Weft of Power, Warp of Blood: A Tapestry of Desire

Chapter Forty-Two
Preparations, Peas and a Passion Provoking Potion

Some days, it just wasn’t worth waking up in the morning. Cranky. No, not cranky. Apathetic? Resigned? Peevish, though certainly not Peeves. Drumming her nails on the white sheets, she contemplated her mood. The closest she got was ‘eh’. It wasn’t a mood, she knew, but the utterance suited it perfectly. It did not bode well for a good day – and she wasn’t even out of bed yet. Now was not a good time to even bother getting up. Perhaps later. It was summer and if she wanted to try the whole morning thing later instead of now, she’d do it. Sighing, Kiaya tucked her knees a little further up, adjusted her hips just a tiny bit, found a nice cool spot for her hand underneath the pillow, closed her eyes and went back to sleep.

An hour and a half later Kiaya got up. Still not feeling her usual sunny self, she grabbed a banana and made her way into the one of the classrooms she and Snape used as a workroom. Snape wasn’t there yet, thank goodness. She hated being twitted for being “late” when they had no set schedule. It wasn’t long though, before she was half-heartedly stirring and studiously ignoring the conspicuously tardy Snape.

She had tried to apologize for her words the other day, at Jasmine’s house. Worried that Snape might be ill-tempered after their performance in Jasmine's sitting room, Kiaya had been miserable. Knowing that her mouth sometimes ran out of control and even occasionally could wound didn’t make her feel very good. When she was wrong, she always tried to apologize – and it was always genuine. He had brushed her aside with a short jibe about not expecting much more than blatant idiocy from a half-witted former Gryffindor with only a minor talent in the field in which she was trying to poke into – then ordered her to clean the glassware. After that, Kiaya had slapped herself in the forehead – Snape was ill-tempered, confrontation or not and no apology would change it. Kiaya stopped worrying if she bruised him or not. Mostly, she just ignored him and the looming Harlot’s Bloodlust potion and went about her job.

As was their habit, they worked silently together making medicinal potions for the upcoming school year. One by one, potions were ticked off the list written on the chalkboard and huge cauldrons were filled and emptied into small glass phials. Poppy Pomfrey had already created the labels for the potions that she needed so only a quick sticking charm was needed to finish off a lot before summoning a house-elf to take the crates to the hospital wing.

Though the Hogwarts dungeons were usually comfortably cool in the hottest summer months, the work room was sweltering with so many cauldrons bubbling away. Kiaya had foregone the beautiful Flowering Jasmine robes in favor of an old, thin workrobe that she wore like a dress. While grinding valerian with a giant mortar and pestle, she mentally castigated the inventor of the ubiquitous PMP. Sweat and the greasy Potion Master’s Protectant made her hair stick, in the slimiest way possible, to her head under her loose kerchief. Under her robe, her skin was slick from the stuff. Being that she was used to standing over hot cauldrons all day, she wasn’t about to stop her work just because she felt grimy. The offensive smell of the valerian wasn’t helping matters, though. Quietly, she muttered, “Peew.”

“Phu is more like it,” said Snape from across the room.

Still terribly out of sorts she rolled her eyes at the herb pun, and asked, “You’ve been waiting all day to say that, haven’t you?”

He gave her a bland look. “Of course. That’s why I made you prepare it, after all.”

Shooting him a half-sour expression, she went back to work. Her concentration on work had been distracted enough, though, so that she almost immediately noted that she needed to use the toilet. Checking the time, she decided to wait just a few minutes, until they closed up for dinner. Picking up the spoon to scrape a portion of the valerian into a phial for later use, a little voice in the back of her head warned that if she didn’t excuse herself immediately, if not sooner, bad things would happen. Well used to the voice, though not in a true emergency state, she cast Stasis and Belljar Charms over her work and muttered, “I’ll be back in a moment.”

Snape glanced over her work table and called to her retreating back, “Dinner will be ready soon.”

She nodded, anxious to get to her rooms. “I’ll meet you at dinner, then.”

“No,” he replied as he strained a potion into a large goblet. “Come back here before you go upstairs.”

She muttered something unintelligible and fled.

