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Weft of Power, Warp of Blood: A Tapestry of Desire	By : CMW Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 11953 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Anti-Litigation Charm: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story, though wish I did. The only money I have goes toward good wine and chocolate. You can't

Chapter List
- 63
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Chapter Fifty-Three

A New Year, A New Day, A New Hope

“I’m sorry, Sirius, but I can not, as you well know.” Dumbledore’s tone was grave and his eyes lacked any hint of sparkle behind his half-moon glasses.

“Please, Dumbledore. I know things are insane right now, but please. I want to marry her. I need to marry her,” begged Sirius as they walked around the meadow behind Dumbledore’s Garden refreshing the wards. Sirius had asked for a moment to speak with the old man and together they performed the chore. Sirius walked backward, keeping eye contact, his hands outstretched and gesturing emphatically

“The second the marriage is registered, the Ministry will know where you are and you’ll both be in danger,” replied Dumbledore. “I can not allow Jasmine and Arielle to be hurt, even in making any kind of relationship official.”

“I’ll take care of her – of them. I swear. Nothing would happen to them, especially with Remus here, too. Not even the Ministry could get through your wards, if by some odd chance anyone in the Ministry could pull their collective head out of their collective arse….”

“Not until I can convince Cornelius Fudge to exonerate you. Until then, you will always be in danger.”

Sirius tried to play Devil’s Advocate, trying to wheedle away at Dumbledore’s logic. “But I’m in danger anyway, right? Just by being here. What could….”

Dumbledore interrupted him with a shake of his head, his beard flying in the breeze of an upcoming storm. “The Ministry does not now know where you are. If marriage documents are filed, before you could even kiss your bride they’ll be here, drag you off, to Azkaban, and hand you to the Dementors to be kissed by one of them instead.”

“But….”

“Sirius, I like you, I always have, no matter the silly, stupid, or dangerous things you’ve done in your past . I want my all of girls to be happy – and if playing house with you makes Jasmine happy, then so be it. But you may not make yourself known to the Ministry and endanger either them or yourself. I won’t allow it.” Piercing blue eyes were steady on desperate slate grey ones. “This will all come to a head soon. Not as soon as you may wish, but soon. Don’t rush to make my Jasmine a widow before it’s needed, please.”

With a wave of Sirius’s hand, frustration and anger blew a hole in the green meadow, on the edge of the rabbit warren, sending a dozen rabbits racing in terror. Two rabbits lay dead in the rain of dirt and rocks and Sirius dropped his head to a fencepost, banging it over and over. Jasmine was going to kill him … worse, perhaps, Arielle would cry. He growled a long string of invective into the wood.

“Just so. Please do be ready to escort the ladies to the New Year’s Festival. They are quite insistent but I’d like for you all to go early and get home well before dark. However, until then, I suggest that you stay outside until you are able to calm down.” With that, Dumbledore ambled back to the house, calling for the house elf to change her dinner plans to hasenpfeffer.

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

His balls tightened as Kiaya's teeth scraped, ever so lightly against his shaft. He groaned in pleasure as her tongue flicked in the most delightful way.

A sharp rap on the door.

She gasped and froze for a quick moment before falling on her arse and scrambling backwards. Panicked, she ripped her blindfold off as she scooted backwards, toward the bedroom. Kiaya looked at Master – she no longer thought of him as anything but.

Thunderous. He looked ready to kill. Her.

“Stop!” he growled.

She stopped without even the thought of disobeying, though she whimpered.

He snapped his fingers. Kiaya hastened to her place and position at his feet. Thighs parted wide and showing glistening pink, wrists crossed behind her back, her bottom on her feet. She easily fell into the position that was so much habit by now. Her expression, though, defied his order. Instead of gazing calmly over Master’s shoulder, Kiaya’s eyes, wide with worry, were on the door.

As he zipped his trousers, he snarled, “That was not beautiful, not graceful, and in no way attractive. When you are serving, you do not stop unless I give permission. Is that understood?”

“But the door....”

“Is there anything in my behaviour or manner that leads you to suspect that I am deaf?” His voice dripped acid – a tone she hadn’t heard in almost two weeks of almost twenty-four hour training as his slave and lover.

Kiaya bit her lower lip and shook her head, not meeting his gaze and hating his censure. Master was clearly disappointed; Kiaya hadn’t expected the crushing guilt that filled her. She’d been born to please him and his displeasure was an anathema. “No, Master.”

He only glared at her, Summoned the blindfold from the floor and wrapped it around her eyes.

“Don’t move. Don’t speak unless I give you permission.”

She nodded, not daring to speak until she heard him rise. “Master....”

He gave an irritated sigh from the direction of the door. “Yes?”

“Please...” she took a deep breath. “I’m naked.”

“As you haven’t worn clothing in nearly two weeks, I’m well aware of your state of undress. Until I hand you clothing, you’ll remain that way. Now quiet.” He opened the door. His voice was flat when he said, “Good morning, Headmaster. Have you had breakfast yet?”

“I have, indeed, Severus, thank you.” The door closed after a rustle of heavy robes as Dumbledore continued. “I ate with Jasmine and Arielle.”

Kiaya stayed frozen, kneeling in her place next to Master’s chair. Utterly humiliated, she could only listen and concentrate the million fibres of wool digging into her knees, shins, and feet from the rug. Snape was silent.

“I do apologize for interrupting you, but I wanted to remind you both that the new term begins tomorrow.” His voices sounded a touch too merry to be just coming down for a reminder.

“I do remember, Headmaster,” Snape’s voice was repressive.

“Also, Kiaya has received several pieces of mail in the last several days.”

“Anything of note?”

“Why, Severus, you know that opening another person’s mail is illegal.” Dumbledore sounded amused.

