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

Chapter Fifty
Bought and Paid For

“God-damned son of a bitch!” he yelled, jumping back from the splatter on the floor as it hit his perfectly polished dress shoes and formal robes. Jumping, though, meant landing and the puddle of vomit was huge, compared to the infinitesimal amount of food she’d managed to choke down throughout the day. Snape slipped, remaining upright only by the grace of a miracle and a death grip on the back of her sofa.

Kiaya remained bent over, shuddering and clutching at her mouth and her too-nervous belly. Hot, fat tears rolled down her cheeks.

His words of five minutes echoed through her head. “Woman, you’re making me dizzy. If you don’t sit down and pinch some color into your cheeks, I’m going to spank you and you damned well won’t like it. Here, drink this,” Snape said as he thrust a glass of scotch in her hand. Full of nerves, rather than brains, she swallowed the lot and immediately felt a thousand times worse as he lectured her on proper slave-like deportment. He’d been telling her, in rather graphic detail, how she’d kneel before him on the floor of the Great Hall (“Yes, in front of all of those people, you ninny”) and tell him how glad she’d be to serve him, then tuck her hair back and ask for the mark of his ownership. As soon as he said that each of the golden spikes on the Concubind would pierce her flesh – one at a time – terror about the whole event, relationship and situation had taken over and she’d retched. The whisky had burned worse the second time it passed.

He growled a cleaning spell and strode to the fireplace to Floo the kitchen, demanding a house elf. Immediately, a small house elf appeared.

It squeaked, “Professor Severus Snape, thank you for summoning Ellie. How may Ellie serve you?

Snape looked at the house elf like it was stupid then hissed, “My … Professor Roundtree was ill. Clean my clothing, clean the floor and furniture,” he ground his teeth, “and then clean her - she will need to wear that clothing in one hour.”

“Of course, Professor Severus Snape. Ellie is so pleased to be of service to such a great man and his beautiful Professor Kiaya Roundtree,” the house elf gushed and held out her spindly fingers.

A swirl of steam and magic smoke curled up Severus’s legs. While his quickly growled spell had been effective enough, Ellie’s magic was absolute. When the smoke dissipated, Severus was perfectly clean from head to toe. His hair was even clean and brushed and his buttons gleamed. His clothing was perfectly pressed, though Kiaya really didn’t care, she was still busy shuddering and trying not to vomit more in utter mortification. Severus harrumphed and stalked out.

Another curl of steam and smoke moved over and around the now vertical but still huddled Kiaya. The dreaded Arabian Nights costume, while still risqué, was at least clean and wrinkle free now. Even her skin, hair and mouth felt clean. Kiaya mumbled her thanks to the delight of the house elf.

Wasting no time, Ellie waved her hands and the puddle of rapidly cooling vomit vanished. The spattered drops disappeared in puffs of steam. The Persian rug looked brand new - or at least as new as the rest of it. With a twist of her wrist, a cold breeze wooshed out of the chimney, swirled around the room and flew back up the chimney. It left the room frigid but smelling fresh. Ellie stoked the fire to compensate and melted into a corner to await further instruction or dismissal.

Severus stalked back into the room, holding several single-dose bottles. He handed them to her one by one. Too miserable to do anything but blush and obey, Kiaya downed the first potion as he said, “Effray's Stomach and Nerve Soother.”

It took only the time of two deep breaths for her stomach to settle, the bells in her head to stop gonging, and for the thick mantle of terror that she wore to fall away. She mustered a smile and thanked him, adding, “I should have thought of the Effray's before… I’m so sorry for….” She flailed her hands, looking helpless, bewildered and utterly humiliated.

Deliberately speaking gently, though his face was stony, Severus reassured her, “Nerves are to be expected. Next time, try to get to a bucket.”

“I know, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have….”

Interrupting her, he handed her a tiny bottle. “Drink only the smallest sip.”

She stopped babbling, peered down and obeyed, swallowing a few drops from the bottle, rather hoping that it was arsenic, though Severus said, “Felix Felicis.”

Kiaya was surprised that Severus would even think of such a thing. It was a potion for luck and confidence. People who drank the stuff invariably won or succeeded in their endeavors for about twelve hours. She thought it curious that, after all of the bluster, he was doing something to ensure his success. Kiaya knew she’d feel less like a trembling mouse and more like a lion on the hunt soon - and rather welcomed it, even though it wasn’t an actual character trait.

It was only a moment until she felt confident and able to conquer all of Britain - right after she conquered the audience upstairs, Lucius Malfoy included. Her grin only caused Snape to raise his eyebrow.

“Don’t get too excited. It’ll wear off tonight.”

She took a deep breath and nodded that she recognized it. “Again, thank you. It helped.”

He took the bottle from her and drained the last drops. When she looked surprised, he said, “It certainly can’t hurt tonight - though the headmaster and I have all contingencies covered.”

“I understand,” she said quietly with a smile. She did, too. No plan was perfect. The Felix Felicis was simply to nudge their luck along.

“What’s that one?”

He proffered her the bottle and said, ‘You tell me.”

Almost intrigued, she uncorked the bottle and peered into the bottle. The glass was dark so all she could see was a light colored gleam. She took a sniff. It smelled like… the storage cabinet for raw potions ingredients - layers of herbs and a slight tinge of dust. It also smelled like coffee and peppermint - two scents that would always be together in her mind. With that, she knew was the potion was. Amortentia. It was a love potion that smelled of whatever someone loved. Curious, she held the bottle out to him and asked, “What do you smell?”

“Nosey kitten,” he chided without much heat.

“But a fair question if you’re feeding it to me.”

His lips twisted into a half smile as he acknowledged her point. Leaning in, he inhaled and said, “Fresh air, grass, honey, vanilla and pepper.”

She mused on his answer without bothering to ask the obvious questions – ones he wouldn’t answer anyway. “And after I drink this?”

“It will all be easier for you, to begin with.”

“And what about you?” she asked.

He looked at her with one of his rare half-smiles. “After you take it, I’ll kiss you – and drink from your lips.”

“Why?” she asked, no louder than a whisper, her stomach fluttering, though not with nausea this time.

“Because it’ll be easier on me, too.”

She trusted him. The knowledge welled up inside her. She had always known that he wouldn’t do her any real physical harm but in drinking the Amortentia, he’d be in love, too. It would be as real as they … as he allowed it to be. She doubted that he’d throw over the war between Dumbledore and Voldemort for her, but he would care. She considered his expression. It was almost blank but he wasn’t mocking her and it didn’t look like he would hurt her deliberately. By taking the love potion with her, he was declaring that she was more than a walking potion ingredient and target for his foul temper. He was declaring some kind of love for her and she could finally embrace the growing emotions and attraction she had for him. It was a good feeling.