Once in the privacy of her own bathroom, she discovered the urgency. Her body had been informing her that… well, it was time to start on her end of the bargain with Snape and Dumbledore. All she’d wanted was to take a shower – now, thanks to her traitorous body and tendency to talk more than think, she was going to be uncomfortable for the next several months. It was probably the reason for her damned bad mood all day.

Instead of dwelling on her brain-mouth shortcomings – which she well knew, she concentrated on the directions for the menstrual cup. After several embarrassing and slightly painful minutes of inserting, adjusting, removing and reinserting the cup, it was almost comfortable. She added a pad to a pair of clean underpants and a pad underneath, just in case. By the time she was done, her hands were revoltingly messy, but she thought that she might have conquered the cup.

A short while later, she was showered, changed and stood before Snape, blushingly admitting that she’d started her period. He smirked and informed her that he knew because she was flushed, bloated and a good deal more bitchy than usual.

She refused to rise to the bait. Instead, she just glared.

Snape pointed to a goblet on his desk, “Drink that,” he commanded.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Poison. I’m tired of listening to your prattle and have decided to do away with you. Tomorrow, a house elf will find you in your bed, stiff and cold. I will appear properly mournful but will manage to bravely soldier on.”

Her words sounded light, but her tone was frigid. “Professor Snape, that doesn’t shock me in the least. I’m afraid I shall have to decline your gracious invitation to die today. I’ve promised myself that I would not die a virgin, so you will simply have to wait until I have been properly ravished.”

“My dear girl, if that is the only thing to delay you, come here and lay on one of these tables. I will make sure that you aren’t a virgin by the time the others are finished with their first course. We will have to hurry, though, I’m quite famished and heard a rumor that crème bruleè is being served for afters,” said Snape dryly. He was amused, but wouldn’t show it. She did keep coming back for more, didn’t she?

“I’m afraid that won’t do, Professor. There would be far too much PMP involved, since it’s slathered on us both from head to toe, I’m sure. With all of that grease, we’d fall right off the table, undoubtedly breaking a limb or two, or at least getting a concussion. For both of our sakes, I suggest that both ravishment and the poison be saved for another day,” she countered, trying to sound condescending but managing only ruffled. It was hard to sound condescending when was only just topping five feet tall and had to look up, in order to look down her nose at a man that was well over six feet tall.

The bell chimed for the last time, indicating that dinner would be on the table in two minutes – just enough time to get to the Great Hall. Snape and Kiaya stared at each other, daring the other to continue. Kiaya lifted the goblet, one eyebrow raised.

Snape relented, “It’s to make your menses heavier and more regular – among other things. I will get a better result that way. You will feel some discomfort because of it, but it’s the only way.”

Kiaya drained the goblet with a grimace. It didn’t taste wonderful but it wasn’t disgusting. “What’s in it?” she asked curiously, aware that she probably should have done so before, yet still trusting him completely when it came to making a potion. “Isn’t a regular period enough? Why should I be in pain for helping out?”

“Why should you be exempt from all the joy. No one else involved is,” he said under his breath, making Kiaya look harder at him. “Among other things, there is mugwort, pomegranate, shrivelfig pip, tansy, pennyroyal, thuja, summer savory, red wine, ashwinder skin, firefly pheromones, snail eggs, aniseed, rose petals, oyster juice and solids and a strawberry to make it taste nice for you.” He watched her mentally sort through the list, enjoying the look of dawning horror when she realized what half of the ingredients were for. “It also has a rather powerful aphrodisiac in it to help you have more success with the pleasure part of the Dark Lord’s potion. Try not to seduce Professor Flitwick at dinner. He’s a married man.” With that, Snape strode out, heading for the Great Hall.

By the time Kiaya got to the table, the only available seat was between Professors Snape and Elkirk, the ancient runes teacher. Snape ignored her but Professor Elkirk smiled a warm welcome and held her chair while she sat, which was lovely, considering that he was about ninety years old. Dinner was already on the table; she helped herself to small portions of roast chicken, peas and pasta, wishing all of them were chocolate. Professor Elkirk kindly poured a glass of Chardonnay for her as he opened up a conversation about wines and their uses in potions. Snape interrupted the budding conversation by plucking the glass from her hand, just as she was bringing it to her lips.

“The potion has enough wine in it, you don’t need anything that might,” he glanced at Professor Elkirk, who looked stunned at Snape’s actions and words, “go through your system. That includes alcohol or a pain medicine for your…complaint.”

