Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

52	By : Kabalysa Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male Views: 3156 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
- 10
A/N: Sorry...we're late. But we've had examns, moving, and a lot of other
things going on. We'll try to catch up with the time, so we should be in
'real-time' mode again at the end of this week.

Another thing: SNAPE ON TRIAL??? Help us protest. Please visit Danish
Harry Potter Society's site, patronus.dk and sign a letter of protest.

Kabal & L�sa
____________________________________________________________________________________

Ninth week - June 5th - June 11th. - A cat out of a bag.

by L�sa

Monday. Romania. The Dark Lord's nest.

Lucius looked at the caricature of a wizard who was resting on the bed. He
was disgusted by the scaly skin. He felt sick by the sight of the red, running
eyes, inhuman, cold. Again he was wondering what it was exactly about Tom
Marvolo Riddle, what the man had that made other wizards follow him. To be
frank; or worse; honest, Tom Riddle was revolting. The man had no style, he
wasn't even pure-blooded, a fact which could have disposed him a proper
excuse for his rude and misbehaved personality if it wasn't for the
snake-like creature's otherwise almost sickening obsession with blood-purity.

In short: Lucius was tired. Tired of being Voldemort's errand boy. Tired of
being treated as a lesser being. Tired of not gaining the power he was promised
as a reward for his service. Tired of the fat rat diguised as a repulsive retard,
although human; still so much like the much more clever little creatures in whose form the
fat gnome was able to transform. And last but not least: Lucius was tired
of hunting for his lost lover. If only things could be back as they were;
Narcissa living in France on their estate there, and Severus back in his bed on
the Manor.

Right now he felt like murdering Voldemort rather than Severus - if they ever
got a hold on him. It wasn't likely; Severus had avoided them for weeks now, and
Lucius knew the Potions Master better than any other wizard knew him. If Severus
didn't want to be caught they would never get the possibility. But he had to
pretend to participate wholeheartedly in the chase; like hounds hunting for the
hare. Or rather hounds hunting for a fox; a sly fox, a cunning, unbelievably
clever fox, a fox who knew and smelled its hunters from afar; always able to
avoid them, to lure them, to send them on a wild goose chase.

Oh, he knew Severus. And he missed him so much.

'Father! Look here!' Draco was looking positively ecstatic. He didn't want to
be here together with the semi-snake anymore than Lucius wanted to. Draco had
other obligations, obligations which Voldemort's lurid plans kept him from.
Draco only wanted to get back to Hogwarts where he was safe and without any
threats of being forced to take the Dark Mark in a sudden rush of idiocy from the
scaly moron.

'Look!' he repeated, holding forth a small scroll, obviously from an owl.
'They have been spotted near Dr�gasani.'

'Where?' the blond wizard asked his son, not entirely familiar with Romanian
geography.

'Dr�gasani. It is south of the Transsylvanian mountains, in Valakia; home of
the vampirian Prince Vlad Dracul.'

'Well, thank you, Draco,' Lucius snarled. 'If I wanted a lecture I'd have
asked for one. Anyhow, that means we're about fifteen miles away from them. Where are
they exactly?'

'The reports tell us that they are hiding with a red-haired dragon-tamer. It
can't be any other than one of the Weasleys. Charlie Weasley, I guess.'

'Well, we'll better get ready then. Or maybe our lord wants us to wait for
McNair to arrive. We still haven't heard from him, have we?'

'No. He's still north of the Carpathian Alps. The last owl said that he was
in Transsylvania, near M�rcurea Ciucului.'

'Send an owl to him, Draco. Ask him to leave at once. We need him here.'
Lucius actually didn't trust himself. He wasn't entirely sure that his hate for
Severus and the way the Potions Master had betrayed them was enough to make him
let his anger loose on the dark wizard. He might need McNair to ensure he
fulfilled his obligations to the Scaly Lord. It wouldn't help his rise to the
post as Minister of Magic if he backed out in the last second when they were
executing Severus. Unfortunately. If only he hadn't been so ambitious he would
just have left the Dark Lord and forced Severus back on the Manor. Gods, he
missed him. Fuck the Dark Lord and his stubborn hunt. And fuck Severus.
Preferably in two different ways. And fuck ambition which made him act and react
like this.