Confident in herself and in him, Kiaya drank the contents of the little glass bottle. She swallowed most of it and looked up at him from under her lashes as warmth spread from her belly. Without rush, he lifted his hand to the back of her neck. He tugged her closer, positioning her exactly where he wanted her body and her lips. There was no hesitation as his mouth claimed hers. There was only a gentle insistence of his right to do so. His tongue pressed into her mouth and she fed him the potion. Kiaya pressed closer, rubbing her body over his in a sweet plea for more. Palming her ass, he tugged her closer. She celebrated feeling his hard, thick arousal against her belly by twisting closer.

The clock in the corner struck half eight. He eased away from her, dropping tiny, stinging nips and kisses to her lips. “I need to go upstairs to keep an eye on the miscreants.”

Her smile was misty. She asked, “Which ones?”

“All of them,” was his sardonic reply.

Her chuckle was soft as she clung to him. Finally allowed to love this man who did such annoying things to her body, she didn’t want to even let him go. Feeling dizzy with emotion, she clung to him.

He murmured against her lips, “I must go, but I want you to sit quietly here until they are ready for you and think about what being mine means to you. Then, come upstairs and make me proud to own you.”

She blinked. Proud to own her? How the hell was she supposed to do that? Utterly besotted, she nodded anyway, vowing to figure it out while he was gone. He wasn’t even gone yet, but the thought made her feel empty and distraught in a way that she thought only maidens of fairy tales did. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling but she walked him to the door, not wanting to irritate him by clinging like a honeysuckle vine.

A sharp rap on the door jolted Kiaya out of her daze. Though they were in Kiaya’s room, Severus opened the door.


*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

To be brutally honest, she was snooping. Defensibly, she had a perfect right to be there, as it was her house, too. Really, though, there was no good reason for Narcissa Malfoy to be pottering about in Lucius’s big, antique desk minutes before a Ministry event. Lucius was still in his bath, though, so it really was the perfect time. He was up to something and, for once, she had no idea what. It was disconcerting. Narcissa considered it only prudent, enlightened self-interest to find out.

She disabled the wards on the desk with minimal effort. The man hadn’t changed his password charms in fifteen years. Narcissa considered them to be more decorative than functional.

The top drawer contained the expected quill and ink collection. A random cufflink was poked into a corner with a handful of galleons. Several blank promissory notes for Gringotts bank were neatly stacked. She pulled a face. She paid all of the household expenses as well as dealing with Draco’s pocket money. The only reason that Lucius would have the notes in his desk was to buy baubles for his sex toys.

The next drawer yielded a curiosity. On top of the expected foolscap and wand polish was a copy of the current issue of Witch Weekly. Celestina Warbeck winked from the cover promising new ways to please her wizard and the latest in dry skin potions to beat the winter doldrums. Narcissa’s copy of the magazine was sitting in a prominent place on her bedside table, discreetly covering a relatively unknown treatise on the fine art of war-mongering for profit by Machiavelli. Lucius had to have purchased this copy for himself. Idly, Narcissa wondered if Lucius needed help pleasuring his wizard. She stifled a giggle.

With half of her attention on the door, she lifted the magazine to get a better look at the rest of the contents of the drawer. She noticed a bookmark in the magazine. No scrap of paper, the bookmark was a fine golden thing with a fancy little tassel. Quickly flipping to the page, Narcissa pursed her lips. It marked an advertisement for the Three Flowers, the shop where they bought much of their clothing. A full two pages, the advertisement showed a sweet looking little girl playing in an exquisite little frock that made Narcissa yearn for a little girl. Below the photo was one of a professionally dressed witch with a briefcase.

On the other page, however, was a full page photo. She figured out what Lucius was up to. It was unmistakably the woman she’d called on over the summer – the potions mistress who was covered in fertilizer and looked a bit too much like a relative for comfort. The woman that the other women in their social circle – and likely the men, too – gossiped about. The woman whose name had already been associated with Lucius, old Basilton and Severus Snape. She was rich, obviously lovely, rather bumbling, and likely the whore of Babylon. Wearing a beautiful gown and cloak in the photograph, the pale woman looked Fae and was watching some man with a lover’s gaze. She wondered if the male shoulder and collar belonged to her husband but dismissed the thought upon closer examination – there were fine black hairs clinging to the Flowering Jasmine logo on the collar.

Under the magazine lay a sheet of parchment with Lucius’s scribble on it. Leaning over, she listened for Lucius’s footsteps and read:

Dear Kiaya,

I just noticed the lovely photo of you in a magazine. You are absolutely exquisite in it. I very much look forward to

The letter ended without a finish and Narcissa wondered what else he’d add to it. She heard footsteps then his voice.

Quickly, she replaced the magazine and rewarded the desk, just in time. The door opened all of the way just as she replaced her wand. Posing artfully, she smiled innocently as Lucius found her.

He looked over the desk, trying to figure out what she was doing – and how far she’d gone with it and asked, “What are you doing?”

Narcissa moved around the desk and bussed him on the lips. “I was just looking for the rent receipts, love. I was sure that I asked Mimsy to put them on my desk, but they weren’t there. I thought she might have put them here instead.” The house elf had, indeed put the receipts on her desk but it was unlikely that Lucius would have noticed. She could always plead blind silliness.

He scanned the surface of the desk and said, “They aren’t. You can find them later – now, though, we need to leave.”

Pasting a loving smile on her face, she took his arm.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


“We came down to see how you … oh, hello, Severus,” Minerva McGonagall’s voice was unmistakable.

Severus stepped aside, revealing one of the most exquisite women Kiaya had ever seen. Not normally one to ‘feel pretty’, Kiaya felt positively dowdy looking at her.

Minerva said, “I’m not one for fripperies, so I shanghaied Mrs. Weasley to help me with that… costume.”

The vision spoke with a French accent that was curiously flat – perhaps with irritation, “I am so pleased to assist ‘zee Order.” She looked at Kiaya through the threshold and said, “Please call me Fleur.”

Though suddenly shy and feeling rather intruded-upon, Kiaya murmured pleasantries back. She needed time to sit quietly in Severus’s arms and muse on his kindness, her blossoming adoration and need to make him smile. Minerva and the blonde woman seemed intent on disrupting that, even though Kiaya knew the costume was inadequate.

Severus ushered both ladies inside with a simple, “Minerva. Mrs. Weasley.”

“Thank you,” replied both ladies as they entered. Minerva looked Kiaya over with raised eyebrows.

“My, that certainly fits … more interestingly than it did last time I saw it,” she said as she shot Severus a censorious look.

His own expression was mild. Kiaya wondered if they all ought to worry so stepped forward.

“Minerva, thank you for coming down to fix this thing. I’ve been at a loss and had finally just decided to leave it. That was kind of you.”

Severus murmured “Yes, so very kind.”

Minerva looked at him with a guileless expression and said, “Amycus Carrow just arrived with his sister and Thorfin Rowle and the Goyles were just put in a carriage to come up the drive, I’m told.”

Kiaya looked confused and wanted only to nestle into Severus’s arms. She assumed they were Death Eaters but didn’t want to discuss it. Really, she just wanted to spend more time kissing Severus. Mrs. Weasley sniffed at the names and looked rather disdainful.