Kiaya steamed in silence and utter humiliation, naked, on the floor, and blindfolded. They opened her mail? She was naked and they opened her mail?

Severus was silent for a moment. “Right. Is there anything that I – or she – needs to look at?”

Dumbledore chuckled. “Nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow. A couple of bills for the shop, a request for several potions from one of her apothecary clients and … this, which I assume you will want to handle yourself.”

Kiaya heard the rustle of parchment over the pounding of her heart in her ears.

“Malfoy.”

“Quite.”

Silence again, while Severus read. Kiaya was close to demanding the letter be handed over, but not quite desperate enough to risk more of Master’s wrath. Naked. In front of her employer. The greatest living wizard in the world. Naked. Kneeling. Her flush must have covered her entire body.

“The nerve…” growled Severus.

“I rather thought so myself.”

Kiaya bit the inside of her lip to keep from shrieking at Master and her employer. Humiliation, curiosity and rage battled together in the pit of her stomach. She was naked! Didn’t she deserve a few privacies? She’d already given up her body, and sometimes she rather thought, her mind… couldn’t she at least have her mail? Mail seemed like it ought to be somehow sacred, even if one was unclothed for 24 hours a day. She bit back a growl. Apparently not.

“Your nails are digging into your wrists. Release them.”

Ouch. He was right, damn him. Deliberately, slowly, finger by finger, she unclenched her hands. Nude.

“Thank you. Just send everything down. I’ll deal with it later.” He rested his hand on the top of her head.

Immediately she started calming, though didn’t quite know why she felt better. She was still bare in front of her employer. Taking deep breaths, she reminded herself that he owned her: heart, body, and apparently, mail. She agreed to his rules and needs and, as per their agreement, sacrificed her own. Several deep breaths and several strokes of his long fingers through her hair later, while the men discussed Malfoy’s letter, she’d managed to melt most of the stress from her shoulders. Silly girl. She hadn’t realized that the lack of his touch and concentration would affect her so. That, plus the irritation at having others invade her privacy, had combined into more stress than was really prudent. Trust. Again, she really needed to work on trusting him and letting him handle silly things like Malfoy the senior.

“I’ll also deal with Malfoy. He knows better than to try to take what’s mine – sweet little invitation to give up a donation to St. Mungo’s in exchange for potions or not. That’s why we did this in the first place.”

“What do you intend?”

“First a small chat. No need to remove his lungs via his nostrils just yet.”

Dumbledore chuckled. “You might find the opportunity for that conversation today.”

Silence.

Dumbledore prompted, “The New Year’s Festival in Hogsmeade. You said that you’d assist in chaperoning today, then there’s New Year’s dinner at Jasmine’s. The entire family is coming – you should, too.”

Silence. “I had forgotten about that.”

“Understandable. You’ve been… busy. It would, however, also be a wonderful chance for you to see Arielle. This morning, she mentioned that she hadn’t seen you for a while.”

“As you said, I’ve been busy,” Severus sounded like he was gritting his teeth.

Kiaya had wondered several times if Master had seen his daughter. He’d only left on Christmas Day to spend a few hours with the little girl. Kiaya had slept in and meditated on her subservience to him on his order. Now, it seemed, she’d be alone again today. The thought sent a touch of worry through her.

“Will Miss Roundtree be joining us for the festivities?”

The question sounded offhand but Kiaya knew that nothing Dumbledore ever said really was, despite sounding like a dotty old man half the time.

Begrudgingly, it sounded like, Severus said, “I see a million reasons why not, but she may as well get used to people again before term begins, especially the children. It also wouldn’t hurt to have her… confirm her unavailability to Malfoy.”

Out? They were going to leave his rooms? The thought terrified her. His rooms were safe. They were a haven where she could love him without limits or fear and learn to breathe him and only him without an audience. She didn’t want to deal with people or children or… the inevitable staring. She just wanted to curl up in her Master’s lap and be left alone by the lot.

“I want her back here before the mess starts, though.”

“Do you really think….”

Severus’s reply was immediate, interrupting Dumbledore, “I haven’t heard anything but it seems logical. I would if I were him.”

“I see. Will you come to lunch first?”

Severus sneered, though his long fingers stroked her hair, “Yes, we’ll be there. She must go up sometime. Better now than being inundated tomorrow.”

“Indeed,” replied Dumbledore, then he paused. “May I?”

“Yes.” A gentle squeeze of Severus’s hand in her hair accompanied the word.

Kiaya felt the air move around her as she heard a rustle of cloth.

“Kiaya, I am very proud of you. You performed very well the evening of the auction and Severus tells me that you are fulfilling your duties admirably.”

He was speaking to her? She blinked behind the blindfold, her cheeks heating even more. She again resisted the urge to cover herself as much as any totally naked, exposed woman possibly could. Every muscle in her thighs tensed and Kiaya screamed at herself not to move. Taking a deliberate breath, she said, “Thank you, Sir.”

“You’re very welcome, Kiaya. Now, are you well and happy?”

What a question! If she wasn’t, she wouldn’t be likely to say it right in front of Master, now would she? She answered simply and honestly, “Yes, Sir.”

“Excellent. I do have other appointments, but I want to make sure that you never forget that you are beautiful – now and always.”

Shock and mortification was tinged with relief and a touch of something else. Pride, perhaps, or vanity, gratefulness, at his kindness and certainly gladness that Master had spent so long working to make her feel beautiful. Really quite glad for the blindfold so she wouldn’t have to look at Dumbledore, she murmured again, “Thank you.”

“You’re most welcome, Kiaya. I’ll see you both later,” said Dumbledore in his gentle-grandfather tone, then the door opened and closed.

