24Thank you to the many wonderful people who reviewed (kudos to you guys) ;) and enjoy.
International Conference of Transfiguration Paris 1952
The day had been long but intriguing and Albus was still feeling excited about the events of the many different workshops and lectures he had attended during the course of the day. Usually the annual international gathering of transfigurations-aficionados in Paris tended to be a slightly dull affair where most of the time was spent arguing about already determined theories. But this year something had changed and the atmosphere had been of innovation and creative thinking. Why, he had discussed quite animatedly for two hours about the properties of dragon blood and its use in transfiguring. The old masters had indisputably claimed he was mad to believe there to be any more uses for dragon blood than those 10 already found. But unlike the years before, others had listened to him and agreed it was worth examining. It was remarkably nice not being the only eccentric Albus thought with a smile on his way back to his hotel room.
Even better was that unlike last year this evening he was with company. He smiled and looked down at the women accompanying him. Her bright blue eyes looked at him and she gave him a smile back, softly patting the arm she was holding on to. He squeezed her hand in response, feeling content and at peace. He had been alone last year. And the year before in fact – and the year before that, he mused darkly. The train of his thoughts took a sudden detour then at the prompt of women and for a moment the image of another witch, her young face and dark eyes assaulted his vision. The sudden remembrance surprised him but he quickly subdued the thought of her and turned to look at the present witch beside him. Mathilda had soft blonde hair that fell just past her ears, her blue eyes were mellow and bright and her frame a tiny fraction on the plumb side. She was beautiful though, this evening adorned in ornate gems and a gown of cerulean, her lips painted a shade of glimmering rosy-red. Before Albus had time to ponder anymore though, they had arrived at his suite. He whispered the incantation to the room and gently guided Mathilda inside putting his hand on the lower of her back, happy when she leaned into his touch. The moment was broken however.
Both looked down in wonder when they heard the sound of dry leaves crunching beneath them – the floor catching their attention. It turned out to be dried rose petals of the deepest red, spread out on the floor. They both looked up at each other, Mathilda with an expression of delight while Albus's look must have been a dumbfounded one for Mathilda soon looked perplexed as well. As they stepped further in to the room the view of the big four poster bed was what drew their attention next. Albus felt as if he had been punched in the stomach, all the air left him and he felt disoriented. In wonder he stared at the bed where upon rose petals alike were spread but this time it was something altogether different that drew his interest. Lying on her stomach her head facing them and the whole expanse of her naked back, buttocks and legs in view, Minerva McGonagall had changed from a relaxed lounge to blushing a deep red when she noticed the witch beside Albus. She squeaked and leapt from the bed, a linen suddenly wrapped around her body in a flash. Albus still stood fixed, his eyes hungrily taking in every bare glance of skin he could, his body responding on its own. He could still see the pale skin of her spine before his eyes, the roundness of her buttocks and the creamy white calf that had been swinging back and forth in a pendulum motion. He instantly felt as if he was being asphyxiated and was ashamed to say that he had completely forgotten the other witch in the room.
"What the devil!" Mathilda cursed, coming out of her stupor and surprise. Her blue eyes had gone from the usual mellow to a murky grey, her lips no longer soft or rounded but thinned in a straight line as she gave the younger witch a look of annoyance. Albus still couldn't work his vocal chords or indeed turn his head to look at Mathilda. It was as if his gaze was bewitched, ensnared to look at the dark-haired witch before him. Her familiar dark eyes were shaded and unreadable, her head corked slightly to the side as she regarded the couple. The linen was draped around her body in a casual way, the ghostly white of her collarbones and neck exposed. Albus felt an excruciating desire to sink his teeth into her neck and bite down. He felt his member responding further to the fantasy moan escaping Minerva at the imaginary scenario.
"I've been called many things but devil has never been one of them," Minerva replied in a calm voice however belied by a sudden demure smile and a nervous twisting of her hair on a finger. Albus quickly averted his gaze to Mathilda to watch her eyes narrow in resentment.
"What I meant was; what are you doing in our hotel room?" Mathilda said in a voice directed toward a child, slowly pronouncing every syllable.
"I was just going to greet an old friend," she told them in serene voice, her dark eyes lingering on Albus an apologetic look in their depth; "But I can see he is busy". Mathilda seemed to only anger further at the answer and Albus was in a trance as her blue eyes shadowed further, almost glinting with malice. He looked back at Minerva who despite the obvious hatred unaffectedly gave both of them a smile caught between bashful and roguish, her lip stuck dauntingly between her teeth, "I'm terribly sorry. I really am. I am just going tae go now – pretend I was never here, will ye?" she spoke as she hurriedly strode toward the door, her Scottish brogue prominent and her arms clinging to the linen, red spots marking her otherwise pale face. Before either Mathilda or Albus could say anything she was out the door and it closed with a resounding click, leaving the room in a loaded silence. Albus almost succumbed to the quiet, finding the room too hot and too still. With a pale flash of leg still in mind he turned around and faced Mathilda, hoping she wouldn't blow the situation out of proportions. One look at the witch however quickly ended that wish.