“Business associates,” he told Kiaya and added, “I’m sure they’ll be sitting nearby and will want to meet you afterward.”

Kiaya just murmured her assent and gave in to the urge to touch him, purposely not looking at the other two women. Drawing her fingers down his shoulder, she referenced his words from before she was so ignominiously sick. “So no speaking unless spoken to and then only minimally after deferring to you in all things?”

He grasped her hand and pressed a kiss to the center of her palm. He spoke his first words against her skin. “Kitten, all that I require of you is beauty in all that you are and your total obedience in thought and action. If your first thought, for anything and everything is to show your devotion to me, then I’ll be happy - and I’ll always reward you.”

She nodded, willing to try for him. Anything for him.

“Good girl. You know what to do then – remember the exact words you’re to say,” he said and released her hands. He nodded to the stone faced Minerva and Fleur as he walked to the door. Just before exiting, he leveled a look at Kiaya and said, “Don’t take too long on your clothing. You still have some thinking to do.”

As soon as the door closed, Minerva headed off Kiaya’s dreamy smile. “Are you all right? You seem different.”

Kiaya held up the potion bottles that she still held and said, “Liquid calm, confidence and,” she tried to think of another ‘C’ word but couldn’t, “love. It may not be natural but it's damned well helping matters and I wouldn’t trade this feeling for the world.”

Minerva nodded brusquely and took out her wand. “Right then. Let’s make that costume a little bit more suitable.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Severus stalked by several obvious and trying-to-be-discreet Aurors and Order members as he made his way from the dungeons to the Great Hall. Several inhabited suits of armor, others hid under stairs or behind curtains and tapestries. He was even convinced that a very white and likely nude, Tonks had taken the place of the statue of Artemis in the hallway off the main entrance, leading upstairs. He didn’t remember that statue being quite so… giggly.

He spoke to a painting at the top of the dungeon stairs. It was an old man wearing bright yellow wizards robes and a jaunty top hat holding a noisy looking dog. “Hello, Winchester - and Sparkles,” he greeted the dog, too. It got ever so offended if he didn’t.

“Good evening, Professor Snape. You’re looking dapper tonight. Going to the big to-do?”

“I am, indeed, thank you.”

“Enjoy it, my boy! This place needs a good party every few years to work everyone up!” Winchester the painting declared in Etonian accents.

“I can’t agree with you there, however, there are quite a few people here tonight – and not one of them has a reason to go downstairs without a proper escort.” It wasn’t really likely that anyone could go downstairs – or upstairs without a staff member escort as there had been plans to charm the stairs to fail should a stranger attempt them. It didn’t hurt to have Winchester keep an eye out, though.

The old wizard harrumphed and stood straighter. Sparkles yipped. “I understand, Professor. Don’t you give it another thought. I’ll stay alert until every one of these scoundrels is shoved out into the cold.”

“Thank you,” replied Severus and made his way into the castle foyer.

The first person he saw was that hard-ass, Head Auror Scrimgeour looking down as he spoke in hushed tones to Pius Thickenesse, staring at the steady stream of party-goers entering the front entrance. Neither man seemed to notice the portrait of a patrician looking wizard that hung behind their tête à tête was shamelessly eavesdropping – likely on Dumbledore’s orders.

The massive front doors were open in generous welcome. The blustering wind, rain and ice were kept at bay by a spell shielding the portal. Idly, Severus wondered how quickly that spell could become a solid wall. Probably faster than it would take Dumbledore to think the spell, he told himself. The normally spotless hall gleamed. Torches that were normally dark flared, burnishing gilded picture frames, making the mirrors murmur in delight and the enchanted suits of armor stand tall and proud, knowing they shone brightly. The portraits all craned their necks to see the party-goers – some even made complimentary comments (though most gossiped like a gaggle of geese) or greeted relatives.

The Great Hall had been transformed from its normal Christmas winter wonderland into a sultan’s palace. Jewel toned wall hangings covered the cold stone. Softly glowing glass and filigree brass lamps hung in mid air under a huge canopy that almost covered the ceiling. Instead of chairs around the tables, there were puffy ottomans to sit on. The bar, hors d'œuvre table, the band and a single table that would be used for money changing were all covered with canopies of some striped gauzy fabric that Jasmine would know. Draped columns made them look like nomad tents in an oasis. A huge fountain stood near the door. It was a large bowl filled with date palms and ferns. Water splashed down into another bowl large enough to swim in. The air smelled of sandalwood, bergamot and jasmine. The room was dotted with potted plants and trees, their bases draped with fabric.

Declining the proffered wine glass held aloft by a formally tea-towel wearing house elf, Severus entered the Great Hall. The school tables were stored away, replaced by round ones that would seat eight. The tables were all laid for dinner with brass utensils, rather than Hogwarts’s formal silver – Severus knew the social hour wouldn’t last long. There was assigned seating, of course – better to control the unmasked Death Eater contingent.

A quick survey of the room told him that three inner circle Death Eaters were huddled around the bar – talking about Quidditch from their hand gestures. Several less important of the Dark Lord’s followers hung on their every word. Fudge was glad-handing old Pilliwickle of Vin Mariani and Pilliwickle’s Perfectly Precious Pickles, Pears and Pomegranates fame. Malfoy held court from his table near the front of the stage that was set up on the Head Table dais. Hestia Jones chatted with several merchants from Diagon Crossing near the band in the back corner.

The lights dimmed except over each of the tables. Slowly, people found their seats. It was all arranged with mathematical precision . Favored seating was given to the most important people – Ministry bigwigs, wealthy donors and celebrities. There was a subtle emphasis on being able to surround any Death Eaters that got stupid (though Severus rather doubted that it would happen). Severus knew just where his seat was, just as he knew right where he’d put Kiaya – out of anyone’s reach but his own.

He headed to the ottoman directly across from Lucius Malfoy. The gentlemen offered hale greetings and Severus bowed to Narcissa. Narcissa looked serene and stunning, as always, in an icy blue dress and, Lucius looked like a predator awaiting his next meal. Both men had ideal views of the stage, though Severus could also see the rest of the audience without craning his neck. Crabbe and his dumpy wife, Thorfinn Rowle, Albert Nott and his pretty but daft wife filled in the rest of the table. The Parkinsons, Goyles, Thickenesses and Mrs. Zabini with her ‘companion’ all sat at the next table.

Once the audience was settled, a lone flute called out. A flash of blue light from high above cued the audience to look up. The music rose into an exotic Arabian song that made Severus think of temples, sand and women hidden away as treasures and temptations.

From the ceiling a flying carpet lazily floated down and around the heads of the audience, ridden by Derwent Shimpling (the purple skinned comedian who probably wouldn’t be funny). Unfortunately for all, he was the evening’s host, announcer and auctioneer. As the rug floated through the room, Severus noticed that Shimpling was dressed like some nightmare of a djinn in lurid purple balloon trousers (only shades lighter than his violet skin) and a saffron colored vest. When he landed on the stage, Severus thanked God that Derwent was also wearing a shirt - the comedian was notoriously hairy.