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

As she stood in line at the huge front doors to the castle, Hermione Granger thought that lunch was certainly interesting. For the first time since the ministry auction, Professors Roundtree and Snape had both been present for the meal. Hermione had heard that they were in the castle but neither had been seen in days. There hadn’t been a single complaint about Professor Snape roaming the halls after curfew to catch trysting (or in Harry's case – sneaking) students. Professor Roundtree hadn't been in her classroom brewing potions as she normally did over the weekend, either, according to a Hufflepuff who’d gone down to ask some questions about homework. It certainly looked like Professors Snape and Roundtree were actually together now, rather than the silly rumour that had been circulating last year. Professor Roundtree was leaning toward Snape, as though to ask his opinion of the food and whether she should eat it. Hermione gazed curiously at the familiar selection of sandwiches. They all seemed fine.”

Harry and Hermione had stayed over the holidays. Mr. and Mrs Weasley had taken Ron and Ginny to visit Prewett relatives in Ireland. Charlie (Hermione still had a little trouble calling him Professor Weasley) had gone as well. Harry was training in Occlumency and more self-defence with Professor Dumbledore. She had stayed for moral support and to revise as much as possible while Harry attended his very secret lessons.

She’d received a note from Remus during lunch as well. Reaching into her pocket, Hermione rubbed her thumb over the corner of it. She didn’t need to take it out; she’d already memorized the thing.

Dear Hermione,

Again, thank you so much for the copy of Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s poetry. I am still quite mortified remembering the circumstances that I last heard her words, that day last summer. Still, embarrassment aside, reading them calms and eases my mind when the wind shrieks over the mountain.

I wondered if you will be joining Harry in Hogsmeade today for the New Year's Festival. I’d like to (there was a large drop of ink, as though Remus has stopped writing to think for a moment) thank you in person.

(a second drop of ink)

Yours,

Remus J. Lupin

Hermione smiled what she knew was a rather secretive smile and shook her head when Harry asked why she was smiling. He only shrugged. Hermione marvelled at how incurious he was. Boys…. She shook her head again and thought about Ron – or, rather, “Won-Won” being cooed every two minutes in Lavender's high-pitched voice. Ron just ate it up, rather like he ate everything, with gusto and greed. Glad she wasn’t dating him anymore, Hermione mused over the amount of time and trouble it took to soothe Ron’s ego and prompt Harry to just do… something to protect himself. Were all teenaged males like that? If they were, Hermione wanted nothing to do with them.

Minutes later, the ten or so sixth and seventh years who had stayed over met their “escorts” at the Hogwarts gates. Their escorts were, of course, several members of the Order of the Phoenix: Mad-Eye Moody, Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Hestia Jones and the always be-hatted Dedalus Diggle. Professors McGonagall, Dumbledore, Flitwick, Snape and Roundtree completed the set of adults (apart from the Aurors already posted in town for the festival) who would protect them, should the need arise. After a round of greetings, introductions, and exhortations to ‘stay with the group’, the gates opened with a wave of Dumbledore’s hand.

“Remember, directly to the Three Broomsticks. We’ll meet the others there,” called Dumbledore as they filed onto the road.

As they walked, Harry leaned over and whispered, “We’re meeting Padfoot there.” Of course, everyone could hear him because Harry never could manage discretion.

Mandy Brocklehurst, the Nosey, asked, “Who’s Padfoot?”

Harry spluttered.

Before he could say something that would only intrigue Mandy more, Hermione answered with a simple, “He’s a dog down in the village. Harry likes him.”

She thought that she heard Professor Snape snort behind her but when she looked back, she only saw him speaking with Professor Roundtree. She looked away and smiled. They were together. It was completely obvious, the way she was looking at him, leaning into him and how Professor Snape was holding Professor Roundtree’s… wrist… how odd.

Two hours of walking and laughter later, they’d visited every shop and kiosk in Hogsmeade. Hermione's toes were cold; she had cramps and her purse was filled with books, several new quills, chocolates and ice mice, as well as Harry's bag of candy and toys from Zonko's and Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. Harry was nowhere to be seen but Hermione knew he hid behind the Hogs Head with Sirius, chatting while Moody stood guard and lookout. Strolling musicians, jugglers (well, men making balls dance in the air with their wands, and small children dashing to and fro made everything seem festive. The Weasley twins pattered to the crowd outside of Zonko’s, where they’d convinced old man Zonko to rent them a spot in return for part of their profits. Hermione thought to herself that the long haired fiddle player in the purple kilt had particularly nice knees and wondered if the kilt was bespelled not to flip up in the breeze.

Hermione, Tonks, Mandy Brocklehurst stood at a long table on the edge of town laughing with Jasmine Swan and Professor Snape’s daughter. Professor Roundtree smiled hesitantly, her eyes moving from the crowd and to Professor Snape every few seconds. It was a New Years’ ritual, Tonks had said as she dragged the women to the table. No one took it seriously except for the woman in medieval looking robes behind the table. She seemed to be taking herself very seriously, indeed, and used a floaty tone similar to that twit Trelawney. “Ladies, this is ancient magic – laugh if you will,” she sniffed, “this magic is so old that even Muggles have copied this ritual since time eternal, though I’m sure it doesn’t always work for them.” The lady spread her arms wide. ‘Before you, is a ball of gingerbread dough. With your hands alone – no wands – you will form the shape of a man – your future husband. However!” The word was shouted, “You must keep your eyes closed for this, thinking only of the qualities that you most want in a husband. Your thoughts, your dreams, your wishes will bespell the dough! Remember, no peeking!”

Arielle giggled, poked at the dough and whispered so that everyone at the table could hear, “Mama, do I hafta make a husband? Daddy said I can’t even date until I’m forty and this’ll just make him mad.”

Professor Snape muttered from his place behind Professor Roundtree, “Better believe it, little girl.”

Jasmine snickered and said, “Just make a gingerbread friend.”

