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Chapter 36 - Your Arse is Mine or Beer for my Wolfses

Tel Lindar 36

Your Arse is mine or Beer for my Wolfses

***

"Good. I will join you."

Bronwyn's jaw dropped at the pronouncement. "Severus," she began awkwardly. "I believe I can -"

"Oh," he interrupted silkily, stepping up on the stair, and setting the ancient book he had seized from the cellar on the side table, "I have no doubt you can bathe on your own. I, however, intend to join you."

Bronwyn backed up another stair, in a hopeless attempt to keep some distance between them. "I... uh... don't think the shower is large enough to accommodate the two of us."

"You forget," he drawled, continuing his mounting assault on her, "this is a magic castle and I can be rather persuasive when it comes to..." and with this he perused her body leisurely, taking in every curve, every nuance, the obvious heaving of her chest, "enlarging and expanding what is necessary to accommodate our needs." He followed her, turning the corner of the landing, his eyes glittering in the low light. His heavy cloak hit the floor with a whisper.

"Severus," she tried again, "I'm very tired-"

"You do not desire sleep."

"I'm sweaty and there's gore on my clothes. See?" She stuck out a boot, dried Orc evident, as if that pitiful offering would halt him.

"I will bathe it from you. Do you think a little blood and gore would deter me?" They had reached the landing and he backed her towards the bathroom.

Bronwyn tried one last time. "Severus. We agreed. No games."

An evil, wicked smile split craggy features. "Do you think this is a game?"

Bronwyn was now pinned to the bathroom door, eyes wide as a frightened doe. The Wizard reached out and grabbed her hand as she was reaching for the doorknob. With finesse that would have shocked Lucius Malfoy to the core of his snake-handled cane, he brought it to his lips, tongue flicking the nicks and crevices, as if to sample the dirt and grime from her evening’s efforts. His other hand moved behind her, cupping her derriere, moving her in towards his body, his very core. "Make no mistake, Bronwyn," he whispered against her fingertips, "I have every intention of having my way with you tonight. You will not gainsay me, you will not tell me no. You have no desire to stop me; why bother?"

"Very sure of yourself, aren't you?" She tried to sound nonchalant, uncaring, but it rushed forth, breathless, needy...

Ooooh, so very needy.

Removing his hand from the curve of her backside, Severus reached for the doorknob and opened the door. "I am sure," he began, moving her, waltzing her, into the small bathroom, "that I am going to remove your clothing, get you into the shower. I am sure that I am going to lather every delectable inch of your body with whatever feminine foamy thing you have sitting around. I am sure that I will lick and tease and stroke and touch you until you are burning and begging for me to complete what I have started. And then..." he let his voice trail, his eyes taking in her entire form.

"And then what?"

"And then I shall finish what I have started."

***

And in the silence of a mist, of a morning mist
When lips are waiting to be kissed, longing to be kissed
Where is the reason to resist and deny a kiss
That holds a promise of happiness?

A Man and A Woman
Johnny Mathis

***
His mouth found hers, at the same time his hands breached the skin above the waistband of her pants. He released her long enough to pull the shirt over her head, throwing it into a corner. Severus didn't stop to enjoy her flesh, didn't register that the bra she wore was plain, simple. He simply grabbed her and pulled her into him again, both hands cupping the delectable curve of her arse. He ground against her, daring her to defy him, to deny desire.

Truth be told, she was denying nothing; no, she had his bottom lip firmly in that molten cavern from hell she called a mouth, her tongue, coaxing more from him than he wanted to give. She was moaning enough for both of them; no need for him to create a duet.

He lifted his hands, up her back, caressing creamy flesh and finding the hooks of that damnable bra, created, he decided in the back of his fevered, lust-fueled mind, for the sheer purpose of irritating Wizards and Muggle Men alike. It took several tugs to pull the thing apart and in the morning she would curse him for bending the hooks to such a degree the garment was now rendered useless. He pulled away far enough to pull the thing from between them and to look, find the knobs, from her shower.