“Witches, Wizards and really rich squibs, welcome!” said Shimpling from the stage. He waited for the obligatory laughter to end then said, “No really, has anyone ever seen him,” he pointed to Cornelius Fudge, “do magic?”

The audience laughed at the Minister’s red face as he sent up an obligatory shower of red sparks from his wand.

“All right, fine - but I still think his wife did that. Actually, folks, I’d like to get started here as I’d like to make an early night of it.” He paused for effect and the audience’s groans. “Hey, hey, hey, it’s not a bad thing. If you think what they did up here to decorate, you should see the harem down in the Slytherin common room.”

He stopped again for the polite laughter to die down then continued. “But seriously, ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for coming tonight. Not only is it going to be a fun event, bit it’s all for a really great cause - not just the birds down in the Slytherin harem.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“First things first. I hate to say it and I’ll never say it to you again: go remove your underthings. They show too much and look dreadful.”

Kiaya stared, teetering between crying and laughing her head off. She stared at the other woman who was nodding her perfectly coiffed blonde head – with her nose in the air. Kiaya had worked a long time to spell her bra to fit properly. Since spell work wasn’t her forte, getting it right had been an accomplishment – and she didn’t want to remove that accomplishment. She also didn’t want to be nude under the tiny vest. On the other hand, having Minerva McGonagall tell her to remove her lingerie with that semi-sourpuss expression was more than comical – it was anecdote-worthy. Saying it in front of an audience was just surreal. Pride and the Felix Felicis potion drove her into her bedroom to strip. It wasn’t long before she was back in the sitting room looking at the ethereal blonde.

“Zee Professor says there is a,” Fleur paused, searching for the word, “intrigue happening and you must be beautiful. I was asked to help with ‘zis,” announced the woman, looking at Kiaya like a poor relation with a hair-lip and a wart problem.

Kiaya didn’t have a response that was in any way polite – and wondered which Weasley had taken Fleur on but had no idea. She bit her tongue on the comment and said, “Thanks so kind of you to help. As you can see, I really am no good at this kind of thing,” and I have better things to do than primp, she thought.

“I see ‘zis,” Fleur said. “I must hurry, ‘zough, My ‘usband is waiting for me. ‘Zee goblins insisted ‘zat we come to represent ‘zem tonight.” She preened as she drew her wand. “Where are your cosmetics?”

Kiaya smiled and breathed her temper away, though couldn’t quite manage to uncurl the claws her fingers were frozen into. She chanted to herself that Severus deserved the best and this bitch… erm... witch… was going to help her be the best. She waved her wand toward the other room and a box came zooming out and landed on the table. Fleur opened, then upended the box – then gasped.

“You can not possibly wear ‘zis! It is all wrong!” She held up a tube of lipstick, shaking it. “’Zis is horrific. ‘Zis color is for someone with dark skin – you would look like a vampire in it!”

Kiaya wrinkled her brow. She’d made the damned stuff herself.

“An ‘zis!” Fleur exclaimed as she held up a perfectly reasonable blue eye shadow, “’zis is ancient! No one wears ‘zis color! C’est horrible!”

Kiaya contemplated the blue stuff. Her mother had given it to her when she was in ... Hogwarts, in her third or fourth year. Erm, perhaps it was old. Kiaya didn’t think it was ‘c’est horrible’ though.

Fleur poked a black eyeliner tube with her wand. “You actually use ‘zis? You want to look like a…”

Kiaya’s eyes widened with every word and her breathing increased speed. This… this... creature was so… so… She felt Minerva’s boney hand squeezing her shoulder in warning and almost growled.

“I’m sure Kiaya appreciates your advice. Thank you so much for helping. You can help her, right?” Minerva asked, interrupting a rant on prostitutes, raccoons and black liquid eyeliner.

Banishing the lot back into the box, then the box into the dustbin, Fleur leveled a look at Kiaya then pointed her wand right at her nose. “You leave ‘zos ‘zere. ‘Zey are ancient and will make you ugly.”

Kiaya took a deep breath and put her faith in the Felix Felicis potion. With confidence and luck, this venture couldn’t go wrong – the bitch… witch, be damned. She trusted Minerva, too, of course. The professor wouldn’t have brought Fleur if she didn’t think that the woman would ultimately help them. Noting that she and Fleur had the same coloring, Kiaya looked close at her trying to memorize the colors and placement. She was willing to believe that her mother, the baker who didn’t wear cosmetics, might have been wrong when showing her teenage daughter how to manage the stuff.

Fleur removed several cosmetics from her pretty clutch purse. “You should go to Myrtle’s in Diagon Crossing,” she said and began. She smeared beige stuff on Kiaya’s skin. It was cold, but it smelled good. “’Zey will give you ‘zee perfect things. 'Zis is good, but your eyes are different. 'Zay will be better.”

As soon as she was finished smearing, Fleur lifted Kiaya’s chin up, looking at her jaw before rubbing a spot on her left cheek. She cleaned her hands with a spell then tapped the lids of each compact, bottle and tube on the table. Each one popped open and the brushes all looked ready to attack. As soon as Fleur pointed her wand at Kiaya and told them to attack, the brushes did. Instinctively, Kiaya closed her eyes, whimpered and clenched her fists as her face was painted, each stroke tickling.

“What of the costume?” asked Minerva.

“It is some’zing ‘zat a veela would wear, ‘zough not as plain as ‘zis.”

A veela would wear it! That made it closer to lingerie than she’d already complained about. Veelas were magical creatures that looked like sexy, gorgeous women intent on catching, pleasing and seducing a man – most of the time. When they fed or got overly emotional, Kiaya had heard that they more closely resembled harpies. Kiaya wiggled uncomfortably, wondering if Fleur was going to be less than pretty soon. One of the brushes poked her so Kiaya stopped wiggling.

“What needs to be done to liven it up – and cover Kiaya up?”

Lipstick dragged itself over Kiaya’s mouth so she couldn’t chime in.

“My great-grandmozer said ‘zat she had some’zing like ‘zis with strings of pearls to hold it closed when she was in a hareem in Persia.” Fleur said. There was a very Gallic shrug in her voice, though Kiaya couldn’t open her eyes to see it. “She said ‘zat ‘zee sultan kept her dripping in jewels until he was killed by a camel.”

Kiaya had no reply but, just then, the clock chimed announcing the hour as the last of the cosmetics drifted away, capped itself and dropped into Fleur’s purse. Kiaya didn't open her eyes until she heard the sound of Fleur’s purse clasp closing. Standing and examining the makeup on Kiaya, Fleur hummed her approval. Kiaya took it as high kudos. Glancing in a mirror, she had to concede that the woman did, indeed, know what she was doing. Kiaya’s complexion was smoothed out and her eyes looked so big and bright that they were positively kittenish. Her normal pallor was brightened with some kind of blush on her cheeks and her lips looked… well… more than kissable.