“Are you making a gingerbr….”

Jasmine cut her off with a quick “Shhh. Listen.”

The woman looked irritated at the interruption and continued, “After you finish, keep your eyes closed and pull out your wands. Begin!”

Each woman and girl at the tables, Hermione included, giggled nervously or unbelievingly and began.

“Mama, it’s gooshy!” called Arielle loudly, as though having her eyes closed meant that her mother couldn’t hear her.

Everyone laughed. The aura of ceremony was broken. The fiddle player started a cheerful tune nearby. The giggling and chatter that always happens in a group of friendly women began immediately. Hermione grinned and laughed along and tried hard to just make a gingerbread man with the right number of limbs and features in the right places. She had no need for a gingerbread husband – or any kind of husband, for that matter, but thought that it’d be nice if the fellow didn’t fall apart as she ate it. Once she was finished, in a moment of whimsy, she added a book to his hand and hoped that it wasn’t his head that she smooshed it on to.

“Now, ladies, the spell to bake your gingerbread husband is ‘Coque’.” When the giggles died down, she continued. “Hold your wand and the spell for a count of ten. Don’t worry. I’ll come along and make sure your wand is pointed properly. Madam, I shall bake your daughter’s so you may concentrate.”

Once the woman had pointed her wand for her, Hermione baked her cookie – eyes still closed, though she rather felt like she both looked like an idiot and that someone was staring at her. The fiddler counted out the time with music while the crowd clapped in time. Nine… ten. Finished at last! She opened her eyes when the lady clucked at Tonks about counting for a rather long time.

“Look, Mama! It’s my husband!” Arielle peeked at her father who looked more cross than usual and amended, “I mean… my friend. Which part should I bite first?”

Everyone watching laughed – even Professor Snape cracked a smile. Hermione noticed his hand rested on Professor Roundtree’s hip and she was standing close enough to him to rub her shoulder against his chest.

“Remember, ladies, tonight, place your gingerbread husband under your pillow and you will dream of your future husband’s face. Tomorrow, if you give the gingerbread husband to that man, you will marry within the year!”

“Ah, ladies, let’s have a look!” called Professor Dumbledore.

Automatically, Hermione looked down, expecting an arm sticking out of its head and a leg in its belly. Instead, it looked fairly normal, all things considered. She, along with the others, obediently held it up for scrutiny. The only really funny thing about it was that the ears were rather tall and pointy. Hermione was pleased that her “husband”, indeed, held a book.

“Looks almost real, Hermione. Well done,” said a familiar voice behind her.

She looked over her shoulder with a smile.

“Thanks… Remus,” she said, looking him over – and gulped. He looked… nice. Really nice. Dark trousers that weren’t threadbare, a white shirt that didn’t have spare buttons of different ages and origins on it and a dark jacket that wasn’t falling apart or faded made him look more rakish than pitiful. He’d put on a little weight and his scars had faded from the angry red she’d seen last time. Holding that book in his hand, he looked almost … no, he really did look perfect and delicious. She immediately crossed the word ‘delicious’ out of her mind and substituted “professorial”.

Feeling her cheeks heat to “lobster”, Hermione ducked her chin down and tried to pretend that she wasn’t ogling her former professor and current long-term infatuation. Latching on to anything that might keep him from leaving, Hermione sucked in a breath, picked up her new creation and offered it. “Gingerbread?”

His smile was shy, teasing and a little crooked – because of a new scar marring his mouth. “I’m not looking for a husband.”

Feeling like the schoolgirl that she didn’t want to be just at that moment, Hermione giggled and deliberately pursed her lips into a teasing smile. “I’m not either, but I wouldn’t mind a little nibble.” She broke off an I’m-not-a-pig sized piece of the gingerbread man’s book and popped it in her mouth, paused for a deliberate moment and offered again, “You?”

Remus cleared his throat and ducked his head with a smile that she noticed more in his eyes than on his lips. He brought the book that he held in front of his body, like a shield, holding it with both hands. “Aren’t you supposed to put him under your pillow and offer a piece to your intended on the morrow?”

“The only boys that I’ll see for breakfast are Harry and Michael Corner,” she scoffed, “and I’m not offering either of them a piece of this fine fellow. Neither one would appreciate all of the work that I put into him,’ she finished airily as her stomach fluttered. She bit the inside of her cheek to quash the embarrassing giggle that threatened to bubble out like so much little-girl vomit.

“In that case, I’m more than happy to appreciate you… your efforts.” He stumbled over his words, breaking off the rest of the gingerbread man’s book, popping it into his mouth and chewing with the expression of a man who had received very few treats in his life. He savoured the gingerbread for several moments as they walked toward the agreed upon last stop of the day – Miss Swan’s house. Sounding sincere, he said, “That was delicious, Hermione. I wouldn’t expect anything else from you. Thank you.”

She tucked the rest of the cookie in her new, magic hold-all purse and laughed softly. “Don’t say that to my mum. She claims that I gave the whole family food poisoning when I burnt some scallops last Christmas.”

Nymphadora Tonk’s braying cackle interrupted their conversation. They turned to see her waving around a misshapen gingerbread husband that was suspiciously burnt to a lovely dark mocha colour – almost the exact shade of the man walking beside her, Kingsley Shacklebolt.

Professors Snape and Roundtree followed behind, each holding one of Arielle’s hands. They gave the little girl all the appearance of listening to her chatter, though Professor Snape watched for danger more than anything else.

Remus (he could never be “Professor” again) laughed and cleared his throat, lifting the book he held. As soon as she recognized it, Hermione’s cheeks heated despite the softly falling snowflakes.

“I wanted to thank you again for this, Hermione. It was very thoughtful.” He looked like he wanted to say more, but half seconds turned into full ones and ticked silently between them with each footfall.

