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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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How elastic time can seem when measured by the sweetness between lovers. Those days seemed both to fly away like flocks of birds and to stretch out indefinitely. They held the fullness of each day in their hands, and it seemed the most perfect gift of peace and sleeplessness. The daylight was marked by honest labor and learning by both, and the nights devoted to discovering and storing away each other's secrets.

He whispered in her ear in every language he knew. He described her breasts in Latin, her hair in Gaelic, her belly and thighs in Hebrew. He told her he loved her in screeching Mermish, and her laughter became the music to their dance. Such a slow, sweet dance to the rhythm of love and time itself.

As if by some instinct, they stuck to small things. The hollow at the base of a throat. A perfectly formed blossom by the side of a well-trodden path. Single whispered confidences piled up like berries. The only promises given were the breathless words of tomorrow.

~~**~~**~~

The two lovers lay hidden from the world between two banks, where the grasses and weeds whispered back and forth in the slight breeze. Freya lay with her head on his chest, idly tracing patterns on his flesh. Her fingers found the cliff of his ribcage, and she moved her head down to place small kisses there.

"This then, is where they took part of you and used it to fashion me."

Albus smiled down at her, and at her hair strewn messily over his sides and upper arms.

"Out of one rib?"

"And the earth, of course. Good clean dirt."

Her eyes laughed at him, playful and luminous, and he chuckled softly before shifting so that he pinned her gently to the ground. He ran light fingers along her sides and she choked and gasped.

"Albus! Stop, you know that tickles!"

He gave no reply, but started to hum against her squirming torso, feigning oblivion to her giggles.

"Oh�stop. Stop or I'll hex you!"

"My dear woman, " he said with dignity, "you do not stand a chance on that account. And I believe you know it. You should never make threats you have no intention of carrying out."

"What about a promise, then?"

"Hmm�you mean a bribe. I suppose I might be swayed by a particularly tempting offer."

He dropped a kiss on her belly and began to hum again.

"What is that tune?"

He looked up at her again. "Raglan Road. A song every Irishman sings at one point or another when he has been too deep in his cups."

"But you have had no wine at all this evening. What is your excuse?"

"I am drunk on other things." He began to sing against her skin, and the tiny vibrations shivered in streams down her skin and all the way to her thighs.

"�I saw her and I knew�that her dark hair would weave a snare�that I might one day rue�"

His mouth skimmed down her hipbone and her breath caught somewhere deep in her throat.

"I saw the danger and I passed�along the enchanted way�" His head came up from its new position, a certain serious shadow in his eyes.

"And I said�Let grief be a falling leaf�at the dawning of the day."

She held his gaze for a moment before, with suddenly bright eyes, she said softly, "I think you are teasing me, Albus Dumbledore. Why don't you finish what you started?"

They came together in a tangle of limbs and hair. He traced the ridges of her teeth with his tongue, and whispered, "You smell like lemons. And like rain."

Her mouth moved against his ear. "And you of sunshine. We are a well matched pair."

~~**~~**~~

As summer turned gracefully in its skirt of lengthening shadows to shorter days and longer nights, all could sense the quickening around them. As Freya walked daily through the fields to the nearby Magi's hut, she almost thought she could feel the very pulse of the earth picking up pace beneath the soles of her feet. More often as she sat watching the moon rise with Albus a furrow appeared in the skin between his brows and he gazed for long stretches at the dark line of the forest. The Magi spent more time atop their stone dais, studying the stars and burning incense. She watched closely the pattern of the curling, perfumed smoke as well, and her eyes grew more solemn as they turned against her will to the myriad pinpoints of light that mapped out the deep dark of the night sky.

Freya looked down from her bedroom window one evening to the courtyard and caught sight of the figure that her fingertips had roamed over nightly, memorizing every texture and angle. He sat cross-legged between the gap in the wall, looking out over the fields and beyond that the forest. His back was to her, but she could read the intensity of his concentration in the line of his shoulders and neck.