Hands on her hips, Fleur made a royal gesture for Kiaya to stand up and turn around. Willing to shut up in order not to look like a hag in a harem, Kiaya spun around as instructed.

Fleur signed and snapped “Not like ‘zat! Mon Dieu! Do all women in ‘zis country move like dancing bears?”

“Look….”

“Mrs. Weasley!”

Fleur shushed both of them and posed, one arm held out to her side, the other raised in front of her. One foot was placed in front of the other. “Stand ‘zis way. You are a gift of great value. Show off ‘zee gift, even if ‘zere is only one recipient.”

Kiaya swallowed her snarl and dutifully posed.

“Non, non!” Fleur groused and shook Kiaya’s arm, flapping it about. “Relax. You must be relaxed! ‘Zis way!” She demonstrated again.

Kiaya ground her teeth and matched Fleur’s pose, down to the fingertips and head tilt. She was determined to make Severus proud and not spill this woman’s blood on her carpet.

“Better. You must be as the most beautiful woman in ‘zee world, giving ‘zis people ‘zee gift of your presence.”

Kiaya nodded her understanding. She could do this – and she mentally thanked her beloved Severus for the Felix Felicis, Severus would be proud of her. She wondered if she should worry about keeping her price low so he didn’t have a problem purchasing her. No – no. The more expensive the price, the better he’d look. Expensive. She was expensive. She’d be an expensive purchase then surely Severus would treasure her just as she adored him. Kiaya couldn’t wait to see the look of satisfaction on his fascinating face when he could say that he really did “own” her in front of Lucius Malfoy. She tossed her hair – or what there was of it and did her damnedest to Be Beautiful for her beloved.

Fleur walked around her, gently poking, prodding and moving Kiaya’s body around in different poses so she wouldn’t be stuck in the one. Kiaya absorbed the woman’s advice and manner.

Sounding like a queen, Fleur instructed Minerva, “Swag pearls across ‘zee front here. ‘Zis is only eight inches, so do one per inch and it won’t look too crowded. O course, ‘zey will sway and tempt ‘zee eyes but…” she directed her wand at the front of the vest and said something in French so quietly that Kiaya couldn’t understand. “Now ‘zee top won’t give a shoe to l’hommes.”

Experimentally, Kiaya shimmied while Minerva asked the house elf that was still quietly watching to fetch a ball of string. The hated breasts jiggled and swayed obscenely, but the vest followed so nothing more than what was already showing was exposed. Willing to forgive every unkind word and sniff for this spell alone, Kiaya said gratefully, “Thank you, I was really worried about that part.”

Fleur shrugged off the thanks and gave more instructions. “One string of pearls here, dipped to here,” she poked a spot on Kiaya’s exposed mid-thigh, “to show off how bare her skin is ‘zere. Ano’zer string of pearls to wrap around ‘zee waist wiz’ ‘zee tail to ‘ang right ‘ere,” she said as she poked Kiaya in the groin. “Again, show off what all ‘zee men want and none will have.”

Kiaya was shocked into silence.

Minerva started, “Is that…?”

Fleur interrupted, “Wise – no. Beautiful – absolument. Now, I go. I miss my ‘usband and I know ‘e misses me.”

Almost overwhelmed, Kiaya said, “Mrs. Weasley, thank you so much for your help. I couldn’t have managed without you.”

“Of course not,” Fleur said, “but now you don't embarrass anyone.”

Kiaya blinked away the insult and thanked her again. Minerva chimed in her thanks as well.

“Mai non, it is the least ‘zat I can do for ‘zee Order,” she said as she swept out of the room in a swirl of blonde hair and perfume.

With only minimal grumbling, though a maximum of dour expressions and lip pursing, Minerva transfigured the string brought by Ellie, the house elf, into a balled string of creamy pearls. Kiaya resisted petting the lovely things, though did offer her compliments.

With a crisp apology for being fresh and a very Scottish lack of nonsense, Minerva attached the beads to the front of the vest at the fabric edges. The swags of pearls gave the illusion that she was far more covered than she really was, hiding at least some of the four inches between the fabrics. Muttering shirty comments about clothing fit for harem girls and French fashion, Minerva also attached pearls over Kiaya’s bare hips as instructed by Fleur. She wrapped a string of pearls around Kiaya’s belly, artfully draping it on her hips. The end teased Kiaya’s crotch and she thanked every God in heaven and hell that she didn’t have her period.

“Better. Not the best but at least it’s not in danger of falling off now” pronounced Minerva, surveying her handiwork. She offered Kiaya a conspiratorial smile and said, “I think it’s rather cute, actually, like you could just blink yourself into a genie bottle.”

Looking down at herself, Kiaya couldn’t see much more than pearls and cleavage, but she did agree that it was better.

Minerva gazed thoughtfully at Kiaya then her expression changed to something far more calculating. For a moment, Kiaya stopped imagining Severus’s arms around her and wondered what the lady was up to. Minerva cocked her head one way and then the other with a measuring look. Then, the lady smiled a cat-in-cream smile. While Kiaya wasn’t worried, the expression certainly told her that she had a starring role in something interesting.

“Do you trust me?” Minerva asked.

Without hesitation, though with wide eyes, Kiaya answered, “Of course.”

“There’s no ‘of course’ about it. Do you trust my skills and my character?”

Kiaya nodded mutely, her curiosity growing.

“Good. I want to transfigure you into a genie bottle for the presentation, then back during the bidding while you’re onstage.”

“Erm?”

“Oh, it’s perfectly safe,” assured Minerva, “but since you’d be an inanimate object d’art for a little while, I thought it prudent to ask.”

Kiaya, always one for offering up the stupid questions, asked, “Why, though?”

Minerva brightened a she replied, “Because it will be fun, novel and rather cute - and you can be assured that no one else will do it.”

Kiaya mused on it for a moment then shrugged. What could it hurt? Minerva would be able to transfigure her back. If anything, it would be a fun little gimmick (and she knew that every other participant would have a gimmick, too) that might make Severus smile. She nodded in agreement to the plan.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


Two and a half bloody hours. Auctioning eight people, Shimpling’s lame jokes and lamer magic skills dragged dinner out to two and a half hours. The story was that Shimpling’s skin was purple because he’d eaten an entire Venomous Tentacula, but Severus figured that some one likely shoved it down his throat just to shut him up. He contemplated a completely justified Killing curse if Shimpling made one more crack about the harem in the dungeons.

Dinner was neither as bad nor as boring as it usually was. Severus had to concede that it had more to do with the skill of the Hogwarts' house elves than with the Ministry finally spending a little more on the food and a little less on whatever they deemed “more important”- décor, costumes, a way to make themselves more visible at the function. The chicken wasn't as rubbery but was covered with spices that were obviously ordered by some Ministry flunky looking to make the food “exotic”. 'Well, at least it wouldn't kill anyone,' he thought.