Hermione waited, her breath caught high in her throat. Her smile was the only answer she could give. The obligatory words buzzing in her brain couldn’t come out and she felt foolish for being tongue-tied.

He continued, “I wondered if you might like to discuss some of her work with me, when you have time.”

Every thought that wasn’t a shrieking, overwhelming ‘yes’ fled her mind and she was so startled that she stumbled. Gallantly, Remus caught her arm to steady her.

“I…erm….”

His face fell a fraction, “Of course, I know you’re busy with school and frien-.”

She cut him off by taking the arm he still held out. She knew she sounded breathless and overeager when she said, “I’d love to.”

Just then, they reached the end of the lane and turned to wait for the others.

Remus smiled his gentle smile down at her and said, “All right then.”

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

Arielle chattered. Arielle nattered. Arielle wittered. Kiaya chattered, nattered and wittered right back. Severus kept watch. Granger and Lupin strolled up ahead. Potter, doggy Black, Jasmine and Moody wandered to the road from the alley on the right and met up with Niles and Anne Mette Nilson – a couple he tolerated while he and Jasmine had been married but lacked the interest to keep the friendship going afterward. He was congenial, though, because Ari played with their younger daughter and the elder was a student so he saw and heard them often. As the lot shook hands, nice-to-meet-youed and see-you-sooned, Niles, Anne Mette and their two daughters continued past their Post Owl shop and down High Street, to the food stalls. Dumbledore and McGonagall led the rest of the students back to the castle along with a good half of the Auror contingent. It left the village weak. They’d be back, though. Until then, though, he’d be practicing Moody’s constant vigilance.

Pop Pop Pop

For good reason.

“Ah, Severus! Just the man I wanted to see!” False cheer and bonhomie oozed from Lucius Malfoy as he strolled away from his Apparation point. Narcissa and Draco followed, obedient and decorative, as always.

Without a word, Severus pushed Kiaya in Arielle’s direction hoping against hope that she’d follow the fucking instructions that he had growled at her a dozen times – if you see Malfoy, get my daughter to Dumbledore’s Garden by any means necessary and return to me immediately.

Without hesitation, even as he heard her slight gasp, she hauled Arielle into her arms and Disapparated, reappearing at the end of the street with Jasmine following a millisecond later. In an instant, two of the females disappeared behind the wall of the Hecate’s Hawthorns. Kiaya returned with a POP. The entire exchange took two seconds.

“Such a delightful child,” drawled Lucius. “I still can’t imagine how you managed her, Severus.”

Stiffening at the insult, Kiaya opened her mouth to retort in defence of her master but the Concubind on her ear issued a warning sting. She closed her mouth. It crossed Kiaya’s mind to glare but two weeks of hard training kept her face blank and her eyes focussed on the back of his shoulder.

“Evening, Malfoy,” Snape said with a mockingly ingratiating smile. “Narcissa, Draco.” He sketched a bow to the woman and barely acknowledged the boy. “You remember my… lady, the lovely Miss Roundtree.”

Pasting a bland smile on her face, Kiaya nodded, hands hidden in her sleeves, holding her wand, as Master had instructed.

“Ah, yes, Miss Roundtree. I hope your holiday isn’t proving to be too onerous,” said Malfoy the elder, his smile oily. Malfoy the younger, forgetting that Slytherin was supposed to be synonymous with subtlety choked on a guffaw until he noticed his mother’s imperious glare.

Kiaya peeked up at Severus, checking that he’d allow her to speak. At his barely perceptible nod, her lips parted. In the same dulcet tone she’d practiced earlier under Master’s instruction, she replied “This holiday has been the most wonderful that I’ve ever had.”

Malfoy’s lips thinned, though his eyes still busily examined her snugly wrapped cloak for a glimpse of bare breast. “Delightful,” he said and focussed on Severus again. “I’m sure I’ll see you later.” He took his wife’s arm.

“Of course,” said Severus, taking Kiaya’s arm.

“Until then,” said Malfoy, turning toward the celebration.

Kiaya couldn’t help but think that it sounded like a threat.

“Indeed,” replied Severus.

Kiaya wasn’t sure if he could read her mind or not.

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

“You look good.”

“And you, of course.”

“Relaxed. The holiday helping?”

“It is.”

“She's helping, too, isn't she?” Speaking, oh, so very casually, Jasmine pointed her chin at Kiaya, who was reading to Arielle on the sofa. They’d finished dinner, Dumbledore’s extended family celebrated the day with Harry and Hermione joining in as Sirius’s contribution to the family. Aberforth (who Jasmine suspected had only visited to see his goat, Glastaig), Jasmine’s parents and grandparents had left only moments before. Severus, Dumbledore and the students would be on their way shortly – as soon as Arielle’s story was finished and she was tucked in.

“Don't obfuscate, Jasmine. It's unattractive.” He glared from his place leaning against a support beam on the porch.

She wrinkled her nose and asked the burning question. “You're involved with her. Really involved. More than before.” It sounded like an accusation, albeit a quiet one.

Severus nodded and said nothing.

Jasmine looked pointedly at Kiaya’s ear. Her expression was a study in blankness. “You put the... that....”

“It was needed.”

“And wanted,” the accusation was sharper now. Jasmine had only seen the Concubind in its box; she’d never wanted to wear it, of course.

His face twisted into an expression more telling than any shrug of his shoulders.

Her nose lifted into the air and she appeared to focus on the coffee cup in her hands, perched on the porch railing. “None of my business, of course.”

“No, it’s not, but the reason for its installation is more important than what I may or may not want in a … girlfriend,” he spat the word, “and you would do well to note that until this moment I have refrained from mentioning the matter of Black constantly nuzzling you the entire evening.”

“Well, yes, you've been very good about that, thank you.”