There were none.

Fine. So be it.

Bronwyn peeled his long jacket from his lean frame; it landed in a heap on top of her shirt and bra. She was now working on the buttons of his lawn shirt, making short work of removing it as well. He removed his wand from its casing on his sleeve and pointed it at the tub.

"On."

Nothing.

He began to wave his wand again, but Bronwyn gently grasped him by the wrist. ""Voice activated."

"Very well." He addressed the tub. "On."

Still nothing.

It dawned on him she was smiling demurely, that is if the creature in his arms - and yes, she was a creature, a creature sent from some heaven, some hell, some ...Moria..., to laugh, tease, and move him in directions no man or wizard should go in - could be thought to do anything demurely.
"My voice activated, Severus." She peered around him. "On. Hot."

The shower burst to life, spraying the both of them with a heavy mist, the water bouncing from the tiled walls, into the small, enclosed room. Somewhere in the steam and mist, clothes were removed, one's lips never leaving the other’s. She almost fell into the tub, as he backed her up, but quickly enough, both were under the prickling spray, painful to the point of pleasure on skin, steam from an unknown source, rising up.

Liquid soap found itself in Severus' palm, the silkiness of it gliding from his fingers to her breasts. Leisurely, he caressed silk, marveling at the press of womanly curves, the beauty of the female body. Curves that fit his palm, made for his hand, a pleasing fleshiness, moved at his silent command. Suds and abundant hair made its way through his hands, strands of mahogany slipping between long fingers, trained in the ballet of moist heat.

Her mouth, her hands were neither still nor silent. Wordlessly, Bronwyn openly, worshipped at the altar of desire, caressing harsh planes, layered muscle over layered muscle. His mouth found her ear; long fingers wound their way to the roots of her tresses. His breathing was heavy, erratic... words falling...

"You still have blood in your hair." With a painful tug, he pulled her head back, exposing the sensitive flesh of her neck. His mouth, tongue, teeth found, nipped their heated way across her chin. With a deft nudge of his leg, he maneuvered her beneath the stinging nettles of water while his eyes roamed her shower. Finding the hair cleanser, he poured a generous amount into her hair, glorying in the suds as they slowly cascaded down her...

***

There was a magnificent waterfall at the back of the pond... the bathing pool... and she stood in it, her back to the Voyeur... to the Elf...sodden reddish brown waves weighed down by the wet mass. Her back was to them, not knowing, not seeing, not aware... the looks... of wanton desire as the foam from her cleansers tumbling down generous...

***

Mentally, Severus closed the thought, forcing the memory, whose ever it was, from his mind. He focused on her, creating his own memories, his own thoughts. His need had risen painfully, throbbing, and with a swift turn, he turned her, facing her into the spray. He propped his right foot on the edge of the tub and reached down with his left hand, stoking wet folds. Her hands immediately went to the wall in front of her and she spread her legs...

His first thrust missed... ramming her clit and pubic bone, apparently painfully if her harsh intake of breath was any indication, in addition to her withdrawal from his body. He reached around, encompassing her pelvis, pulling her back, bending her over, wordlessly forbidding her to move away. His second thrust hit home, impaling him fully and deeply. Her heat surrounded him, combined with the heat of the shower. He set a steady, deep rhythm, the sound of his balls slapping against her web labia. He grabbed another liquid cleanser, and squeezing that bottle, poured a generous amount of the berry scented gel on her shoulder.

His hands spread suds down her back, watching in perverted glee as the foam dripped between the crack of her arse. He followed one glob around to her breasts, caressing the hardened nubs to tight points. The tips of his fingers found the other breast and he pulled, holding the nipples of both in his hand. His free hand slid around lower, finding her clit, nudging her wider...

"Merlin, you are a hot, fekking bitch."