The auction of the Weird Sisters band had kicked off the event. Parents of teenagers vied to “own” the band for ‘a night long concert and off-stage time with all of the members to make your party one to remember’. Severus thought that Persimina Parkinson and the Zabini black widow would come to blows while shrieking bids back and forth at each other. The band played three songs as a background while younger bidders and audience members danced and older ones cast Silencing Spells left and right. Both Parkinson and Zabini were shocked into silence when an elderly member of the Wizengamot called out an auction-killer for his granddaughter’s wedding reception, topping the last bid by 50 galleons.

Gwenog Jones, Beater for the Holyhead Harpies, had entered on a broom and teased Shimpling for the entire length of her auction. She refused to drop down to the stage, preferring to fly loops and zoom around upside down over the audience. The winner of her auction was the manager for the Chudley Cannons, Ragmar Dorkins, inspiring groans and gasps of outrage. Severus sincerely hoped that Jones would teach the Cannons a thing or three during the promised weekend-long workshop.

Celestina Warbeck sang her way into the room and serenaded the bidders for a night-long concert. Fred and George Weasley, when called, had dashed on stage and fired off several fireworks to the delighted shrieks and murmurs of the crowd and the dismay of the Aurors guarding the event. Alexander Filippi sketched a drawing of Hogwarts that was also auctioned off. The owner of the Nimbus Racing Broom Company’s auction petered out at about 5 galleons less than the retail price of their newest model.

Finally, dessert, a balaclava served with a bowl of exotic fruit, arrived. With it, Shimpling stepped back onstage after a short conversation with Minerva McGonagall. Severus dug into the sweet and fruit, fortifying himself for the coming battle.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I offer you…”

An expectant hush fell over the audience.

One of the middle Weasleys, with an officious air about him, walked onstage holding a fancy bottle that was a tall as his forearm. He set the thing on the floor, right in the middle of the spotlight and walked away. Severus examined the thing before smirking. It looked just like her - petite, shapely and pale.

Shimpling let the audience study the bottle for a moment before gingerly picking it up. “Ladies and gentlemen, this exquisite bottle is the next auction.” He let a murmur ripple thought the crowd. “It’s no genie, but this bottle fetched six hundred galleons in the nominations alone!”

Another murmur ran through the crowd as people flipped through their programs to try to find out who it was. Whispers hissed through the crowd as a slow smirk settled on Severus’s lips. He snuck a glance at Malfoy - who wore the same smile.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this bottle is covered in pearls,” Shimpling said, stroking the sides of the thing. Severus gritted his teeth as Shimpling caressed the bottle like a woman – well… a woman who could feel and enjoy what he was doing. “We know it’s valuable already. Who will give me twenty Galleons for what’s inside?” Malfoy’s hand lazily rose – along with about ten others. Severus planned to wait before stealing her from under Malfoy’s nose.

“Twenty galleons in front, who will give me twenty-five?”

Again hands shot up. Shimpling pointed to Mr. Pilliwickle. “There’s twenty-five, who has more for what’s in this beautiful bottle?”

A voice from the back called out, “Thirty!”

Another topped it without prompting, “Forty!”

Malfoy rolled his eyes and called out, “One hundred.”

Severus shook his head as several groans echoed in the room. He wondered if they really thought they’d be getting a bargain.

“That’s more like it!” praised Shimpling as he set the bottle back on the floor. “This lovely little bottle holds quite a prize! It’s more than a bottle as those of you who haven’t yet lost your programs have seen. This little bottle is going to refill your potions closet with no less than fifteen different potions over the course of two days! You all know how much that would cost at an apothecary or directly from the maker! What say you?” demanded Shimpling.

“One-fifty,” called an old matron.

“One hundred seventy,” called another.

Old Mr. Pilliwickle shouted, “Two hundred!”

“There’s Two hundred galleons! Is there two-fifty?”

“Two-fifty!” came from the back.

“Three-fifty,” said Malfoy, loud enough to be heard by most of the room.

“Four hundred!” yelled Mr. Pilliwickle.

Severus shook his head. That was a lot of Vin Mariani.

“Five hundred,” answered Malfoy to grumbles from the back of the room.

“Five-fifty,” croaked Mr. Pilliwickle. There was a distinct edge to his voice. The man was wealthy, but five hundred fifty galleons was a great deal of money.

“Six hundred galleons,” said Severus, looking only at the bottle.

Several whispers of, “Why does he need potions… oh!” slid through the room.

“Six hundred galleons! The auction has matched the lovely lady’s nomination price! I was told she’d be happy to come out of her hiding spot for that!” shouted Shimpling, bouncing around the stage.

“About bloody time,” muttered Severus.

“Give the lady a warm welcome! Come on, help me here!” yelled Shimpling, starting to applaud.

The audience obliged.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I give you – no, no, I sell you, the loveliest Potions Mistress that I've never seen, really folks, what does this bird look like? Miss Kiaya Roundtree!”

As bidden, the audience clapped more. Snape watched McGonagall point her wand and mutter the spell. The bottle grew and turned into Kiaya in only a second.

Rather disoriented and facing the back wall of the room that was draped in purple fabric, Kiaya popped back into consciousness. She’d heard the goings on around her but had been unable to really process anything about them. She knew she now stood on the stage, rather than in her rooms – and was rather glad that she was again normal and facing the wrong way. She was posed as she’d been when Minerva had transfigured her, with her hands pressed together over her head and one foot in front of the other. Severus said he’d be on the right side, closest to the stage, on the wall side – but she resisted peeking.

Shimpling backed up to look at her then winked outrageously. She couldn’t help herself. The purple-tinged man was just too ridiculous not to wink back at him. Shimpling grasped his chest over his heart and stumbled back, pretending an attack. Kiaya just giggled. Trusting in herself (and the potion) she took a deep breath and followed orders. Slowly, trying to be as teasing as possible, Kiaya turned only her head to look at Shimpling. She lowered one arm to just behind her hip, the other, she used to blow an audacious kiss to Shimpling.

He recovered from his attack and caught the imaginary kiss and boldly put it in his front trouser pocket Kiaya blushed and giggled, half glad that she couldn’t see Severus’s face from that angle.

She turned the other way to look over her shoulder at the murmuring audience before turning to face them. She let her hips lead the movement and raised her hands into a Fleur-approved pose, glad for the potions and having something to do besides stand there like a lump.

Shimpling gave her a broad once-over and a chortle. He winked, catcalled and then said, “Oh yeah, boys, that’s more than Six hundred galleons. I bid six-fifty!”

“Seven hundred,” said both Severus and Lucius at the same time.

“Seven hundred fifty,” snapped Severus.

“Eight hundred,” replied Lucius with a glare.