Severus clenched his jaw.

Jasmine rolled her eyes. “Oh, just say it, you’ll feel better.”

Severus clenched his lips then snarled. “If that puppy,” the word was an invective, “is so determined to mark his territory in front of me, he would do as well to urinate on you.”

Jasmine opened her mouth in a retort but a voice over his shoulder interrupted

“I'm not really into that, you certainly seem to be, however, with that Concubind. What's next, handcuffs as a fashion statement? Is that what the modern witch is wearing this season, my love?” Sirius asked Jasmine, a sotto voce.

Jasmine choked on her after dinner coffee, drawing everyone's attention, and elbowed Sirius in the ribs.   Severus rolled his eyes and shot a silent body bind at Sirius. It was reversed half a second later, but the point was made. Sirius wandered off to chat with Harry and Dumbledore and Severus rousted Hermione and Remus’s conversation. School started tomorrow and the children needed to get back to await their friends and get some sleep.

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

Hours later, the bonfires blazed. Drunk on cider, the scent of the smoke, Master’s touch, and the potion she still took without fail, Kiaya struggled to stay upright while Severus and Malfoy spoke about things she couldn’t bring herself to care about. She didn’t know what time it was, but the children had all been sent home or back to school hours ago. Adults danced to a fiddle and a flute between the fires and the shadows and shared more than a few passionate kisses.

Narcissa and Draco had left long ago to get Draco on the train for school; only Lucius stayed, waiting for something that he consulted his watch for several times. Kiaya stopped caring long ago. Her only focus was Severus’s – Master’s -- arm wrapped around her belly. As the evening had worn on, he’d cast a warming charm on her and loosened her cloak and robes, exposing her bosom and far more cleavage than she was used to. Malfoy had ogled her for an hour. Severus tugged the untouched gingerbread husband out of her pocket and murmured a delicious threat, just loud enough for Malfoy to hear.

“If you put this thing under my pillow, I'll spank you."

Kiaya chuckled with impish sensuality, ignoring Lucius staring lasciviously at her exposed cleavage. "You’ll spank me anyway.”

"And you’ll like it, won’t you, little one?" He purred.

She blushed and nodded. The memory made her squirm. Of course, that set off every nerve in her body and urgent lust made her surreptitiously rub against him. 'Show him that you're my slut,' had been the order growled into her ear, even though she was clueless exactly how to do that. The potion, though - the potion steaming through her veins knew what it wanted. Green eyes met black and she turned into him. Rubbing her breasts against his left arm - never, ever his wand arm - she canted her hips into him like a bitch in heat, rubbing herself against his hips. A whimper escaped her throat as she remembered her burning arse under his hand. It had made her desperate to spread her thighs for him, and he'd indulged her need by slapping there, too as he purred praise and profanity into her skin before he'd come on her bright red flesh.

Two men joined them, greeting Malfoy and Master. Severus... Master… didn't introduce them. Kiaya focused on him and the warmth of the raging bonfire, as she'd been instructed to do. It wasn't hard.

Just thinking about the exquisite pain and pleasure made her even more slick and swollen. He’d decreed that she’d never wear panties again, so her cream spread over bare skin. Touching him, even through their clothing, even with the audience, made her need more. Pleasing him by showing her desire under his rival's eyes gave her a sweet satisfaction and a wicked desire to please him even more, no matter what her modesty screamed in the back of her mind. The potion made her needy enough to not care.

“Give me some of that.” The command had her heart leaping. He’d fed her every meal for two weeks, excepting lunch and the dinner they’d just shared at Jasmine’s. He’d called it “taming her to his hand” like a falconer’s bird so she depended on him for everything, even food. That she could feed him, she could, in some way, tame him, made her smile besottedly and fall deeper into love.

The conversation droned on above her head. She broke off a piece of the gingerbread and offered it to him. Strong teeth took it from her fingers, nipping flesh. His eyes left her, roaming down her décolletage. Black eyes told her that he’d rather be biting her nipples. She blushed at the memory and the need building between her thighs and made a soft sound of pleasure as she took a bite of the gingerbread. Sweet and spice exploded on her tongue. The scents of allspice and ginger and nutmeg and mace and Severus filled her head. Her eyes closed as the bread melted on her tongue. She didn't bother to stifle her moan of pleasure as her last senses filled with him.

"... really likes that gingerbread husband, eh?" remarked one of the men she didn't know. His tone was crass and crude, but she barely heard him, she was so lost in the taste of the bread and the feeling of Severus.

"Heard that women like gingerbread husbands better than real ones - they can bite their heads off and never worry about divorce," laughed the other, he sounded Geordie but Kiaya couldn't bring herself to focus on anything but the ache of need between her thighs and the strong man she leaned into.

"Oh, little Kiaya likes to bite, don't you, pretty?" Snape murmured down at her. He brushed his thumb over her lower lip. She parted her lips and nipped the pad of his thumb before drawing her tongue over it to soothe the bite. Looking into his fathomless eyes she nodded. "As long as I get to bite you back, right?"

Her teeth found her lower lip next and she nodded.

"What was that?” It was a sensual demand, but a demand nonetheless. The Concubind tingled in her ear, a reminder of his expectations.

"Yes, Master," she corrected, looking into his eyes, whispering the words like a benediction.

He turned her body so her back was to his chest, leaned down to run his teeth over her shoulder and murmured, “Good girl.”

She made a tiny sound of pleasure and closed her eyes.

“Likes to bite, but nought else, eh?” smirked one of the strange men.

Severus looked to the man, his brow lifted in supercilious demand. “What was that, Yaxley?”

The man choked and spluttered.

Malfoy elucidated, “She wears a Concubind, of all things, but no chains or fobs.” His smile was greasy. “Of course, you have been… busy.”

“Yes, we have.”