She answered him with a hard, painfully pleasing back thrust. With a force she obviously pulled from deep inside, she turned, forcing him to spring upward into the spray of water. Deftly, she moved, reversing their positions and backing him into the shower. Placing both hands on his shoulders, she pressed downward.

Black eyes bore into hers.

"Do you think you are in charge?"

Her eyes narrowed, whether in vexation or in contemplation, he knew not. "I am going to wash your hair and you are too tall!" With a smirk, he knelt in front of her, only to realize her cuny was at the perfect level for his mouth. He studied it, the exposed lips, the clitoris, hanging, begging to licked, suckled on, the neatly trimmed, short cropped hair resting above her mons. Her hands went into his hair, the smell of berries rising over the steam.

"Hmm."

"Hmm, what?"

For a moment, he reveled in her fingers, her nails, dragging across his scalp. For brief seconds, he allowed his head to nod with her ministrations, before focusing again at the task at the tip of his nose. "You do not shave it completely."

Bronwyn's mouth dropped to tell him the Elves had no pubic hair and Haldir had found hers to be erotic, but she squelched the thought quickly. "No. I don't. Just the bottom...OH!"

Severus' tongue flicked her lower lips, before teasing the now engorged nub between them. Bronwyn's hands abandoned his head, as she leaned backwards to brace herself on the wall. For long minutes, her moans were audible over the falling water as his tongue dipped and delved. When she started slipping, sliding down the wall, he released her, standing up. Grabbing her by her bum, he pulled her into him, into his erection and murmured into her mouth, "Turn it off."

Bronwyn returned the kiss, reveling in her taste on his breath, whispering the word in his mouth. The shower stopped and when he threw the shower curtain back, the chill air made her draw up. "Severu-"

"You will not notice the cold." He stepped out of the tub and held out his hand. She stepped out, almost daintily, her other hand reaching for the towel. "Do not bother."

"But I'm dripping!"

An almost smile graced the craggy face of the wizard. He pulled her to him and whispered into the lashes of her eye...

"I want you dripping."

Both of his hands went into the roots of her hair, pulling it away from her face as his mouth descended on hers. Severus had denied himself too long, denied the wanton pleasure of her body, her breath. He had denied his desire, his own damnable need for her, not only her physical attributes, but her mental sparring with him as well. He more than wanted her, desire her; he wanted her, all of her, all that encompassed her.

A trickle of water, wrung from her hair, lazily drizzled down the column of her neck, below her ear. His tongue found it, stopped its journey and he lapped it up. Slowly, one at a time, he suckled at each dewdrop of water, taking in the essence of it, the salt of her. With infinite patience, he backed her out of the tiny bathroom, into the hallway and towards the bedroom door. By this time, he was steering her, his hand on her bum, down the steps that led down into her bedroom. By now, her hands were tangled in his hair, she was murmuring in some Meriln-forgotten language. As his fingers slid into crevice of her arse, his mouth latched on her left breast, suckling the spray of water from it.

?

They sank to the floor, uncaring the bed was so close.

He pulled at the nipple in his mouth, tugging, listening for her moans to change to a gasp of pain, before moving his attentions to the other. As he settled between her legs, his hands slid from her hips, to her juncture. Two fingers were inserted quickly, testing her waters, her passage, still just as tight as he remembered, still just as wet as he dreamed, satisfied it wasn't just the shower that made her slick.

She wants me...

The thought was unbidden, unexpected and its implications aroused him, heated him further. With a growl, he removed his fingers and grasping her beneath her arse, he slung her legs over his arms, mounting her in an animalistic fury. With each thrust, she grunted, nails raking his back in painful pleasure. In the furthest recess of his fevered mind, he knew, knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, he would be healing rug burns in the near future - hers and his. The knowledge didn't stop him or slow him; rather, his attentions became more forceful, as if to attempt to crawl inside her completely, returning to the womb.

She bit him.