He really couldn't decide who he hated more. Voldemort or Severus.
Monday night, Cairo, Egypt.

He moaned as her tounge swept around his erect cock over and over. He could feel
the small silver staff caress and tease the head in a very arousing way, almost
painful. Almost. He buried his hands in her hair; yanking her head a bit back,
only to emphasize that he wouldn't allow her to be the least rough with him,
that it was his pleasure which was important. She had no say in it, she
just had to suck him like he wanted it, and take it - his cock and his come -
down her beautiful throat.

He was exited, very exited, when he dragged her away from his crotch and up, up
to sit astride him. Once again he buried his throbbing cock inside her; hard and
fast. She screamed as he penetrated her in one quick thrust, burying his
erection deep inside her shivering body. Around her neck she had the necklace
they had found in Khufu's chamber. The exquisite piece of art emphasized her
strange beauty, her extraordinary slender, nicely shaped body.

'Stop, please, stop Severus,' she moaned. 'Please ...'

He hesitated, looking at her, inquiringly.

'I have something to show you.'

Again he raised an eyebrow indicating that he allowed her to
continue.

She didn't answer in words, but reached down, down in front of herself, down
where his cock was buried inside her, filling her. Then, then she spread
herself, moving her outer lips further apart. He couldn't breathe. There, almost
buried between the inner and outer lips it was; a small steel ring shot through
her clitoris. Oh, Merlin. He'd never seen anything more exiting than that. He
wanted to pull it, tug it, lick it. Just to hear her scream, to see her writhe
for him, writhe to reach climax or writhe to avoid the pain he could inflict on
her, just by the help of the small piece of jewellery between her legs.

'Move!' he commanded. 'Over my mouth!' He just wanted to push
his tounge inside her, around the piercing. 'Hands behind your head!' He
demanded to be obeyed and she didn't question his right. Lucky for her that was.

Her juices were dripping from her as he snaked his tounge round
the steel ring, licking her, alternating his efforts between her warm, dripping
cunt and the small ring penetrating her clitoris. He decided that he preferred
to let his tounge play with the ring in abundance; the loud, rasping noises it
made her spill out was exhilerating, almost as if every sound caressed something
inside his cock or inside his brain. No matter what; he was exited as never
before and when she came, screaming his name, pushing against his tounge a dam
broke inside him and he came, untouched, in large, relieving splashes agaist her
back.

'Merlin, I love you ... I love you, Tonks,' he moaned as the
last of his seed spilled out to make the bed even wetter. He dragged his hand
through the cooling semen, wondering what it was with the small Auror that had
made him come like that. It was wet and cold and sticky. Not particularly easy
to continue sleeping when the sheets were that wet.

Sleeping? He was sleeping?

He woke suddenly, the dream very clear to him. Fuck! He had told
her that he ... No! No ... he hadn't? He ... he couldn't? Could he?

He wiped the remnants from his wet dream away with the corner of the sheet,
reaching for his wand. After having cast a scourgifying charm he fell back,
musing over the strange and arousing dream.

What the Hell was going on? Did he ... love ... her? He' d never
loved anyone in his life, maybe except for Lucius. And he still missed his blond
lover. How could he have developed feelings for the Auror then? If he really
had. He thought of the dream. It had felt so right, so satisfying.

No, he decided. He had never loved anybody and he had no intentions of doing so.
And especially not the clumsy girl. Had it at least been a nice, pureblooded
witch - or wizard - it would have been ... boring?

'Sleep, Severus,' he told himself. 'There's never going to be
anyone for you. Go to sleep ...'