"Who the bloody Circe was that!" Mathilda cursed again, an outburst that was unusual for her since she had never cursed before in Albus's presence. How was one supposed to answer that question – Albus had no clue whatsoever! Mostly due to the fact that he had no idea himself which category Minerva belonged in. Were he to reply with a 'former student' Mathilda would surely interpret it the wrong way and only hasten any ballistic explosion, of that he was sure. An 'acquaintance' was hardly accurate and he had a hard time imagining Mathilda would find it a satisfactory answer. 'Friend' seemed too little and former 'lover' too much! Albus felt his head spin with contemplation, finding it difficult to pin a title to the dark-haired witch.
"Albus!" Mathilda was impatient however, her voice reaching Albus from beyond his reflection. Albus looked down at the witch, trying to form words in his mind and relay them on to his mouth but nothing happened. Instead his eyes fastened on the witch before him and he couldn't help compare. Blue eyes usually mellow were presently wrapped in irritation and they seemed only to dim in the memory of dark eyes sparkling with mischief and lust. The golden lockets suddenly seemed morose and bleak in comparison with the black midnight of long silky tresses. Even the currently annoyed words coming from the mouth of the witch before him seemed faint and muted against the dark syrupy tones of chocolate coming from the soft, pliable lips of - … …
"Albus! Are you listening!" the exclamation abruptly interrupted Albus from his thoughts, bringing him back to reality. He tried to give Mathilda a sincere smile but to his disappointment it did not work. Neither did finally looking at her eyes which had turned a stormy grey, anger swirling in their midst.
"Who is she?" she asked in a menacingly quiet voice, her arms crossed defensively.
"A former student," Albus answered with no conscious thought, somehow the night at the Astronomy Tower lingering in his mind. As soon as the words left his mouth he flinched and when he heard the gasp escaping from Mathilda and her eyes turning large with repulsion, he knew he should have kept his mouth shut. That would have been better in the long run.
"Student!" she cried, taking a step back.
"No – I mean she was once – long time ago…but – " he tried to salvage the situation but Mathilda appeared to not hear him. She took another step away from him, her hands turning into fists and her nostrils flaring with barely veiled fury.
"You were in an awful hurry to end your discussion with Anfinson," she commented, her voice chilly and calculating, "And you did not seem particular thrilled about me joining you for the night!" Her eyes had gone blank and glassy and she had a peculiar expression that seemed to be a mix between a breakthrough deduction and contempt.
At this point Albus tried to interrupt, "That's not true – "
"You did not seem particular surprised by her lying in your bed," she accused him then, her eyes cold as ice and her voice soft but dangerously close to breaking.
"Mathilda listen – "
"Maybe you arranged it all," she pointed her finger at him, her cold fury leaving red blotches on her cheeks and her posture ramrod vertical as she stared at him, her chin held high.
"Now you are being silly dear – I never did such a thing, how can you belie – "
Next thing he knew Mathilda started screaming and a goblet from the nightstand hit him on his head and bloody chaos ensured.
Later on, stumbling through a corridor, he realized it was a wonder he even managed to escape from his suite. He tenderly touched his scalp, whimpering in a low voice at the bump and pain. When his hand came away he saw smears of barely dried blood on his palm. 'Bloody fantastic' he muttered darkly not believing the events of the night. It seemed farfetched, unreal and absurd at the moment. Thrown out of his own room for no fault of his own, no less! He briefly wondered how he was going to acquire his notes on tomorrows lecture but then he realized that they were most likely torn to shreds by the infuriated wrath of Mathilda Bagshot. He sighed tiredly, feeling all the 'unluck' in the universe was somehow centered around him. Maybe he was exuding some kind of sign signaling for the gods of fortune to ignore him! It sure felt like luck had abandoned him. Lost in self-pity, he found he had walked down to the reception. The night receptionist looked at him curiously but refrained from commenting on his rumpled attire or the slightly bleeding scalp. Perhaps it was the intimidating glare Albus directed at the boy or the slightly mad look about him; Albus did not care as long as it worked. Without giving it much thought he asked for the room number of a certain dark-haired witch. The boy seemed to hesitate and Albus found he was on the verge of brandishing his wand, his hands fisted around it in his pocket. But instead he opted for glaring at the boy who suddenly squirmed in his seat and hurriedly gave him the location with a scared expression. The boy's eyes followed Albus as he ascended the stairs again and he could feel the burn of the stare in his back, disapproving and prejudiced. But Albus pointedly ignored him and went in search of the suite number he had been given.