Not hard, more of a gentle scrape, but he hissed at the contact, his skin tingling, every nerve ending on fire. He was mildly disturbed that she would attempt to mark him. With one hand supporting his weight, he impaled himself to the hilt, the other hand, grasping the woman by the chin. Bronwyn jerked once, in attempt to free herself, only to find herself pinned to the floor, firmly in the grasp of the Wizard.

"Look at me," he jerked her face back when she attempted to free herself from his grasp. "Look At Me." Each word was punctuated, almost spat. "You will no-"

"Mine!" It dawned on Severus, that Bronwyn's eyes were as black as his, so dilated the pupils. The light of the moon reflected in them from the large window, giving her an eerie, evil look. "Amin, Lhugmin. Mine!"

An iniquitous smile to match hers graced his face. "Yes, you are mine." His mouth descended on hers again, both body and tongue battling for supreme dominance. For long moments, minutes, time stood still, soundless save for the inevitable slapping of flesh meeting flesh. At some point, she raised her legs, allowing him to fall in deeper and she hooked her feet at the middle of his back. Severus was not aware of the raspiness of her breath, of his, until he heard her grunt in pain. Remembering where they were, he grabbed her leg, forcing her to release him. "Up." He pulled back, pulled out, chuckling at her hiss of impatience. "On the bed. Quickly."

Bronwyn scrambled towards the bed, ignoring the tingling burn on her flesh caused by the carpet. She climbed up-

"Circe! Stay!" It was a harsh whisper, grating, as if forced from his lungs.

Bronwyn was not born yesterday and she knew what an enticing picture she posed, on the bed, on her knees, her legs spread wide. She looked over her shoulder and waggled her posterior.

The Wizard approached her slowly, as if to take visual inventory of her charms. Indeed, he was perusing her at his leisure. His cock was screaming to finish, but he squelched it, determined to draw it out, to make her beg. His hand caressed the curve of her arse, allowing his fingers to trace the wet edges of her nether lips, feather light on her clit.

"Come on, Severus! Damn you, finish what you've started!" Bronwyn pushed backwards, trying to force his fingers into her.

With a sharp crack, he smacked her hard, right where he knew she was already smarting from the adventure on the floor. "Do not move." He smiled at her sharp intake of breath, the sudden expletives in Swahili. "I own no goats, so cursing them is a rather wasted effort." Ignoring her gasp of outrage, he continued to caress the sweet, wet part of her, fingers exploring, invading heat. Finally, he sank to his knees, not to worship at her carnal walls of desire, more so to be...

Easier to taste her.

With both hands, he spread her wide, burying his mouth in her. His tongue delved deep into velvet honey, mindfully aware his cock had just plumbed these very depths. She was salty sweet, moaning at the path his tongue made between her clit and the very heart of her pussy. He continued to hold onto her legs, his fingers spread over her arse, lapping at her. Somewhere in the back of his mind, it registered he could drink until the sun rose over the east, it mattered not, she would still be wet.

His hands moved upwards continuing to spread generous flesh. His tongue followed the path his hands made.

Bronwyn was deep in the throes of animalistic pleasure. It didn't register what he planned until his tongue flicked the rim of her anus. He smacked her again when she leaned forward, as if to escape, the short explosion of sound, rising in the air.

"Do not."

Bronwyn leaned back, into the pressure of his tongue, eventually, his gently probing fingers, opening a passage that had not been explored or plundered in some time. Nevertheless, she tensed when he climbed on the bed.

"You are no stranger to this. Relax." Severus reached around beneath her, finding her clit.

"To the left, to the left...yesss..." her voice trailed off as he found that sweet spot.

Severus had lasted about as long as he could and he knew the moment he sank into that one haven, he would not last. He continued his ministrations-

"OH GOD!" Bronwyn bucked once... twice... falling over the edge of her own self control.

Severus slid into the convulsing walls of her pussy, the warmth of her orgasm, coating and lubricating his cock. "I thought we have discussed this before. I am not He."