Determined not to cause any more of a scene, Kiaya gave him a tight smile and murmured, “As you will it, Professor Snape.” Pouring herself a glass of pumpkin juice, she mentally growled at the monster who was making her life miserable. Not Voldemort – Snape. Why hadn’t Hell needed a Potions Master? She was sure that the benefits would be better. Satan would at least have let her take something for cramps.

Professor Elkirk looked at her with a concerned expression, “Are you feeling alright, Miss Roundtree?” He seemed to be breathing deeply.

“Yes, Sir, just a little… female trouble.”

That expression usually drove men away in fear, but Professor Elkirk leaned in closer. “Is there anything that I might be able to help you with, dear?”

Snape coughed into his vegetables.

“Oh, no thank you. I’m afraid I’ll just have to muddle through. I’ll be fine, thank you,” she said and began to eat again, the desire for chocolate getting worse. Crème bruleè wasn’t going to cut it. She’d definitely need chocolate.

The potion had started to work immediately after she drank it. Forty-five minutes later, she was growing too warm in her pretty blue embroidered robe and long dress. She felt flushed, and thought that a bead of perspiration had rolled down the curve of her back. Her cramps were getting worse, though they were still bearable. She would definitely curl up with a hot water bottle later, though, since Snape wouldn’t allow a muscle relaxing or pain potion.

“My dear, what is the decoration on your necklace? I can’t quite see it?” asked Professor Elkirk, staring at her breasts. The necklace that Kiaya habitually wore was long and the charm was tucked into her bra. Blushing, she tugged the chain and the small phial, no wider than her thumbnail, slipped from its confinement between her breasts and out of the scoop neck of her dress. A tickle of sensation accompanied the action and Kiaya felt her nipples harden. Her eyes widened at the unexpected arousal that came from even the lightest, most mundane touch. Looking down and confirming her worst fears, her nipples were indeed prominent through the soft cotton jersey of her dress. She tugged the edges of her robes over to cover them, but was sure that Professor Elkirk had noticed.

Trying to distract him, she lifted the phial to her face, saying, “It’s just a little thing my mother gave me when I told her that I was really interested in pursuing potions.”

“What is in it, besides the hearts and tears of all of your admirers, dear?” asked the old professor, inching closer, breathing deeply.

Snape observed the scene from the corner of his eye. On the other side of the round table, Dumbledore was more obvious about watching the pretty teacher and the formerly staid ancient runes professor.

She gulped and giggled, “Oh, if it was made for something like that, Sir, it’d be empty.” She looked at the pretty engraved silver bauble and realized that the chain was brushing the tops of her breasts in a most interesting way. The feather light tickle of warm metal on her smooth skin was very interesting – no, bad, she thought. This was dinner. This was embarrassing. “It’s a bezoar. Nothing exciting.” She tried to ramble, hoping to distract herself and the seemingly lecherous Professor Elkirk. He had never been like this when she was a student, thank goodness. It was really disturbing that he was so now. The man was ninety years old if he was a day. “My mum was afraid that I’d poison myself someday so she made me promise to always wear it while I worked, just in case. She never would believe that I wouldn’t sample a potion like I would dough when I was back home making biscuits. My mum’s a baker. I like to bake, too, which is one of the reasons that I think I developed an affinity for potions, because I’m a good cook…” Her voice trailed away.

“Are you now? Perhaps someday you can show me your best dish. I’ll be happy to sample it,” said Professor Elkirk, moving even closer. His nose was twitching – he was sniffing her.

Kiaya flinched at what she privately termed ‘old man breath’ and the glint in his eye behind his cataract. She tried to scoot away. Unfortunately, Snape was on the other side, so she couldn’t move too far without attracting his attention. While she wiggled, she discovered that moving her legs or hips in any way caused her panties to rub her swelling labia and caused some of the most delicious tingles between her legs.