Wednesday, Cairo, Egypt.

'No, Nymphadora. I do not want to go to Luxor with you. I am working, if you
know what that phrase means,' he snarled at her, striding around in the small
kitchen which was almost filled to the brim with bottles and cauldrons and test
tubes.'At least you could help ... no, on the other hand, please refrain from
helping me,' he said, having forgotten about her infamous clumsiness for a while as the pictures from his dream the night before still haunted him. In
fact it haunted him so much that he had been partly erect ever since and very,
very erect when the Fairy was close.

His rejection made her look sad and disappointed. So what? She had to have
met a lot of disappointing experiences in her life at this moment, hadn't she?
But did he have to add to them? Oh, sod concience!

'All right, Nymphadora. I'll accompany you. This test is not that important,
it could probably rest until tomorrow or the next day.'

Not important. No. Only the test for some of his newest and most promising
research regarding the Wolfsbane. Of course it could wait. A trip to the boiling
retort that was Luxor was so much more important. What was wrong with him? Luxor
with the stupid twit of a Black-brat? Well ...

Wednesday, Luxor, Egypt

They arrive late. The night is black, but stars are strewn over the sky over
el
Uksur, Luxor. The darkness is heavy, but bonfires are lit along the Nile;
the muslims are cooking and eating. Bonfires on every street; the mouthwatering
smell of fish, boiling in oil, is everywhere. Myriad lights. From the city one
can hear drums and tambourines, horns, singing. The Ramad�n is a feast; nobody
sleeps, it sounds like a revolution is going on, but it is just dinnertime.

Donkeys are trotting through the night carrying heavy loads, staggering
around on their their stick-like legs. Children are playing and screaming or
laughing. The caftan-clad Egyptians sit between them in the streets, amongst
bricks and debris, some on primitive chairs, others on the ground; talking or
smoking or eating.

They walk through the dark streets, a witch and a wizard, both clad in the
colour of the Egyptian night, melting in with the shadows, taking in the darkness, the strange sounds and
smells. As if they had an unspoken agreement they do not want to sleep, both
wishing to stay awake in the magical, foreign city. They pass a temple, a temple
for long passed, dead gods. The temple's columns glow strangely in the dark
light. The Nile, just nearby, smells sweet and lukewarm, desert sand is
hovering, floating in the soft night wind. They walk past poor houses, old
hotels, heading for the mythic river.

Silently they stand, the two fugitives. In awe. To the west, over the plains
they can see small spots of light; fires, golden, on the other side of the Nile.
There are many, but compared to ancient times poorly few. Because here, on this
spot, lay once the great city No-Amon - Thebes, City of Hundred Gates.

He doesn't know if it is the chill air or the beautiful scenery before his
eyes which moves him. But his arm sneaks around her shoulder, another around her
waist. In each other's embrace they watch the sun rise over Luxor.
Tuesday, Luxor, Egypt.

When he woke that particular morning he wasn't dreaming but waking up inside
a dream. As if his dream had come to life, deciding to take form, exactly as the
Egyptians believed in thousands of years ago; dying and waking up to an eternal
afterlife with one's most beloved belongings. This particular morning he was not
only resembling an ancient pharaoh; the regal face, the black hair, his elegant,
slender apperance - this time and this particular morning he too - like a Pharaoh -
woke up with what he was laid to rest with: A tiny woman with lavender eyes.

He wasn't surprised, as if his body had taken her appearance in while she was
sleeping in his arms, leaving her imprinted in his unconcious mind. He really
couldn't remember the last time a girl, a woman, had stayed with him, slept in
his bed, just to be with him, to seek her satisfaction in the safety and
tenderness he could offer her. There had been no lovemaking, the intense
Egyptian night had left them filled with impressions and feelings, longing for
something ancient or grand or rare. And they had answered the call by
tenderness. A great gift for him, more than any treasure of gold or gemstones.
An oasis in the desert.