He was quite surprised by his own daring but somehow he had gone beyond caring. Even though he knew this was the last thing he should do – for many other reasons than it being wrong and inappropriate – he just couldn't muster up any shred of rational motivation to resist. As he walked through the half-darkened corridors looking at the door numbers he found his mind wandering, imaginary visions of that delicious naked calf swinging back and forth in a tantalizing pattern and how the leg would suddenly stop moving at the restraint of a hand. And how that hand would journey up the length of the leg in a slow, torturous fashion, lingering every now and then to trace patterns of sensual longing into the skin. He passed a fluorescent light casting long shadows and he imagined fingers voyaging further up and reaching the inner thighs, their pearly white color in stark contrast to the again darkened corridor. The fingers would be replaced by teasing lips that would draw wet, invisible lines of desire in an upwards spiral, going upwards and further upwards until – ... …
Albus was abruptly shaken from his fantasy as he found the right suite number. He only took a brief moment of pause before he knocked on the door, his stomach in uproar with sudden tension and anticipation. He waited and found he was feeling better despite the nervousness; the prospect of finding Minerva behind the door was soothing and thrilling, creating a feeling of blooming excitement in him. The door opened with a creak and a sweat-glistening dark-haired Minerva struck her head out. Her dark eyes looked surprised to find him there, her red swollen lips parted in disbelief.
"Albus!" she gasped.
"Minerva?" he asked in disbelief as well, the smell of sex coming off her in waves, her hair a wild mess and her body only clothed in a man's shirt.
"What are you doing here?" she asked and shifted her weight form one foot to the other. Albus looked down and noticed her bare thighs and had a hard time prying his eyes away from the sight.
"I thought – " he couldn't finish the sentence, feeling suddenly miserable, old and stupid. He had been so dim-witted that the thought of her being with someone else hadn't entered into the equation at all.
She looked at him from his disheveled clothing and to his forehead.
"Either you've just had hot, hot sex or you got thrown out!" she exclaimed with a gleeful laugh leaving no doubt about which scenario she thought was the reality.
He shrugged, feeling depressed and unhappy – obviously it was not his night and fortune had decided to play a cruel, cruel trick on him. But instead of sending him on his way as he'd assumed, she gave him another look, her fingers lightly tracing his head and her lips softly kissing his cheek.
"My poor professor," she cooed and twisted her hand around his waist and guided him through the door.
"But you have company…" he protested, not wanting to the see her lover or the remnants of their lovemaking. She just placed her fingers on his mouth, her dark eyes turning a hue of shadowy passion.
"Rolando won't mind," she whispered in his ear, her words tickling and sending tendrils of thrills throughout his body, lighting his skin on fire. He felt suddenly faint by her words and the implications. Comprehension seemed to elude him and in its stead he was enveloped in a coat of bewilderment and confusion. His doubts however were doused when he found her mouth covering his, her lips softly plying any resistance away from him. When they broke apart, she looked him in his eyes and told him in a voice brooking no arguments;
"Most importantly – I won't mind."
The words were whispered in a low murmur, her mouth hovering adjacent his ear and sending reverberations of her timbre throughout his body like a current of voltage. He felt like a prisoner in his own body, not able to function properly or connect his mind to his body. How was he supposed to react in such a scenario, he asked himself. On one hand he felt a strong desire to bolt through the door and run far away while on the other hand he was too aroused to consider running away.
Minerva came into his view again, her eyes curious and her lips parted with palpable intentions. Albus felt a rush of excitement travel throughout his body, anticipation mingling with a sexual desire to find release. Her eyes glittered and sparkled and he felt he could drown in their depths. Albus realized he had moved beyond caring, beyond wondering what was proper and appropriate. All he wanted was to immerse himself in her; eat her alive and drown in her scent. He could feel a prickly heat move throughout his body, coursing through his neck and face and lingering in his stomach and further south. He saw her eyes darken with desire just before he dipped his head down and claimed her lips as his. His frozen, motionless carcass of a body spurned into sudden force as he felt himself reacting and pushing her through the room and up against the wall. He pressed her mouth further open with his lips, slipping his tongue inside to find hers. He savored the low groan that slipped from the witch, the feel of pleasure coiling in his spine with tensile strength. He could feel her body responding to his, her hips joining his and her back arching from the wall and into his body in an attempt to close the gap of air between them. His hands came in contact with her bare thighs and he enjoyed the feel of slick, naked skin and with slow, deliberate strokes his hands traced patterns upwards, sliding under the shirt and moving upwards in a frantic search to touch as much naked flesh as possible. He could feel her breaths coming in short gasps and he enjoyed every sweet moan he managed to devour. He felt her slender fingers tangle in his hair, sensually playing softly with his auburn tresses one moment to roughly pulling his face closer in the next moment. His mind felt clouded over with passion and lust and he had trouble directing any sense into the situation. He felt an almost febrile tension settle into his body, itching and digging into his flesh in pleasurable surges of wanting more. Had he been himself, Albus would have slowed down and rationally contemplated the situation and his actions. But that Albus was gone and the one left could only comprehend the feel of Minerva against him and the soft, bare skin he was in contact with. With a groan he ripped at her shirt and the unmistaken sound of cloth tearing apart and buttons flying and falling reached his ears in a wave of delight. He was by far too distracted by the multiple feelings of wonder and arousal that the sudden feel of large, rugged hands lingering on his back surprised him.