She squeaked, “Maybe. Bezoars are most interesting, Sir, don’t you agree? There are even more effective as an antidote than even Mitridatum, though that, of course, has its place in the world. Of course you know that a bezoar is just ball of vegetable fiber and hair from the stomach of an animal that chews cud – people have them, too, mostly Muggles. I was a bit revolted to learn that. We just use bezoars from goats, though.” The cotton knit of her dress felt so soft against her tummy and the tops of her thighs that she twisted slightly, wanting to feel the fabric move over her skin. That made the throbbing between her legs even more insistent. She felt hot and thought about removing her robes but then remembered her nipples and decided to wait. Wishing that she could remove the silly hat that she wore to cover her kerchief, she fiddled with the brim, stroking the smooth silk. Her cramps were getting worse, too. She felt like her cramped muscles were twisting themselves into a tight little ball just above the sensual throbbing, probably in cosmic payment for getting aroused at the dinner table. Maybe a hot bath would help. Maybe her wand would help.

Oh, God. Her wand. She had to do THAT tonight, too. How much more embarrassing could the evening get? Mentally, she shrugged. Anything would be better than this whole-body tingle.

The old professor murmured, very close to her ear, “Perhaps after dinner you could come up to my rooms and show me what a bezoar looks like. I’ve never seen one before.” Kiaya was sure he was looking down her dress.

Kiaya smiled and crossed her arms over her chest in self-defense. The pressure and rubbing made her feel lightheaded. Sensation shot from her breasts, directly to her the spot that was throbbing between her legs. There seemed to be a funny roaring in her ears and she crossed her legs under the table trying to control her body. Wryly, she thought to herself that these symptoms were never described in any of the potions books she’d read. Perhaps she should be writing everything down for scientific posterity and education. Seconds later, she damned posterity and education in favor of a still as yet unattempted orgasm. Or chocolate.

Her thoughts were stopped when she felt Snape rest his arm on the back of her chair and lean over her shoulder to snap at Professor Elkirk, “I shall be escorting Miss Roundtree to the potions garden after dinner. She will not be available to show you a bezoar or anything else. However, should you wish to see one, you may come to my office tomorrow. I have a bezoar in a jar that you may see – or taste, if you wish a mouthful of regurgitated magical goat hair and plant material.”

Kiaya couldn’t see the irritation on Snape’s face. She didn’t know that his nostrils were flaring as he breathed the scent of her arousal. She didn’t see the flush on his cheeks. Instead she was concentrating on the warmth of his arm and the proximity of his body. She wasn’t listening to his words, but his black velvet voice felt like it was stroking over her spine. She got goose- bumps and was sure her nipples hardened more.

Conversation between the two men buzzed above her head in short, clipped sentences that she wasn’t paying attention to; she only heard the tones. Kiaya leaned into the curve of Snape’s arm, though had no idea she’d done it. Some unknown instinct told her to get closer to him. The subtle scent of his body drew her. Snape didn’t wear cologne, instead, it was an elemental male smell that couldn’t be analyzed with thought but was completely understood by the deepest feminine part of her. Kiaya felt Snape’s biceps tighten against her back when she brushed her shoulder over his chest in an unconscious sinuous caress as he leaned over her. Despite Snape’s slenderness, he was strong and sleekly muscled. That realization was startling – and very arousing.

She glanced around the table, hoping no one was watching; several of the teachers were still eating their salads and there still didn’t seem to be any chocolate in sight. Her eyes met Dumbledore’s. He looked as though he were trying hard not to chuckle. Suddenly, Kiaya knew that he knew about what was in the potion and how it was affecting her. She blushed an unbecoming fuchsia. Silently, she begged permission to leave. He nodded slightly. Feeling pathetically grateful and not a little bit harried, Kiaya shoved back from the table, dislodging Snape’s arm and interrupting the male staring contest that was happening above her head. “Excuse me, I have something that needs attending to. Professor Snape, I shall meet you in the same workroom in a little while to go to the Potions Garden,” she said. Without waiting for a response, she fled.

Kiaya ignored Peeves’s taunts as she dashed through the halls. When he slammed the second door in her face she growled, “Peeves, you nasty little non-corporeal git, if you don’t stop right this minute, I’m going to get the Bloody Baron to tear you limb from limb. If you dare to doubt my words, remember this – I am the assistant Potions Master and assistant head of Slytherin House. He will listen to me,” she didn’t know if the Bloody Baron would listen to her or not but desperation made her reckless. Her words checked Peeves. While he didn’t get in her way, he didn’t open the door, either. Making mental notes to have a chat with the Bloody Baron, get a supply of chocolate from Honeydukes and to stop wearing lacy bras that created more friction than was needed, Kiaya dashed to her rooms.

