The castle was attacked. The battle had been going on for about forty minutes, and everything around was thickly covered with blood and covered with fragments of stones.
She was surrounded by seven Death Eaters, and there was no one around to help. I was about to reveal my spy game when she did something that startled me. And where did that girl go, who, with fear in her huge eyes, huddled against the cold castle wall? A proud and independent sorceress now stood in front of the Death Eaters, looking at them with the cold gaze of a conqueror. There was a slight half-smile on her lips, and the aura radiated such strength that only the dead could not feel it. How did she do it? Don’t know. It’s difficult, few purebloods are able to use the primary magic of nature, only by channeling it through their body. In this case, the body’s own reserves are not involved, the magician becomes the embodiment of a terrible, irresistible force of power … However, I indulge in theory.
One wave of the palm – and the enemies lie on the ground, trying to understand what happened. She looks at me, a chiseled eyebrow raised sarcastically, her eyes telling me: “What are you standing there for? Leave, otherwise you will open up to enemies, and the Order will still need a spy. Shaking off my numbness, she’s right. Leaving in the direction of the battle, out of the corner of my eye I notice that she is also impassively repulsing Avada and uttering some kind of guttural spell, unfamiliar to me. A wave of liquid fire – the Death Eaters are left with nothing more than chaotic piles of ash…
She remained at that wall. And thank the gods – no one knows what the intervention in the course of events of this force would lead to. Obviously no good.
Half an hour later.
The lord released his retinue… The body aches from a generous portion of Cruciatus – the assault on the castle failed. Who is guilty? Well, of course I – I did not bring any necessary information there! Nonsense. The reflection of the fires of the fireplace joyfully jumps along the ceiling, I can only watch them play. Relaxation… How long have I been waiting for it! I invoke a bottle of firewhiskey and a glass—there is something exhilarating about looking at a fire through an amber liquid and not thinking about anything.
My idyll is destroyed by a knock. Loud and persistent. In the door. Merlin who?! Surely the old senile with the manners of a caring daddy did not endure until the morning?! Guessed wrong. Outside the door, I saw someone I never expected to see on my doorstep unnecessarily. And again a sarcastically raised eyebrow: “Step away from the door, I want to come in.” No, she doesn’t say it out loud – there’s no need. Passes deep into the room and sits down on the edge of the table, in the immediate vicinity of the bottle. Passionless face, cold eyes – and when did she manage to become so balanced? Almost like me. Although not a single creature has reached my level yet … He looks a little mockingly, transfigures a pen lying on the table into a glass. I take the hint, pour her some firewhisky, following the action with a look: “Are you going to feel bad, baby?”. Everything is still silent, even the spell is non-verbal. I stand a few steps away from her, slowly raise my glass and take a sip. She repeats the action. From a strong drink, tears appear in the corners of the eyes, but the face does not change its cold, indifferent expression.
– Eight people died, two of them students. A third year from Ravenclaw and a fifth year from Slytherin. – an unexpected phrase. However, her expression is still the same.
– Stuart Murdoch.
– I’ll write to his family. I nod just as indifferently, I couldn’t do without losses.
She gets up from the table and finds herself standing close to me, I can even feel her hot breath and the cherry smell of shampoo. So strange … Huge eyes the color of coffee liqueur and such a longing in them, familiar from the reflection in the mirror. And hopelessness and loneliness. And I decide on a rash step: I lean and almost weightlessly touch her lips. They are dry and rough from cracks – just like my own … She shuddered slightly – yes, I didn’t expect either … Something changed in that second. She did not deviate, and I dared to trace the tip of my tongue along the contour of her lower lip. It turns out they taste sweet… She kissed back. She pressed herself, trembling either from excitement or from the absurdity of the situation … My hands slid along the soft curves of the body, my fingers gently counted the vertebrae protruding even through the mantle, slid under this ridiculous barrier … The rustle of tissue and rapid breathing – these are the only sounds of this moment. The soft silk of the blouse as I undo the buttons. And her skin – also so similar to silk … so soft and pleasantly warm … Her fingers are not waiting either – my shirt is also not in the right place.
A couple of minutes later we are in the bedroom. How beautiful her eyes are when they are shrouded in a veil of excitement … Now they are no longer fingers – lips are exploring her body, tasting its taste. She moans audibly and arches, a fan of chestnut waves flying across the pillow, causing a desire to dig into it. I want her, I want her madly … It is her, in general, I have been suppressing my instincts for a long time, protection during sex is too reduced. But I want her, period, I can’t stop. Hard nipple buds, firm breasts, a hollow belly button, enticing curls below… She squirms like a snake, her fingers burning her skin, inflaming desire even more. Can `t stand! Yes, and she is not up to it … finally … When immersed in her hot depths, I emit an animal roar, which is echoed by her almost purring moan … A whirlwind of feelings, the interweaving of bodies and the heat of breath – all this intoxicates more than any alcohol in the world! Jerky movements, broken rhythm and uncontrollable muscle spasms… She screams under me, sharp nails dig into my back, leaving bloody streaks – she has reached the peak. I can’t hold it back anymore, a couple more ragged movements, and my growl drowns in her hair …
After an hour and another burst of passion, she gets up and dresses, summoning the scattered things with magic. I follow her example. Everything is still silent. I escort her to the door – on her face is a familiar mask of indifference, her eyes are cold. As well as on mine, what’s there.
– It’s four in the morning, you’ll be late for duty, Miss Granger. – “Hermione, dear, beloved, just be careful, I beg you …”. Mentally, of course.
“See you tonight at the meeting, Professor Snape.” – cold nod, and she leaves. “Severus, just wait for me, Severus… I love you, just wait…”