.”

“But …” he shuddered again and sunk his voice, “… this means that she must have slept with Snape! Even the idea of it makes me sick!”

“Oh Ron …” Hermione sighed. “Don’t you think it’s time you become an adult?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Say what you want, but to think of a Snapeling! I’m sure: He’ll crawl out of Tonks’ womb, sneering and taking points away from Gryffindor!”

“Of course! And as soon as he makes his first steps his father will buy him a black robe and then they’ll start to train the famous Snape-billowing-robe-march. We’re already all looking forward to the day we’ll get a mini bat sweeping through the Hogwarts halls.” Hermione giggled by the thought of it.

“And I look forward to the sorting of the mini bat.” Albus was behind Hermione again.

“I don’t think it will keep any surprises,” Ron said. “The Snapes are Slytherins since generations.”

“I’m not sure about the next Snape becoming a Slytherin too,” Albus answered. “Nymphadora was a Ravenclaw. And the last Ravenclaw-Slytherin mixture I remember was my grandniece Isabeau who became the first Dumbledore in Gryffindor since ages.”

“I’d like to see Severus’ face if his child would become a Gryffindor!” Hermione laughed.

Albus chuckled. “At this sorting we’ll keep Poppy Pomfrey at alert - with an oxygen cylinder. I only don’t know who’d need it most - Severus or Minerva.” Looking over where Ron’s girlfriend Pansy stood, just taking Ron’s two year old niece on her arm and wiping the little one’s nose with a handkerchief, Albus’ grin became broader. “A baby looks nice on Miss Parkinson, Ronald.”

Ron blushed and studied the tips of his shoes again. “We’re thinking about marriage and starting a family too,” he admitted awkwardly.

“Really? That’s nice.” Albus looked like the cat which just found an entire nest full of canaries. “Your new brother-in-law certainly will like that. He mustn’t feel as an outsider in the family then anymore. And Professor Snape will be delighted! These will double his chances to get a Weasley in his house in a few years.” While Ron almost fainted - he obviously hadn’t thought about his girlfriend being a Slytherin too - Albus took Hermione’s arm. “Dottoressa, Ignatius Pemperton asked to meet you. You know, he’s one of the members of the committee which will do your exam for the master ship,” he said and led her away.

Hermione was glad about. The look on Ron’s face had been too funny. As much as she liked him - she found that he’d deserved that. Nevertheless she rebuked Albus: “Sometimes you’re a true Slytherin. Poor Ron is in for a nightmare now! He’ll see himself surrounded by an entire herd of kids with Slytherin shawls, running through his house and screaming ‘Slytherin rules!’.”

Albus bent down to her. “I don’t think he’s got a chance to get Slytherins,” he whispered near to her ear. “Miss Parkinson’s elder siblings had all been Hufflepuffs and so was her mother. But to remind your friend that Ginevra isn’t the only family member in love with a Slytherin was simply irresistible.”

***********************************

As a school girl Hermione really hadn’t liked Slytherins and one of the reasons for that had been that she’d thought the entire lot of them arrogant and lacking manners. Yet on this day she learned that the generation of Slytherins she’d been with obviously hadn’t been typical for their house. Their predecessors - represented by Lucius and Albus - didn’t only possess manners, but charm and great social skills too.

Together they’d managed to get a wedding company which had been almost chilly at the start completely at ease and even in a cheerful mood. After dinner even Ron had managed to speak a few civil words to Lucius and as Albus - following Lucius’ wish to act as his ‘quasi-father’ - traditionally had opened the dance with Ginny her twin brothers had teased Lucius who’d laughed heartily about their jokes.

Now, four hours later, the feast was in full swing. The band that’d first played waltz and other traditional dances had changed to modern tunes and the beauty of the dance floor Albus had created couldn’t become appreciated any more because it was so crowded that the dancers could hardly see their own feet.

Hermione who’d danced all evening - with Arthur and Lucius and Ron and George and Fred and Sebastian and Bill and even Percy and Lucius again - who’d complained because his brothers-in-law always threw his wife out of his arms for dancing with her themselves - and even once with Ignatius Pemperton - had found it already too crowded and too loud. Therefore she’d sat down on one of the benches near by, looking at the cheerful crowd. Sebastian she’d lost half an hour ago - he’d landed himself on the table where Molly, Poppy and Alastor sat. And they obviously tried to give him a crash course on the subject of British wizardry in the last 50 years.