Candles flared to life as soon as she entered. The glare hurt Kiaya’s eyes which had adjusted to the dark dungeon hallways as she ran. Panting, she stripped off her clothing, hoping that removing the source of the erotic friction would help calm her. Leaving them in a heap on the floor, she grabbed her wand and headed to the bedroom.

One hand reached up to stroke her tummy and she willed herself to slow down. Never before had she realized how soft her skin was there. Perhaps it was the Potion Master’s Protectent that she slathered on every day to protect her skin and hair from being scorched in a laboratory accident. Idly, she wondered if Snape had such smooth skin.

Though she was feeling an indescribable need between her legs, her hand hesitantly lifted to her breast. She hadn’t ever paid much attention to them before. They grew when she was a teenager, they were there, they looked pretty in the right clothes, but there wasn’t anything special about her breasts. They were just like everyone else’s – medium sized, in proportion to the rest of her body, pale skin with pinkish nipples. Now, though, they tingled. Under her shy explorations, she felt as though they were swelling in her hands as she cupped the underside. Her thumb brushed the delicate skin on the side; she got goose- bumps. The feeling was… odd – it was a swelling that was almost painful, but at the same time, shot arrows of pleasure between her legs. She wanted more. Looking down, watching what would happen, Kiaya slowly traced her thumb across her nipple. At first, it tickled, but when she pressed harder, the nipple peaked in a rush of sensation. The unexpected pleasure shivered through her and left her aching for more. Experimentally, Kiaya brushed her nail over the hardened peak and gasped at the intense pleasure pain. Quickly, her hands moved to cup her breast, hoping to calm the sensation, the hard nipple pressing insistently into her palm. It only left her yearning. She totally forgot any embarrassment she might have had and concentrated on her body.

Biting her lip, Kiaya stared at the bed, then at her wand. The rising heat was becoming too intense for her to bear. She took a deep breath and lay on the bed, thighs parted but stiff and wand hand resting on her belly. Hesitantly, her hand moved from her breast, down her belly to explore the tangle of hair near the center of the heat. Never before had Kiaya taken the time to explore this part of her body, either, but it was fascinating to feel the curls across her palm. She gently ran her fingers through the curls, testing the reactions of her body while learning its textures. The hair here was much different from the fine white blonde hair on her head. It was darker, thicker, coarser and though there were no tangles, her fingers did catch in the curls. It tugged slightly, and she breathed a little bit heavier. Following the hair down she learned that the curls were wet. The words “organic lubricant” floated through her mind.

Feeling curious but uncomfortable – and still needing something that she couldn’t describe, Kiaya lifted one knee to give herself more room to explore. She blushed, feeling exposed, then feeling silly for being embarrassed. With only the lightest brushing of the pads of her fingers, Kiaya traced the folds of her body. There was hair there, less than in the front but the skin underneath was smooth and felt delicate. She followed the trail downwards until she touched something that made her tug her hand back and blush. ‘Oops, that wasn’t in the directions Jasmine gave’, she thought to herself. Giving an embarrassed look at her fingers, she muttered aloud, “Well, everyone has one, you silly girl. Get on with it.”

Before she stopped speaking, her hand was already moving back to explore. The need that had been simmering since dinner was quickly becoming an irresistible urge. Resting her fingers on the silken cleft, Kiaya took a deep, slow breath then slipped her middle finger between the soft folds. She touched the gently swollen nub and discovered lightening.

The knot of tension low in her belly shivered in delight at the first caress. When her fingers pressed deeper into the slick folds, she gasped in surprise. Pleasure shimmered through her, radiating from the tiny nub. Experimentally, Kiaya pressed on it and bit her lip against crying out. The muscles between her legs clenched; her toes curled, but she didn’t move her hand. Slowly, curiously driven to see how much was possible, Kiaya carefully moved her finger over her clitoris. The sensation suddenly escalated to the exquisite edge of pleasure-pain then bloomed into an explosive bouquet of white fire. Behind her clenched eyelids, the telescoping grays of her need swirled into a kaleidoscope of fracturing colors.

Kiaya’s hips settled to the bed again and she opened her eyes. After several blinks and the calming of her breath, reality returned. She now knew why so many people wanted aphrodisiacs; it gave them this. She closed her eyes again, feeling terribly tired, though not knowing exactly why.