Severus slid his hand under her cloak, cupping her breast. She shuddered as his thumb stroked her nipple into a tight peak through her gown. The other could see exactly what was happening. She looked up at him to avoid their leers, losing herself in his touch and the silk of his voice.

“Emeralds would match her eyes, don’t you think?” Malfoy said. It was a taunt, one she could ignore when Severus’s fingers pinched her nipple, sending a lightning bolt of pleasure straight to her clit. A gasp accompanied a rush of damp heat under her skirts. Malfoy looked at his watch again.

“Oh, I’m sure I’ll sort something out. I wouldn’t want anyone to think that my girl wasn’t … worthy of the price paid.”

“Of course you’ll figure something out, Severus. You don’t want the lovely Miss Roundtree to feel neglected. She might start wondering if another suitor might be more generous.” Malfoy’s eyes stayed on Kiaya as she pushed her breast deeper into Severus’s hand.

“But, you see, Lucius, that’s where we differ. I’m not a suitor. She’s already mine in every way.”

Though she knew the words - he’d whispered, growled, and even yelled them at her for two weeks - something about the public claim of “mine” made her breath catch and her belly tighten. It was true. She was his. The seduction hadn’t been slow. He hadn’t lured her to his hand like a stray cat, but she couldn’t imagine any other hand – any other man.

The fiddle player stopped his song on a long, aching note. The flute sang on from the shadows dancing on the far side of the bonfire, inviting whispers and kisses under the moonlight. A pleasure filled feminine giggle reached Kiaya’s ears; she wasn’t sure if it was another woman playing with her lover in the dark or if her own voice.

She murmured up to him, uncaring of the others heard. “You give me everything I need… and I need you so much, Master.”

Once upon a time, his smile would have scared her. Now, though, it made her want. Want to be closer to him, want sex, want love, want to kick Malfoy in the groin for insulting her beloved, want to make him look like a god in front of these creatures – but mostly, want the hand that was sliding down her belly to bury itself between her thighs, audience or not. Rocking her hips, she silently invited… begged him to touch as she gazed up at him. The potion took over, just as he’d planned. Her desire took over, just as he’d wanted. She begged.

“Please!”

He murmured, “Please what, little one?”

She panted, her cheeks flushed, trying desperately to ignore the others staring at them. She didn’t want to say it, not in front of them. “Master….”

His voice was a low purr right in her ear. He knew she melted for him when he spoke to her in that deep, sexy, silky murmur – and now he used it as a weapon against her fear. “Yes, Miss Roundtree?”

“I need….”

“What do you need?” he taunted, the hungry look in his eyes belying any meanness.

She bit her lip. “Please, can we… may we please go home?”

“I quite like the music, Kiaya. Why do you want to go home?”

She whimpered.

“What was that?”

She bit her lip, rubbing her body against him as his fingers teased the top of her mound, underneath her cloak.

“I need you,” she whispered.

“What, exactly do you need me for?”

Kiaya tilted her hips and bumped his hand. “You know. You always know.”

Hidden by the edge of her cloak, Severus’s fingers dipped between her legs, cupping her mound. His fingers toyed with her labia through the fabric of her skirt. “Is this what you want?”

“Yes!” she hissed.

“Was that all? Or did you also want this?” His fingers curled up and parted her lips to press on her clit.

Her eyes closed so he couldn’t see them roll back. She whimpered, “Yes!”

“’Yes,’ what?” His chuckle was pure temptation. “This?” Slowly, his fingers teased her clit, tapping and pressing it. Her hips twisted as more hot cream smeared on her thighs.

She couldn’t answer with words, just a tiny, high pitched whine, begging for more. The ribald comments from the audience receded into the roar of pleasure filling her head.

“Or this?” A silent spell sliced a hole in the side of her cloak and skirt. He slid his other hand through it and into her clothing, dragging his hand down her belly and between her legs, too. She made room, curling one leg back, around his, parting wide. Long fingers burrowed between her labia to circle her vagina. Over and over, the familiar rough texture of his fingers, right where she wanted him. She shuddered and pressed closer, looking up at his face and lifting an arm to wrap around the back of his neck. Hips lifting and twisting, trying to move so his fingers would sink into her. It was forbidden, but she always tried.

His fingers left her cunt to give her labia a sharp warning pinch as he growled in her ear.

She gasped, begging in a strangled whisper, “Please let me come!”

His grin was rakish as he growled his approval then he performed some arcane magic with his fingers that made her jerk and lose the last shred of control she had. She keened her release into his throat, her body stretched into a taut bow.

Limp and embarrassed at how easy she was, Kiaya hid her face in his cloak, panting her recovery. He repaired the holes in her clothing and murmured a quick cleaning charm on himself and her clothing, leaving her legs trembling and wet.

Severus allowed her a few moments then patted her bottom possessively. She looked up at him, face aflame. Though the look in his eyes was approving, his tone was irritated and he said only, “Home, now.”

He’d warned her that it would probably happen – he’d be summoned and would have to send her home without an escort. She was to Apparate to the gates and run like hell to the castle to tell Dumbledore, then tuck herself into bed, blindfolded and leashed, as always.

Looking around, she noticed the three men were gone and a drum sounded from a street away. Her breath caught.

“Go.”

She went.

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

He came with a roar of satisfaction, pouring himself into her. Their hands clenched together and her soft cries of pleasure went no further than the closed bed curtains, spelled to keep the sounds of lovemaking in the bed. Moments later, she nudged him with a giggle and Sirius rolled to the side obediently.

“I’m feeding you too well, Mister,” Jasmine tempered her teasing by snuggling into him and kissing his lips.

“Keep it up, I’ll be too fat to make love to you properly,” he chuckled.

Jasmine grinned and rolled her eyes, “Yeah, yeah. We’ll see when that happens.”