He still couldn't figure out why he felt so strange around her. Or what he
felt at all. He was one big, black question mark when it came to Nymphadora
Tonks. He was resting on his elbow, looking at her intensely, as if he could
find an answer just by looking at her, by watching her. She was sweet, looking
decievingly innocent in her sleep; an impression that only lasted until she
laughed, still not awake; but dreaming; maybe dreaming about a prank or a jest,
her angelic face contracting in a smile, not entirely innocent.

Maybe she could feel him looking at her or maybe the time just flew; soon she
stirred and woke, slowly as a half-grown kitten. She woke in the same languid,
lazy manner; yawning, putting out a tiny, pink tounge through sharp, white
teeth. He almost couldn't refrain himself from scratching her behind an ear just
to listen to her purr.

She wasn't an ordinary, household cat. Neither was she a Persian with long
unruly fur. She was more like a Siamese, a Siamese with wonderful lavender eyes,
a bit odd-eyed, but appealing nevertheless.

She hadn't opened her eyes yet when he said something.

'Did you know that cats were worshipped in Egypt?'

She opened her eyes now and looked at him, wondering what he meant.

'You look like a half-grown cat.' He almost surprised himself. He didn't
usually embarras himself or others with stupid comments like that. He suddenly felt as clumsy with his words as Tonks did when
she tried to move around.

'So? That'll mean you' ll half-way worship me?' she asked, amused.

'I think it means that I'll keep you confined here for the rest of the day
and not allow anybody to come near my half-feline pet,' he growled in her ear.
'We haven't been in this bed for an adequately long period, don't you agree?'

She didn't need words to answer him.
Friday, A hotel room, Luxor, Cairo.

'Do you think we should get up now, Severus?'

'No.'

'Fine!'
Saturday, same hotel, same place.

Severus was awake early, wanting to write two letters before Nymphado ... Tonks
... woke. One was short, only written to prevent panic in Cairo.

Mr. Weasley.

We are staying a bit longer in Luxor.

Severus Snape

Another was somewhat longer and contained what Severus had labelled as his confusion,
all the pent up scrambled feelings he'd shovelled together in a corner of his
brain.

Dear Minerva.

Tell me about Nymphadora. Do you find that she is extraordinary in any
way. I do not mean the hair or her ability to transform herself, but rather if
there is something about her, something hidden from one's eye? Does she posess
extraordinary qualities, either as a witch or as a human? No, I thought so. Of
course she hasn't.

Could you tell me then, why she is able to twist men around her little
finger like this?

Minerva ... I left a potion for her. To accompany her to Luxor. A
potion. Don't you see? I am so confused.

I know what you'll tell me; that I should get myself a girlfriend, get
married, get a family life. You know as well as I do that it is not a
possibility at all. Not as long as the Dark Lord is still at large; the risks
are far too great.

She's able to take care of herself? I knew you would say that. She is. But
I am not inclined to watch her being tortured or raped or murdered at a Death
Eater's revel. And that would be a likely outcome if you-know-who finds out that
I am a bit indecisive when it comes to disliking her. He would just use her as
one of the means to hurt me or to flush me out from hiding. She is so much
easier to get a hold on, and a much more obvious target because they have no
idea how gifted she is when the going gets tough as the Muggles say. Even if she
is strong she can't stand against a contingent of Death Eaters. They are not all
incompetents.

Minerva, I have her in my bed now and I have no idea if I want her in it
or out of it. Help.

Severus
'Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh,' he thought by
himself, shaking his head over this uncharacteristic giveaway prented on a piece
of parchment. He folded the letters and charmed them closed and sealed. He
wasn't exactly sure where he'd find a long-distance owl in Luxor, but he'd
probably manage. For now he was ready to play tourist with the Pink Plague.

__________________________________________________________________________________
- 8
- 9
- 10
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

52