A sharp knock sounded on the front door, stirring her from the most delicious floating feeling she’d ever felt. Snape! He was waiting to take her to the potions garden for some odd reason. Kiaya dashed off the bed and into her clothes. She tossed a hat over her undoubtedly mussed hair, shoved her wand into her pocket and opened the door with an over bright smile and flaming cheeks.

“Sorry, Sir, I was…”

“I know exactly what you were doing, Miss Roundtree,” he interrupted, noting the flush on her cheeks. “However, you are finished for the moment. The sun will be going down soon, I would like to get to the garden and back again before it is dark.” His nose twitched and his glittering black eyes toured down her body, still lethargic in the aftermath of her orgasm. Looking back into her eyes, he quirked an eyebrow at her and whirled away, tucking his robes tightly around his lean middle.

Kiaya quickly set the wards on her door and dashed after him, feeling rather like a naughty schoolgirl rather than a grown woman under orders. She couldn’t decide if she should damn herself for having too-short legs or Snape for having too-long legs and trying to intimidate her by walking as fast as humanly possible. She thought about asking him to slow down but thought better of it. Any conversation they’d have would end up being about the potion – something that she really didn’t want to discuss. Her lips twitched even though she blushed – discussion was one thing, but practice… she really did want to practice again.

He held a side door open and waited impatiently for her to catch up. Trying to tell herself that it was accidental, she brushed his chest with her shoulder as she passed by. As soon as she was through the door (she was faintly surprised that he held the door for her) he let it fall closed with a bang. She still had no idea exactly why they were headed in the direction of the potions garden. The walk would be a good way to stretch out her muscles – and she could ignore Snape outside just as well as inside.

They walked quietly to the greenhouse closest to the lake. If she’d been walking with anyone but Snape, she’d have thought that it was a romantic to stroll. The dying sunlight reflecting off the lake made a pretty picture. Kiaya felt a little tingle in her stomach at the thought, though quashed it by looking at Snape. He was probably the least romantic man alive, though in the soft, golden light, he looked a little bit more gentle than usual. Blinking, she shook her head and reminded herself exactly who she was looking at.

Before she even registered that there might be a problem, Snape shoved Kiaya back and whipped his wand from its sheath to point it into a copse of trees next to the greenhouse.

“Come out, where I can see you!” Snape ordered.

Kiaya only gaped.

“Roundtree, your wand,” he instructed under his breath.

A rustle of leaves and crunch of underbrush had Kiaya fumbling for her wand and instinctively scooting further behind Snape. There was definitely something out there. Kiaya hoped it was innocent – something small and harmless like a niffler or a stray crup. Crups were cute. Death Eaters or werewolves weren’t.

“Your magic would have little effect on me, wizard,” came a voice from the deep shadows.

Snape said nothing but his eyes narrowed. His wand stayed steady.

Stepping into the dying light, Firenze took a bite of a carrot that still had a coating of dirt on it.

Snape’s only reaction was a lift of a single eyebrow.

Relieved at the sight of the handsome centaur that she was almost friends with, Kiaya stepped around Snape with a happy smile. She quelled the instant attraction and the lovely tingle that the sight – rather, the smell, of him elicited. The closer he came, the harder it became for her to quell but, since she knew that he turned her into a babbling idiot, she could keep a tight reign on her tongue and hormones. She offered a quick greeting but otherwise kept her mouth shut.

He bent at the waist, with one hoof back in what Kiaya assumed what a formal bow and she returned a curtsey, though had no idea why. He was still the most beautiful creature she’d ever seen but made no move to touch him. With her hormones ragging as they were – and such a lovely feeling it was - getting any closer to the obscenely virile centaur would just asking for… trouble. For the first time ever, she thanked God that Snape was there. Any chaperone would do at the moment, she thought, though she hadn’t felt Snape take a step forward as well. He stood directly behind her, looking at Firenze.

“Kiaya Roundtree, it is a pleasure to see you again,” he said in that slow, deep voice that sent shivers up her spine.

“And you, Firenze.”

“Greetings, Severus Snape. I have not seen you in many months. It is my understanding that you have been very busy.”

Smoothly, Snape asked, “Who have you heard that from?”

“The stars say much, to those who hear the whisper.”

“And what do the stars say?”