“It could someday, you know, when we’re all safe and happy, kids home and all we have to worry about is calling them all in for supper,” Sirius said, sounding like he’d given it great thought. Of course, he had.

She smiled. “It was nice having the lot over today. Even the kids that weren’t ours, per se.”

“That it was. Harry really is mine – well, “ours”, you know that, right? When this lot is done… erm….” he trailed off, hoping that she understood.

“I know. He can have the bedroom on the other side of Remus, if he wants it.” She kept her voice gentle, trying not to think of the day when – no, “if” - Harry was buried, rather than moving into Dumbledore’s Garden with his godfather and de facto uncle.

Sirius saluted Jasmine’s lips with a kiss. “Thank you.”

She smiled. “Always.”

“Always?” he asked.

“Not ‘anytime’, but ‘always’.”

He rested his forehead on hers. “I’m so in love with you, Jasmine-mine.”

“I love you, too, my Sirius.”

He smiled. “Hey, where’s that gingerbread husband of yours?”

She snuggled into the blankets with a chuckle. “In the kitchen, why? You hungry?”

“Only for you,” he growled playfully. “Shouldn’t it be here, though?” He leaned over and pressed a kiss between her breasts, just over her heart.

“You want to bring another man into bed, huh?” She giggled and slid her leg along his, enjoying the tingle that just touching him brought her, every single time.

With a shout of mock outrage, he rolled her over onto her back and pounced on top of her, tickling her mercilessly. She writhed and squeaked and laughed uproariously.

He couldn’t help but join her laughter and when her thighs parted as she wiggled, strong hands gripped her hips, lifting her onto his thighs and he slid into her. Tickles turned to caresses, laughter into kisses and shrieks into soft moans of delight. She clung to him, her hands caressing his chest and back. He worshipped her with his lips on her breasts. They moved together in perfect time; he guided, she followed and demanded his pleasure. Blue eyes met grey and the laughter and love shone in them. His hair fell on either side of her like a curtain as he moved slowly inside her. Tension built slowly, the embers of their lovemaking kindled minutes before whispering into a gentle burn. Their hands met, fingers twined together and clenched as the embers flared. Jasmine came in a sweet rush and a long, slow, smiling sigh and a single word, “love”. Sirius buried his face in her neck and groaned her name into tender skin.

After a long moment, he murmured, “No other man will ever be in this bed, got it?”

She smiled in sleepy satisfaction and hummed her agreement. He eyes were closed.

“Except,” he Summoned her gingerbread husband from the kitchen and tapped her on the nose with it, “this one.”

She gave a sleepy giggle and uninspired snap of teeth. He tugged it away, tutting. She pouted and cracked one eye open. He examined the gingerbread husband she’d made and chuckled.

“This fine fellow looks like he has only one arm.”

“He does not! He has two perfectly good ones, thank you very much!” she protested.

“See this is so low on his body that it looks like a tail.” He pointed to the offending appendage.

She twisted her lip. He was right, it did look like a tail. Slyly, she looked at him. “Odd, I can’t imagine a man around here having a tail.”

He chuckled. “Speaking of tails, did you see Hermione’s gingerbread husband?”

“The one with the pointy wolf ears and the book?”

“Mhmm. I thought that we’d have to protect her because she’s so young, but now, I think it might be his virtue that needs defending.”

“Oh, leave them alone. He’s not going to do anything,” she said indulgently. “Hermione’s a smart witch. She won’t do anything stupid and Remus is very respectful of her.”

“Well, yes, but, still….” He rolled to the side and tucked her into the crook of his arm.

She nestled closer, sliding one leg over his and wrapping an arm over his chest. “What?”

“She shared the damned thing with him – before and after dinner while they were talking about poetry of all things.” He shook his head, as though discussing poetry was unthinkable, much less doable.

“So what?” She scoffed quietly.

“Now, now, Miss Swan. A gingerbread husband is a serious thing. Even Muggles believe in them.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Legend says that you sleep with this under your pillow,” he lifted the gingerbread husband up then slid it under her pillow, leaning over her to do so. She giggled. “And you’ll dream of your future husband. Then, in the morning, offer it to said husband to be.”

She blinked. Her tongue tied itself in knots and her belly tightened. “And then….” She didn’t finish the rest of the legend.

Grey eyes met hers. His voice deepened. “And then, according to legend, you’ll marry your husband-to-be within the year.”

She blinked.

And smiled.

He smiled.

“Will you….?”

She swallowed and bit her lip. “Will I what?”

“Will you … put your gingerbread husband under your pillow, then offer him to the man you dream of, so you’ll marry him within the year?”

She swallowed again and nodded, her smile nervous and hopeful. “I will.”

She took a deep breath. “Erm….”

“Yes?”

“Do you like gingerbread, Sirius?”

“I do.”

An hour later, Jasmine woke, gasping, terror caught in her throat.

Sirius jolted awake and wrapped his arms around her trembling form. ”What happened? What’s wrong?”

“I dreamed… of Voldemort.”

A scream echoed outside, then another, then another.

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

It’s generally accepted that midnight is the middle of the night for most people – hence the name. Kiaya knew, though, that the middle of the night was really 2:43 in the morning. At 2:43 a.m., the hassle and rush of the previous day had expired into exhaustion but the new day hadn’t yet bothered to think of a promise.

Severus… Master wasn’t back. He wasn’t in bed; she could see that he wasn’t in the other room. Those other men, and his warning… the drums, his order to run back to safety – they all mean that he was out there. In danger, along with the rest of Hogsmeade.

So, it was then, in the middle of the night, that she waited – terrified and desperately alone, despite the thousand or so other souls snoring the night away in the castle above her.
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Weft of Power, Warp of Blood: A Tapestry of Desire