Hermione didn’t mind. For once she knew that her friend and eagueague liked to hear such stores and besides she was glad to be a moment of her own. As often in the middle of a feast she’d suddenly felt lonely. As nice as it was to be surrounded by friends and as much as the complete Weasley family had shown her that she was seen as a member of the clan - this feast was a celebration of love and so it was inevitable that Hermione had become aware of the fact that she later would lay alone in her bed. And even worse: The one she wished to have next to her had danced only one waltz with her, but he’d kept on distance by doing so, not once looking in her eyes. And now he seemed to have disappeared. Last time she’d seen him he’d flirted with a dark-haired friend of Molly who’d obviously been quite taken with him. Much to Hermione’s dismay she’d laid a hand with fire-red polished nails on his arm and had - with batting her eyelashes as if she’d like to offer him her heart, hand and the free place in her bed - asked him to show her the “famous Hogwarts green houses”.

Hermione had almost choked on her wine and she’d been glad for Lucius who’d stood next to her, whispering: “Hopefully he keeps his wand at the ready. By the sight of her décolletage the meat-eating daisies will become hungry!” Seeing the look in Hermione’s eyes, he’d laid a hand on her shoulder: “Don’t worry. Her tits aren’t good enough to make up for her lack of brain. Dumbledore’s got some taste!”

At the moment Hermione wasn’t so sure about. It had been at least one hour since she’d seen him last and she’d become jealous and miserable since then. Perhaps he was just snogging the silly witch between the mandrakes and the poisonous ivy? Hermione could imagine it - and she wished fiercely, that the ivy would get at him, sneaking under his robe, climbing up his legs and …

“Swish!”

She heard a rustle of wings and saw something black and white falling down from the sky, landing in front of her. With the wings still half raised a beautiful falcon with a white chest and black and white coloured wing feathers looked up on her, twinkled once and changed to a tall wizard in a burgundy robe. Raising his hands, Albus opened the ribbon which held his hair back and shook his head. His silver mane fell loosely over his shoulders, the light of the moon shimmering in it.

“What you’re doing here all on your own, Piccola? Tired?” he asked.

“Only a bit thoughtfully,” Hermione answered, not looking up at him. She still had the image of him and this dark-haired witch in her mind.

Albus sat down next to her. “At least you’re not drunk - or are you? Old Pemperton was - to quote him - ‘pished as a rat’.” He chuckled. “I’m afraid he’ll sleep for a week on the sofa. His wife who’d stayed at home because of migraine - though I’d actually rather name her sickness a severe case of mutual Molly Weasley dislike - wasn’t too happy about the serenade we were singing for her in front of her house.”

“You did what?” Hermione grinned at him. She suddenly felt much better.

“I apparated him home. He’d have probably splinched if he’d have tried on his own,” Albus told. “But as we were in his garden, Pemperton insisted we sing his wife’s favourite tune. And so we did …” smiling at her, he proceeded: “Actually - it suits you much better as Mistress Pemperton …” The band had just paused. Albus took this as his chance and began to sing: “Alas, my love, you do me wrong, to cast me off discourteously. For I have loved you well and long, delighting in your company …”

Hermione had sometimes before heard him hum, but she couldn’t remember he’d ever sung. Yet his voice - a smoky warm baritone - was nice and his cheerful mood - as always - infecting. And to know that he hadn’t snogged in the green house, but got an old man back home - Hermione felt like singing herself and so she joined him for the chorus: “Greensleeves was all my joy, Greensleeves was my delight, Greensleeves was my heart of gold, and who but my lady greensleeves.”

Suddenly there was more music - the band had obviously heard them and accompanied their singing now, their singer taking over.

Albus raised and gripping Hermione’s hand pulled her on her feet. “Let’s dance!” Yet he didn’t lead her to the dance floor which filled now again, but swept with her in his arms in the rose garden. And this time he didn’t keep her on distance, but laid his arms around her waist, holding her close while he still sang: “Oh, why did you so enrapture me? Now I remain in a world apart, but my heart remains in your captivity …”

Hermione couldn’t help herself. She’d longed all evening to be close to him and now he was there and she felt the warmth of his body through the silk of his robe and she smelled his unique fragrance and her hands were on his shoulders, his hair falling over them. Her body seemed to take over, leaning closer to him, craving for as much contract as possible.

“Albus …” Had she only thouor ior in fact said his name?