Kiaya felt a brush against her back, but rather than jumping forward, she arched back, seeking more of the sensation. She smelled the coffee on his breath and the warmth against her back and thought it pleasant. When she felt the band of Snape’s now crossed arms pressing into her back in a way that made her want to feel more, she remembered the potion and its embarrassing effects. Surprised, she took a small step forward, away from the warmth and pleasure. Unfortunately, the flutters in her belly didn’t stop.

“Venus and Ganymede dance to the music of a lone flute while the slave is born.”

“And?” Snape invited.

“The rest will come, when it is time.”

Kiaya didn’t know why she was surprised that she was confused and frustrated. She knew quite well that he spoke in riddles. Hadn’t Firenze said something about the stars and mallowsweet to her several months ago? Like then, she didn’t understand him now and like then, the centaur’s pheromones were filling her head with desires that were both repulsive and titillating. His deep voice made Kiaya want to purr and rub herself over his strong flanks and warm, palomino coat until his strong arms wrapped around her. She was certain he could show her the lighting again – without the aid of a wand or potion.

Snape stepped to her side, just in front of her. Sourly, he said, “Half a prophecy neither helps nor hinders.”

Azure blue eyes steady on fathomless black ones, Firenze replied, “’Twas not half a prophecy. ‘Twas not a prophecy at all. Simply a statement of current events as the heavens see them.”

“Who is this slave that the heavens are so intent upon?” Snape demanded.

“All will out, in time,” said Firenze.

Snape growled then. Kiaya looked at him under her lashes. The sound of his growl was… attractive, though of course, Snape certainly wasn’t.

Firenze ignored the aggression and turned to Kiaya. He asked, “So you have taken a mate, then, Kiaya Rountree?”

“A mate?” Flustered, she spluttered, “No! Why would you…”

“You are with a male during your oestrus. He protects you from a perceived threat and you arch your back to him.”

She blushed, wondering if the effects of the potion were tattooed on her forehead. How on earth did he know she was having her period? All she could manage was a garbled, “What?”

Snape said nothing but turned to look at her.

Firenze continued. “Your scent has changed; it is darker, heavier now. Your breasts are swollen and nipples are erect. Your body temperature has risen. Your lips are fuller and your skin is flushed. You stand with your legs parted, your foot is turned out and your hips are turned toward Severus Snape though you look at me. It is an invitation to mate.”

Snapping to, her ankles were so close together now, they touched. Her arms crossed defensively over her breasts. Her eyes flashed her emotions and mortified tears to both of them before she turned on one foot and stalked back to the castle through the lengthening shadows.

Firenze cocked his head to the side and asked, “Have I offended Kiaya Roundtree?”

Snape unclenched his jaw and said in a low tone, “Human woman do not have an oestrus. They have a menses, which is the ending of their monthly fertile cycle. Sexual arousal during the menses is not uncommon but humans, especially human females, do not generally discuss such things.”

“It is a human taboo, then, to discuss such things?”

After a moment’s consideration, Snape replied, “It is.”

“My apologies then, to both you and Kiaya Rountree. I did not mean to offend. We centaurs, with the rest of the non-human populations, do not consider mating or breeding, to be anything but enjoyable or at least productive.”

Quirking a crooked half smile, Snape said, “Humans enjoy, too. We just do it more discreetly.”

“And do you enjoy the heat of mating with Kiaya Roundtree, Severus Snape?”

The smile disappeared. “We are not mated, no, but I will protect her from that which she does not want.”

“And that which she does want?”

“That, too.”

Firenze looked to the few stars that were just coming out for a long while before speaking again. “Several moons ago, I told Kiaya Roundtree that I was young and not interested in taking a mate.”

Snape listened.

“But every day, I grow older. She is no longer a foal and the scent of a female in such a powerful heat is enticing.” He looked at Snape without blinking.

Fingers wrapped tightly around his wand, Snape ground out, “There is more to her than just being a female in heat.”

“Which is why I will not touch her – for now. She is not meant for me at this time, though I do not know what will be in the years to come.”

Snape nodded curtly.

“The members of my herd, though, do not have such an understanding of the coming events, nor do they care for the dealings of humans and their wars. If she is found by one of them, do not mistake me, she will be taken.”

As the last tinge of pink sunset turned into its nighttime purple, Snape said simply, “Noted.”