Kiaya surveyed the room, trying to tune out the farce below. Only a few of the other ‘slaves’ sat close enough to the stage for her to see – and felt better right away. She was glad that she wasn’t the only one who’d modified her clothing. Celestina Warbeck (who had Kiaya rather starstruck) added a shawl to cover her bare shoulders and Madam Rosemerta had wrapped a scarf around her hips to hide the side slit in her skirt that went all the way to her waist. Alexander Filippi, the portrait artist had dried paint smeared on his shirt, vest and loose trousers.

“Eight hundred fifty.”

“Nine hundred,” said Lucius.

Severus glanced at Narcissa. Her jaw was clenched and there was a fine line between her perfectly sculpted eyebrows. He said clearly, “Nine-fifty.”

“One thousand!” shouted Lucius, his eyes bright with excitement. He leaned across the table as the crowd chattered. “Give it up, Severus. You know I can go all night.”

Narcissa leaned forward and murmured, “Lucius…”

Lucius ignored her.

Kiaya looked over the audience, carefully avoiding looking at him but praying that Severus was enjoying the sight of her and wiggled her hips, hoping to give him a smile. Despite the potion, she felt rather foolish she shifted her pose again, wishing it was against his body and they were both naked. She rested her wrists close to her bum, thrusting the ridiculous breasts out – though she did admit that the top did look quite… interesting as it was filled out. At least Severus approved of them – that was something good. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and shimmied her shoulders, setting her breasts and the pearls a-sway.

Shimpling mimed being knocked back and played to the audience. He made a broad gesture of wiping drool from the corner of his mouth as Kiaya giggled. He stumbled forward again and looked around blearily before saying, “I’ve lost track here. Where were we?”

Kiaya resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

“Eleven hundred galleons,” replied Snape, watching his woman and deliberately ignoring Lucius.

“Twelve hundred,” Lucius said in the same tone.

It was interesting, thought Kiaya. If she unfocussed her eyes, the sea of faces looked like her seventh year Ravenclaw-Hufflepuff class – well, multiplied a few times. Taking a few deep breaths – which only made Shimpling mop his brow, she silently thanked Severus for the Felix Felicis potion. She could handle this – well, as least as well as she managed her classes.

She glanced at the people sharing Severus’s table. Malfoy sat across from him. His beautiful blonde wife sat next to him, looking faintly irritated. A pudgy dishwater blonde looked delightedly catty as she leaned toward Narcissa, speaking. Mrs. Malfoy’s face was serene when she answered, though. The pudgy blonde leaned back in her seat and spoke to another woman in a cobalt and fur dress that she was about to fall out of. That woman then leaned over to harsh-looking woman in a hideous brown dress. Kiaya marveled. These people really were like her students, gossiping in class. Again, she focused on Severus and smiled, not afraid to show her adoration. His answering smile was sardonic.

“Fifteen.”

“Sixteen.”

Wren Stickly-Smythe, Lucius’s most recent former mistress called from a nearby table, “those are some expensive potions, Narcissa.”

“Seventeen.”

Persimina Parkinson, wearing a horrific blue and fur dress, leaned close and said loud enough for several table to hear, “That’s really generous of you, Narcissa.”

Narcissa’s expression went from her mockery of serene to poisonous. She took Lucius’s arm most gracefully but Severus could see her white knuckles – she was squeezing hard.

Lucius gave his wife a thunderous look. “Eighteen.”

“That’s right, gentlemen, this so generous! Remember all proceeds of this auction go to St. Mungo's! The last bid was eighteen hundred galleons. Is there nineteen?”

Severus flicked a finger into the air. “Nineteen.”

“Two thousand!”

A ripple of disbelief moved through the crowd. Even Celestina Warbeck had ‘only’ brought eighteen hundred galleons. Confused murmurs asking who this Roundtree woman was and why she was really up there filled the room.

Persimina Parkinson leaned over and said in a tone of faux wonder, “Hmmm Narcissa, Lucius must be really desperate for her…” she paused just long enough to be insulting, “potions.”

Narcissa’s face looked like it would crack, it was so pinched. Shrill and brittle, her answering laugh was a little bit too loud.

Severus knew she was close to her breaking point. He caressed his wand and invoked a Hearing spell. The din of the room almost overwhelmed him but he concentrated on the Malfoys. He deliberately raised his next bid to an embarrassing number, “Twenty-five hundred.”

Lucius opened his mouth to counter, but before he could speak, Narcissa leaned close and hissed in his ear, “I don’t care what you do to me but if you embarrass me any further, I will get up right now and walk out.”

Lucius spun around in his chair with a look that promised a vile retribution. A movement over his wife’s shoulder distracted Malfoy and his usual urbane mask shuttered his face again. His oily tone was heard by several neighboring tables. “My sweet love, it was all for charity, but I think you’re right. Let’s let Severus have this little crumb.”

Her jaw tight but with a benevolent smile, Narcissa agreed and promised a healthy donation to the hospital.

Lucius bow to Severus was an insulting flourish. “I concede this round, Severus.”

Derwent Shimpling bounced around the stage and crowed, “Two thousand five hundred galleons for two days of Potion Mistress Kiaya Roundtree’s labor and fifteen potions, going once… going twice… going three times… and gone to Potion Master Severus Snape!” He pumped his elbow in the manner of every old-school comedian and added, “Somehow, I don’t think it’s the lady’s potion skills that he was bidding on!”

As the audience knowingly tittered, Shimpling directed Kiaya to descend the stairs to sit with Severus before beginning his patter introducing the final ‘slave’ for auction, Albus Dumbledore.

Malfoy rose; his hand was raised to politely assist her down. Kiaya, forced to accept lest she look surly, placed only her fingertips in his hand as she descended. Once she was on the floor, Lucius bowed and kissed her hand. Severus dealt with the Ministry minion assigned to paperwork and Gringott’s promissory notes.

“A beautiful woman and a worthy prize. We are so honored that you agreed to this silly little diversion. I do hope that I can still entice you to share your gifts with me – perhaps for another donation to St. Mungos?”

Kiaya was saved from answering by Severus’s sharp voice.

“Kiaya.”

She looked at him, still shocked that he used her name in public – or at all. Though his face was hard, her heart melted and she smiled blissfully. Ignoring Malfoy, Kiaya padded to Severus, hesitating only a few feet away. At the flick of his fingers, she moved closer and knelt as gracefully as she could on the hard stone floor as she’d been instructed to do a dozen times.

Though Shimpling pattered on, citing Dumbledore’s great deeds, the guests at three tables in the corner of the room kept all eyes on the tiny drama hidden in the shadows.

“Why are you at my feet?” Snape asked Kiaya.

They’d rehearsed the conversation and Kiaya’s answer was soft, clear and full of love. “Because I am yours.”

He pulled the Concubind out of his pocket and quoted from memory, “If the servant shall plainly say, I love my Master … then her Master shall bore her ear through with an aul, and she shall serve him forever.”

“What’s that mean?” the pudgy dishwater blonde at the table asked in a loud, grating voice.