He stopped singing, looking down on her. She felt as she would lose herself in his eyes and she wanted this moment, this wonderful, enchanted moment would never end. But then she heard his voice again, not more then a hoarse whisper: “Tesoro - ti desiderio!” His mouth was on her lips and claimed her in a passionate kiss, his tongue deman ent entrance, his hands gliding down her back, cupping her buttocks and pressing her against him. Hermione felt something solid poking at her belly. He was aroused and oh sweet Merlin - he was huge and rock hard and she wanted so much to touch him. There was suddenly an aching emptiness between her legs and a need she’d never felt before. She’d been kissed before, but never had it been like this kiss, never had it meant so much, never had a mouth on hers set her so in flames.

But then he broke the kiss and pushed her away, almost brutal. She stumbled and it was only his hand on her elbow which kept her from falling. But he throw the hand away immediately after she’d found her feet again.

“I’m sorry, Hermione - I’m so terribly sorry!”

Through the haze of arousal and disappointment she heard his hoarse voice.

“Forgive me. I know I shouldn’t have done that.”

Hermione made a step forward to him and raised her hand. She wanted to touch him, to show him that he hadn’t to apologize, that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. “Albus …”

“No!” He backed away, his hands shaking, a look of pure panic in his eyes. “Please, Hermione - don’t touch me.”

“Albus ..,” she tried again.

He didn’t seem to hear her. Sinking his head, he quietly said: “I can’t deny it. I ...,” he sounded as if he’d need all his willpower to form the words, “… harbour feelings for you which are …,” he breathed deeply, “… entirely wrong and utterly inappropriate. You’re so young and you’re my apprentice and I’m responsible for you and I’m not allowed to think of you like I do. I’m ashamed of what I’ve done; I’m ashamed of what I’ve become …”

“Albus!” Hermione tried to interrupt him.

He didn’t give her a chance to talk to him. “Please, Hermione. Whatever you think or feel at the moment - don’t say it. Don’t make it worse. I’ve lost my dignity already …”

*************************************

“And then?” Ginevra Malfoy fidgeted in impatience. Turning around on her belly, she looked at her best friend who sat in her bed, her arms around her knees, a dreamy expression on her face. “What did he do then? My, Hermione - making you tell the entire story really is like pulling teeth!”

“He changed in his animagnus form and took flight,” Hermione said. “And I was so afraid he’d come in trouble with the wind whirls over the roofs again, agitated as he was …”

“Obviously he’s learned his lesson,” stated Ginny. “He looked a bit pale and tired this morning, but not like he’s suffering from broken bones again.”

“No, he isn’t. He didn’t fly to the tower. I heard him two hours after our encounter coming up the stairs in his human form,” Hermione told.

“And how was he as you met him next?” Ginny demanded to know.

Hermione sighed. “As I’ve expected it: Distant, very distant in fact. He hardly dared to look at me and he only talked business. Yet he isn’t as cold as he was around Christmas. I think he’s still ashamed.”

“Poor man!” Ginny said sympathetically. “He probably suffers like hell. Lucius says during the war - in the last months I mean as he was already on our side - he sometimes was afraid of Albus breaking down because he’s too sensitive for his own good. And he’s an honourable man. Falling in love with his apprentice is hardly something he can take easy. But …,” she smiled at Hermione, “you know finally: He loves you.”

Hermione chewed on her bottom lip. “I’m not so sure about that. He didn’t say he loves me. He said ‘Ti desiderio’.”

“And that means?” Ginny asked. “You know, I don’t know Italian.”

“It means ‘I want you’. ‘I love you’ would be ‘Ti amo’.”

Ginny laughed. “Learning Italian, Hermione?”

Hermione grinned a bit wearily. “One never knows when it will come in handy. Besides: I’d like to get a job at the Cagliostro University, so I’d need Italian.”

“I don’t believe you need these terms there,” Ginny said amused. “Besides: If I were you I certainly wouldn’t leave Hogwarts after the apprentice ship. I’d made laying the headmaster my next project.”

Now it was Hermione who was giggling. Stretching her legs, she looked at Ginny. “What do you think I’m planning? But I know Albus a bit now. If I’d stay at Hogwarts he wouldn’t stop seeing me as his apprentice. I’ll have to become a transfiguration mistress and a fully fledged professor at a University before he learns that I’m not a child anymore, but an adult woman he can sleep with without feeling like a dirty old man. As your dear husband stated so cleverly: Albus sometimes is a bit too sensitive for his own good. And too honourable.” She looked over to the clock on the mantelpiece. “By talking about your husband: As much as I enjoy your visit - shouldn’t you be with him? You’re only three days married …”

“… and the old man - as Lucius named himself at dinner - is already entirely groggy.” Ginny grinned. “He didn’t get much sleep this weekend and now, after suffering the teasing and grinning of his students and colleagues all day, he was in dire need for a few hours of undisturbed rest before I’ll jump next time on him.”