He must have jumped slightly for instantly he felt Minerva soothingly applying pressure to his lips and her hands travelling south where they attentively began to unbutton his trousers. Momentarily he wondered what had happened to his robe but the thought was soon lost as he felt cold, fresh air assault his naked skin. He shivered and closed his eyes in ecstasy as Minerva ran a single finger down the hard length of his erection, the hiss of his own indrawn breath loud as she touched him. Every thought left him then and his world was only a blur of touches and feelings as multiple hands explored his body and fully unclothed him. He felt delirious and wonderful at peace, only devouring and savoring what he could feel, his mind incapable of generating thoughts.
Somehow in a blur of skin, mouths and limbs, flickers of lust, pleasure and dark satisfaction, he found himself in bed suddenly, the feel of naked flesh underneath him and above him, compressing him almost painfully but pleasantly together. He had no time to wonder how he had gone from vertical to horizontal, from the hallway to the bed. It was of no consequence and held only a minor, fleeting puzzling interest, soon forgotten as he gazed into a beautiful face marked with exquisite pleasure and framed by black hair. She alternately gasped and moaned, her eyes flickering open and gazing into his while their bodies moved slickly against each other, grounding and molding. He felt the jagged edges of teeth crawling across his neck, hands travelling down his back and the certain feel of a hard, thick length bobbing against his buttocks. All he registered though was the feeling of being on fire and he hungrily watched each emotion his wandering hands did to the face beneath him, the soft full formed lips parting and eliciting moans and murmurs of need. He felt her jut her hips upwards while someone grazed his lower back with teeth, slightly nipping his skin. A ravaged growl escaped him as he positioned himself above her and slid into her with one long, quick glide of skin and sweat. The warm, tight welcome was followed by hands gently touching his buttocks and a sudden thrust into his rear end. His gasp of surprise and slight pain caught in his throat but quickly disappeared as the body beneath him started rocking to and fro, long and wet movements bringing him back. He followed the rhythm and he felt the body beneath him and above him moving faster against him, a hot prickly sensation burning almost excruciatingly in his own body, spreading tendrils of mounting pleasure to surge in strokes of current, uncoiling the explosive arousal lodged in his lower member.
He watched with fascination as Minerva grasped fistfuls of sheets beneath her, her eyes closed in rapture and small, excited moans left her red lips. Her soft, wet body writhed beneath him while someone moved above him. He felt the internal fire within his body magnify tenth fold, rushes of dark lust and unbearable pleasure rising throughout his body, enveloping him in a sheen of ecstasy as well.
The next day dawned with a busy schedule and Albus walked around the large auditorium in a daze as his mind was assaulted by luscious, vivid images from the preceding night. He looked up in surprise when an old friend – his old mentor – approached him.
"You look tired. Have yeh been working all night again, m'boy?" Nicholas Flamel greeted Albus.
"W-weell," Albus blushed finding it difficult to look the older wizard in the eye.
Nicholas laughed merrily, "Yeh work too much, m'boy" he commented, giving Albus a clap on the back as he continued, "Why, how are you going tae find yehself a missus if all you do is work, huh?"
"I - erm" before he could even comprehend the answer, Nicholas had nudged him with his elbow, pointing down the conference room and he exclaimed in an excited voice;
"Albus, I do believe that girl just winked at yeh – Do put on a smile, will yeh m'boy!"
Albus looked down in the row of gathering spectators and saw Minerva in the crowd, her dark eyes locked on him, her beautiful lips graced with a smile just for him.
"That's the spirit!" Nicholas cried happily when he saw the big, goofy smile plastered on Albus' face and his cheeks turning the color of red wine. Little did the famous alchemist know what had expired the night before … ... and in the early hours of the morning.
Finite.
The whole threesome thing is a big dig at JKR and the outrageous 'Dumbledore is gay' agenda! I should apologize in case any one feels offended but I think a certain dark-haired witch enjoyed it immensely.
/Pal