The black widow Zabini snarled her answer, “It’s from The Bible, Alecto. It means that she’s about to be his bond-maid. He’ll never get rid of her.”

A small Slicing Hex drew a thin line of blood from Severus’s palm. He quickly drew the spikes of the Concubind through the red as Dumbledore spoke of tolerance, peace and understanding.

Kiaya whimpered at his self-inflicted wound and held her hands up to grasp his. She was surprised when he didn’t draw away as she whispered a simple healing charm over his skin. The wound sealed itself. She murmured another charm to Banish the smear of blood still on his palm then pressed her face into his hand, dropping kisses where the cut had been.

A movement of his fingers drew her gaze to his. She pledged herself to him and to his plot with the simple words that would seal her fate and bind herself to him. “I love you, Master.”

His lips twisted in triumph and he lifted the Concubind to show her the snapping jaws that the spikes looked like. The gems all glittered evilly in the muted candlelight.

The huge blond sitting next to Snape gawked at it. “Damn, Snape. That thing’s going to take bits of her ear off when you take it off.”

Severus replied, “Who said it was ever coming off?”

“Is this really an appropriate time for this kind of thing?” asked Lucius sounding bored but looking furious.

“Oh yes, this is the perfect time. She’s mine. Bought and paid for.”

“You’ve a lot of nerve bringing a Concubind to a charity event. It’s supposed to be a lark, not some Turkish marketplace. Why not just stand up and yell out that you’ve taken her for a pleasure slave? I’m sure the Daily Prophet would be glad to write all about it,” he snarled.

Dumbledore spoke from the stage, thanking the audience members for coming and hoping they enjoyed their time once again at Hogwarts. Severus ignored him.

“You organized it, Lucius – you should have known how it would be taken and you’ve forgotten my family’s motto. Audeo.” Severus answered with an equally savage smile. He twisted the Concubind so that it flashed in the light and commanded Kiaya, “Say it again.”

She lost herself in his glittering black eyes. “I love you, Master.”

Carefully, he set the Concubind on her ear. The first spike pierced her flesh. She whimpered her pain and bit her lip. The Concubind gave her a moment’s respite.

As the audience started their bidding for Dumbledore, Severus cupped Kiaya’s cheek in his other hand and commanded again, “Say it.”

As each spike drove into her ear, tears welled in her eyes. As focused on him as she was, she couldn’t control them. He had told her it would hurt. He hadn’t told her that it would be agony. She whispered, “I love you, Master.”

When the earring was secure and Kiaya’s head was bent in exhaustion and pain, Severus wiped away the trickle of her blood from her neck and murmured a quick Healing Spell to staunch the rivulet of blood. He pressed a kiss to her cheek and murmured another spell to ease the pain.

He stood and helped Kiaya to her feet, silently holding her up as her knees screamed in pain and buckled from so long on the hard stone. He looked around the table, stopping at the Malfoys. “Ladies and gentlemen, I must bid you an early goodnight. I have,” he looked at Kiaya with a salacious smirk, “pressing business. Goodnight.”

As he’d planned, Kiaya smiled as best she could and whispered her goodnight before being led away, escaping behind a curtain that blocked the teacher entrance to the Great Hall.

He swept her down the stairs and into his rooms. Giving her no time to investigate he said, “Go to the toilet, wash up for the night then get into bed. Do not even think of exiting the room wearing your clothes.”

She smiled softly, exhaustion weighing her body down and kissed him gently before obeying. At the door to his bedroom, she turned to look at him again and said once again, “I love you, Master.”

He nodded his head and said, “Go to bed, little kitten. I’ll be back soon.”

Assuming his rooms were similar to hers, she trudged into his bedroom and then into the toilet. Her mind was in a strange state of exhausted elation. She followed instructions as she tried very hard not to think of anything but his smile of approval. Leaving her clothing folded on the counter, she left the room. He was nowhere to be seen, as he told her he’d be patrolling the grounds as people left. She climbed into the side of his bed that had less stuff on the night table, shivered at the chilly sheets and was asleep before her mind ever wandered away from his face.

Severus left the castle through a little known and less used doorway. He cast Disillusionment and Warming Charms on himself and made his way to the front of the castle to watch for anyone that might avoid the thestral-drawn carriages and try to stay on school grounds after everyone left. Severus was confident that the Aurors and Order would successfully shuffle everyone out of the castle but no one wanted outside duty.

By the time he made it around the castle, people were already trickling out. Each one climbed into the coaches that would take them to the Apparation point outside the gates or to the train station in Hogsmeade.

While looking for a good place to lean, out of the worst of the storm, Severus spied a sight that was too good to resist. A long black tail peeked out from under a bush. Deliberately, he stepped on it.

A flurry of barking and a cannon of black fur erupted from the boxwood. In an instant, Sirius black transformed and drew his wand on the already aiming Snape.

“Why are you here and not protecting Arielle and Jasmine?” he demanded.

“I was ordered here, along with the rest of the Order and Aurors, excepting Remus,” Sirius said, as if to a dolt.

Looking for a reason to kill Black - or at least put him into Dumbledore’s ill graces, Snape asked, “Why?”

“To make sure the bad guys all stay in one supervised spot. I got the short straw and have outside duty. I assume you have it because you’re an arse?”

Snape lifted his arm higher. “Why isn’t Lupin here instead?”

“He’s persona non grata, thanks to you. He can’t show up in a crowd like this without some society bitch having a tantrum.” He glared at Snape and added with a smirk, “I’m just a mangy mutt who skulks around pretty well. No one will see me - unless you plan on announcing my presence to the world, too.”

“If anything happens to them because you’re here nattering on….”

“Nothing will, Snape. Arielle is in bed and Faust is sitting right next to her. Remus isn’t letting Jasmine out of his sight. Buckbeak, Florentine and that stupid goat are all loose in the yard ready to attack anyone that steps through the gate that isn’t me - you included. The doors, windows and even the Floo are all warded, in addition to what’s normally there. Dumbledore’s Garden is a fortress,” Sirius said.

Snape looked at him and asked, “And you’re sure that I’m really Severus Snape, now that you’ve told me exactly what it in and guarding that house?”

Sirius growled and raised his wand.

“Idiot,” Snape scoffed. “I can’t wait for the day when someone kills you again because you didn’t stop and think. What if it wasn’t me? You’d have just put my daughter and Jasmine in grave danger.”

“I….”

“When are you going to figure out that you can’t … yammer on like a child or go haring off to save the day or because it’d be fun? You’re going to get someone killed. I hope to God it isn’t me or one of mine.” Snape hissed and melted into the shadows to seek another place to watch from.

It was more than an hour of waiting and watching before the last Auror and Order member left the school and the men saw Hagrid releasing the first of the thestrals from their traces. Dumbledore stood at the great doors and bid both men goodnight. Severus bowed and headed downstairs, planning to let the lady in his bed sleep, just this once. Sirius took the last carriage to the gates – to go home.

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A/N: Is anyone reading this? Anyone?