“Ginevra Malfoy!” Hermione nudged her friend with her elbow. “You will be the man’s death!”

“So he keeps saying. But I think it will be at last a nice death. But coming back to your love life: I’m pretty sure Albus loves you.”

“Why?” Hermione wanted to know. “Another suggestion of your clever Slytherin husband?”

“Huuh! I don’t need Lucius to do all thinking for me,” Ginny protested. “I stall can do a bit of myself. But however I try: I can’t think of anything than love to make the headmaster lose control.”

“Lust? Desire? Need?” Hermione folded her arms behind her head. Blushing a bit, she said: “He was aroused - very much so. I felt it …”

“Did he have an erection?” Ginny had always been more straight forward as Hermione.

Hermione became as red as ripe tomato. “Hmm,” she nodded. “And …” she swallowed, “… not a small one. It felt very hard and huge.”

“Whow!” Ginny grinned. “Isn’t it nice to know that your Slytherin is well-equipped and fully functional too?”

“Actually I’ve never doubted that,” Hermione said dryly. “But you’re right: It’s nice to know. Nevertheless it made me think about his feelings for me …”

Ginny shook slowly her head. “Hermione, my dear, you’re sometimes a bit naïve - at least when it comes to sex. You actually know yourself that your hopefully-soon-to-be-lover doesn’t lack chances to get some one taking his broomstick out for a ride. Just think of my mother’s friend Mary-Sue Connors. She was all day after Albus like the bear after the honey pot. If he’d only have been in need for a quick roll in the hay he could have had her at any moment. She’d been delighted about shagging him in the next dark corner. And even if he simply would have wanted something more fresh than this boiling fowl - he’s a Slytherin, sweetie! They get their member ship in the “Saucy Sorcerer’s club’ at the day they get their first real hard on. And there they can work themselves through the entire catalogue from young to experienced, from bony to lush, in Hogwarts’ uniform and in leather without anyone ever outside ever being the wiser and without any complications afterwards.”

Hermione had got eyes like saucers. “You don’t believe Albus is a regular in a brothel?”

Ginny laughed. “I can hardly imagine - why should he pay for something he can get for free? But he certainly knows how he can get sex without complications. So why should he get himself in trouble with his apprentice? Forgive me for being blunt, Hermione, but you’re pretty and you certainly have sex appeal, but you’re not so breath taking your body would make a man like Albus Dumbledore forget about his principles. The only explanation for him kissing you and for him becoming aroused by dancing with you is that he’s totally, entirely, madly, deeply, passionately and utterly in love with you.”

Hermione swallowed. “I hope very, very much you’re right because …” she looked seriously at Ginny, “I love him, Gin. I’m totally, entirely, madly, deeply, passionately and utterly in love with him. I’d give up everything for him - even my work. If He’d asked me to go with him to a lonely island for the rest of my life - I’d pack without thinking twice about it. And you know what, Ginny?” Once again her voice became dreamy. “He’s an incredible kisser. I never knew before why people are so keen on necking. I actually never liked it much. But with Albus …”

Ginny giggled. “You suddenly understood what ‘melting away in a kiss’ means?” She sighed. “You know, when Lucius kissed me first time passionately I thought I’d get an orgasm just from his kiss. I literally jumped on him then …”

“So I felt too,” Hermione confessed. “I wouldn’t have mind shagging him senseless just on the next bench in the rose garden. I never felt like that before …”

“That’s one reason more to catch him,” Ginny grinned. Rolling on her side, she tugged at Hermione’s hair. “What’s your plan then?”

Hermione hesitated. Rummaging with both hands in her hair, she said: “It feels wrong, Ginny. I mean to plan something like that. Cunning and scheming as if Albus would be an enemy I want to defeat.”

“Oh my!” Ginny patted her friends arm. “You’ve got it really bad! But how do you think I’ve got Lucius? It was hard work and I’m not sure I would have succeeded without my stupid brother.” She giggled. “But you should have seen dear Ron’s face as I thanked him! It was priceless! I told him that without his intervention Lucius probably wouldn’t have found the courage to propose. He was on one of this ‘I atone for my sins in becoming the perfect martyr’-trips Slytherins are so fond of. It was sometimes maddening. But thank Ron we got over it.”