She moved down the stairs, dropping each foot slowly to the step below as if she could create small earthquakes in them with her weight.

The moon was bright this night and the landscape seemed suspended in a crystal. She moved carefully to stand behind him and followed his gaze to the forest. Flashes of muted silver appeared as the light caught expanses of many shapes moving through the trees. She shivered at the spectral sight, and at the movement Albus turned his face up to look at her.

"What is that in the forest?"

"The centaurs are moving."

Freya looked again at the moving figures and discerned the glossy coats moving in ripples of muscle and sinew. An arm here, a tail catching the light there.

"Why are they moving, Albus?"

He looked away, back over the fields. "I'm not certain. Centaurs do not move like this with out a very pressing reason, however." He paused and she watched him flex his fingers. "I need to go out to them and see what they will tell me."

"Go to them? But Albus�what makes you think the centaurs will speak of it with you?"

He stood and turned to her, cupping her chin in his palm. He held for for a moment with his eyes and smiled softly.

"Trust me, Freya." His lips brushed lightly over her forehead. "I will come back to you before morning."

She watched him until he disappeared in the edge of the trees, and jumped when a voice spoke from the bench behind her.

"Do not worry so, my dear. Albus will be fine."

She walked over to Nicholas and sat beside him on the smooth stone.

"But aren't centaurs hostile to humans?"

Nicholas chuckled quietly. "Another human, probably, but not Albus. He has been among them before. They have marked him, you know."

"Marked him?" she asked in alarm, thinking of the warm flesh she had explored in detail, and remembering no mark on it.

He took her hand firmly in his own and patted it kindly. "Not marked him physically. No, I mean that they have identified him as one of the beings alluded to in the stars."

Freya stared at him for a moment before turning her head pensively to the forest.

"I see."

~~**~~**~~

He crept in to her room just as the gray fingers of dawn were beginning to stretch across the sky. He slipped under the blankets and curled his long frame around the curve of her back. They lay that way for awhile, she marking time pass by the puffs of his breath against her neck, and he by the rise and fall of her ribcage beneath his hand.

Freya knew that she would be the first peakpeak; that the first move was hers. Just as it was hers to come to his room that first time so many nights ago, so was it now to push across the chasm from the suspended chrysalis that had been this period of time together toward the new reality before them. For she had no doubt that a change had been wrought during the dark hours she had lain awake. So she paused in this space of breath-measured time to gather herself, then moved her arm and brought her hand to lay on top of his.

"Albus?"

He took a deep breath behind her, taking time to fill his lungs and empty them again. Then he kissed her head and began to speak.

"The centaurs are on the move because of the signs they have read in the stars. They are headed deep into the forest, the vast parts, where humans never go."

His thumb made light circles against her skin. "They are removing themselves, as far away from the race of men as possible, because they have seen the coming of what they call Ragnarok."

Freya inhaled sharply. "The dusk of the gods."

"They have told me that the world of men is building to an explosion."

"When?"

"They foresee two dark powers to rise, with the second as the wolf, and the final struggle split into two wars by a period of false calm."

He paused and she could feel his next words waiting heavily in the silence. "They say it will come to pass in my lifetime."

Freya closed her eyes. "And you, Albus?"

"What of myself?"

"Albus�neither of us gives credence to coincidence. It will be a Gotterdammerung. And they have marked you. But for what part?"

"That is less clear."

They lay there in the gray calm, in the birthing of a new day, and looked down the long tunnel of the future together. The fates were coy, though, and would not share their secrets. She turned in his arms and rose above him. He looked at the firm, stubborn line of her jaw and hoped that he would never see it falter, though the cities and temples of mankind should crumble to nothing. Then she kissed him, and they put their solemn thoughts aside for the pleasure of the other.

__________________________

Thanks to leogryffin, my delightful beta. She has started a wonderful new site that archives some truly fantastic authors, and is well worth a look at www.obscurusbooks.org.
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The Gloaming of the Gods