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The Gloaming of the Gods	By : Gracelynn Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 1678 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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The landscape of his dream was very like the day the rain came, except a sweet breeze blew and the tall grasses bent to meet him, tickling the tops of his naked thighs.

He came to the tree and looked up and into the depths of it. He put his hand on a low limb and felt the rough stillness of it, and he began to climb. Branch after rising branch, he climbed and was enshrined in the cool shadows of its foliage: a king in his verdant sepulcher.

Finally the branches grew thinner and swayed gently under his weight. He stopped climbing and saw an apple just before him. It was a ripe green, and so round it looked as though it would burst from its fullness. He stretched out an arm and wrapped his fingers around the fruit.

~~**~~**~~

The waking Albus followed a soft clicking the next day, along the upper hallway until he stood at the open door of a bedroom. Freya was seated before a large loom placed so that she could look out to the fields while she worked. She moved the wooden pin deftly through the separate strands and pulled them rhythmically into place.

He cleared his throat to make her aware of his presence, and felt the smile she gave him down to the arches of his feet.

"What are you making?"

"I'm not entirely certain. A blanket, or tapestry perhaps."

She looked at his expression and explained, "The fabric seems to shape itself at times."

"It is lovely. Where did you learn to weave?"

"My mother taught me. As soon as I could walk she put me beside her with wool from the sheep we kept, and I would card it while she spun it into yarn."

The morning sun slanted into the room. It was already a hot day. She rubbed the side of her hand against the small beads of moisture that had gathered on her forehead, and he watched her. He wanted to run his hands up her bare arm and under her sleeve, and follow his hands with his mouth. He would run his lips lightly up the golden skin and bring them to rest at that damp spot behind her ear.

She looked at him over her shoulder and he saw the way her eyes seemed to widen, to spread when she looked at him. He knew then as he ached to touch her but did not. Knew as clearly as he knew his own name that he would never again want anything or anyone as much as he wanted this woman.

~~**~~**~~

He lay wake that night, hands folded behind his head, watching the shadows made by the single flickering candle play on the ceiling. The sheet, already limp from the heat, tangled around his body and twisted under his long wiry legs.

All the sounds of the house had quieted finally, and its very dormancy was usually like a calming draught to him. Tonight his body would not take its rest, though, and his mind wandered along many paths. Down quiet halls with a brown haired midwife of his new dreams. Along the curve of an arm, and twining threads curling back upon themselves to create a beautiful fabric.

Faintly, like an echo of his own heartbeat, he heard soft footsteps, and his pulse pounded out its own new rhythm even while the deep parts of him had known they would come all along. They were like a half-dreamt memory and Albus surrendered to it, knowing that to resist or even to rationalize was futile.

When he had found her at the end of that hallway and she had appeared to him like one of the Fates, weaving together the fabric of destiny, he had known that this was beyond question or decision. There was no decision at all. It was the same force that pulled at the sea and made the waters lap at the shore.

Freya crept quietly through his door, and her eyes held his like two green beacons. She stood in her long thin nightdress and bare feet, watching his face, until finally he laid his hand palm up on the bed and inhaled deeply.

She walked slowly to the bed and sat on the edge so that her hip touched his.

"Tell me, " she whispered, "tell me that you feel this too."

He took up a strand of her unbound hair and curled the end around his finger.

"I do."

She traced the edge of his jaw and then pressed lightly along his cheekbones.
"This is something more than desire."

His callused hand ran warmly up the side of her arm, and she shivered.

"Yes."

Her trailing fingers brushed lightly along his chest. They left a trail of gooseflesh over the ridges of his stomach. She looked back up into his eyes, into the clear blue of them, and watched them darken to the color of twilight.

"We be of one soul, thou and I," she quoth softly.

Albus sat up straighted, wd, with one hand cupping the back of her head, he pulled her to him, never leaving the smoky depths of her eyes until his mouth covered hers and he knew nothing but the feel of her.

His hands dipped gently through the gap of her gown, pulling buttons loose as they went, until the soft cotton fell away completely. When he spread his hands over theong ong length of her back and pulled her warm, damp skin up against his own she sighed, and he caught it on his tongue.

He lay back so that she was on him and above him, and he touched her soft belly and her full, round thighs. Her body was like an ancient goddess, made to beget life unto life, shaken and piled up. He worshipped it with the tips of his fingers, brushing long hair away from her breasts and tracing the faint blue veins. His breath hitched as she gasped. One of his hands stroked downward from her chin; down her throat, between her breasts, down to the heat of her, and when she trembled his own limbs began to shake.

He pulled her down and turned her, covering her body with his own. She arched against his questing mouth, and he placed open, wet kisses along her collarbone before moving down, down until she was sure she would die from the heat. Her grasping limbs pulled him to her and beseeched him until gently, with misty eyes, he filled her. Then there was only the swallowing of each other's breath and the pull and wonder of love.
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The Gloaming of the Gods