“Poor Ron!” Hermione chuckled.

“He deserves a bit suffering, brat as he is. But your Slytherin martyr - what do you intend to do about him?” Ginny asked seriously.

“Hmm …” Hermione sat up again, bracing her chin on her knees. “At the moment I can’t do much. I mean …”, she chewed on her bottom lip for a few seconds before she proceeded: “I’m almost sure: I could lay him if I’d set my mind to it. I would get him in bed. But I don’t believe it would do much good - neither to me nor to him.”

“You’re unfortunately right,” Ginny agreed. “He’d feel so lousy afterwards he wouldn’t come close to you again. But considered that you still have a year of your apprentice ship left, this could become damn ghastly.”

Hermione nodded. “Therefore I think I’ll lay low for the time being. I don’t want him to suffer and if he really loves me he will still do so after my exam.”

“But then you’ll go after him, won’t you?”

Hermione laughed. “And how, Ginny! I assure you: At the moment he’ll set me free, the hunt will be on. And I won’t stop before I’ve got him.”

“For good?” Ginny’s eyes were beaming. “I mean he’s a bit older then you, but who cares? Lucius is 35 years my senior too. And for Albus - the Dumbledores are a though lot.”

Hermione suddenly looked a bit worried again. “He’s the last of the Dumbledores, isn’t he?”

“Yes,” Ginny nodded. As always she was perfectly informed. “But that’s only because of the wars. His sister fell in the fight against Grindelwald. His brother was killed by Voldemort. Despite that the Dumbledores were always becoming very old - and in good health and with their marbles all on the right place. My great-grandfather was at school with Artus Dumbledore - Albus’ father. And he told me once about the uproar as Albus’ grandfather died.” She giggled. “He’d been minister of magic and chief warlock of the wizengamot too and as an old man he was as venerable as venerable can go - so at least people thought until he died from a heart attack in the ripe age of 202 in the ‘Saucy Sorcerer’s club’ where he’d just entertained himself with not only one, but two ladies. And it was said he’d really died during an orgasm - what’s actually a rather nice way to leave this world, don’t you think?”

“Hmm.” Hermione looked rather sceptically. “I suppose the lady involved didn’t see it like that.”

“Probably,” Ginny admitted. “Nevertheless it shows that the old man was rather spryly for his age. And Albus’ father actually was too …”

“Don’t tell me he died in a brothel too!” Hermione turned her eyes.

“Oh no, he didn’t,” Ginny said. “He was a very devoted husband, you know. Yet he didn’t die in her arms, but - in the age of 194 - by falling from his broomstick. In his youth he’d been a quidditch champion, you know?”

Hermione shook her head. “One could think being eccentric runs in the family …”

“But of course it does!” Ginny shoved one of Hermione’s pillows in her back and made herself comfortable. “My great-grandfather said Albus would be pretty sensible for being a Dumbledore. He found him even a bit boring compared to the rest of the family. Albus’ brother Aberforth for example …”

“Wasn’t he the one who was once in trouble because of something inappropriate done to a goat?” Hermione asked, shuddering slightly. “Albus mentioned it once - and he seemed rather calm about.”

It nIt needs more then goat trouble to make a Dumbledore fidget,” Ginny grinned. “Besides: The goat trouble was kind of a misunderstanding. My great-grandfather and Aberforth were friends, so he knew in detail about the story.”

“Let me guess,” Hermione grinned. “The goat was in fact another family member in its animagnus form?”

“No, no,” Ginny laughed. “It was a Christmas gift for Albus. Aberforth was always rather fond of goats and so he came once to the idea of giving one of his goats as a gift to Albus. Because it should become a surprise and Albus was at this time living in the mansion too, Aberforth took the goat with in his bedroom for making her look like gift. Yet he wasn’t as good in transfiguration as Albus or …” Ginny grinned from one ear to the other, “… perhaps it was a by product of his rather one track mind, but what he conjured as ribbons around the goat’s leg looked very much like a womanR sus suspender - in red lace. Just at the moment as he’d tied one of the things around the goat’s rear leg, his this-time girlfriend who obviously was a silly cow walked in. Seeing him with the goat she got the jitters, suspecting him of cheating on her with it …”

Hermione laughed with tears running down her face. “A goat with garters - as a Christmas gift! The Dumbledores are gaga!”

“Of course they are,” Ginny stated. “But isn’t it n It It makes sure you’ll never become bored with the Dumbledore you’re to get.”


To be continued …