With that, he moved up, placing himself to a tighter passage, already lubricated and prepared. He slid in, the way opening.... tight and hot. She was still in the throes, utterances in a language he didn't know falling from her mouth and soon lost himself in the feel of her wrapped around him.

His last coherent thought was the sound of his voice, calling her name.

***

He awoke early the next morning to the early winter morning sun pouring through the windows, and the sensation of her mouth, wrapped around his cock as he was exploding.

***
We got too many gangsters doing dirty deeds
We’ve got too much corruption, too much crime in the streets
Its time the long arm of the law put a few more in the ground
Send em all to their maker and hell settle em down
You can bet hell set em down cause

Toby Keith
***

Over the following days, leading to Christmas, the group discussed the Things they found in her home and why they were there; a sneak attack, attempt to remove her support system...

"Making a point."

"Making a point?" Ellahan threw the suggestion out to much eyebrows raised

"Think about it" He smacked his twin. "What is more sacred to Grandmama than the sanctity of her home?"

Severus did not as much as raise his eyes from the ancient tome he had masked as a potions periodical. "Elaborate." Everyone looked at someone... else.

"Home." Bronwyn's voice was soft, almost inaudible. "All healing takes place at home; home is a fortress, a hideaway. It's impenetrable, it's safe, it's sacred. Or it should be.”

Making a point... if they could get to her in her house... get into her home...

No where was safe. Not even here.

When Severus finally looked up, he looked into the brown eyes of the terrified. "We need to find it, Severus." Her voice shook with emotion. Finally, she realized how important it was to find her bow, realized that time was running out…

"Yes."

Elven eyes darted back and forth between woman and wizard.

"No mercy, Severus.” Browyn’s voice was a furious hiss. “I want him dead and I will not show him an ounce of mercy!"

It was several long moments before he answered.

"I have no intention on showing any mercy when this is over."

You got to saddle up your boys
You got to draw a hard line
When the gun smoke settles we’ll sing a victory tune
Well all meet back at the local saloon
Well raise up our glasses against evil forces
Singing whiskey for my men, beer for my horses

Beer for my Horses
Toby Keith

***

Severus sighed inwardly and rolled his eyes. It was an inaudible, felt to the pit of his stomach, exasperating, I-have-had-it-with-the-world-with-the-holidays-but-most-of-all-with-that bothersome-annoying--she-evil-woman-her-gods-and-everyone-else's-gods-that-I-don't-believe-in-have-saddled-me-with sigh.

At least at this moment, she is reasonably content.

A sigh not his rose over the bookcase.

Reasonably content.

Students would be arriving back from the holidays within days and quite frankly, he rather looked forward to the screaming massed spawn of others’ hormonal urges.

His red correcting quill couldn't wait to sink its never ending - ink tip in Weasley's concoctions.

Another sigh wafted in the air over the dusty volumes of potions that Severus' nose twitched over. Severus focused on a thin and rather out-dated-

... more in the category of ridiculous...

tome of Monsieur Macabre's Potiones de la Amour - to focus and grit his teeth. "Bronwyn. If you are that plagued with melancholy-"

"No. NO!" Her disembodied voice rose from nowhere. "I'm fine. It's just... just..." her voice trailed off, words evaporating in the stirred up dust of a forgotten corner of Flourish and Blotts

Those two words spoke volumes and of all, Severus knew how much those two words weighed on her.

He had been forced to 'enjoy' Christmas Eve dinner with her and the plethora of Elves she called Family. Somehow, he managed to not be forced to endure Christmas morning, although he found a slew of gifts left inside his private chamber doors-

---probably popped in by that bloody house elf...and more than likely booby trapped...

and forced to endure long, drawn-out farewells at the train station when they returned to Muggle World and Elf-land. He would not have believe the woman could squeeze out so much moisture had he not been forced to sleep in the wet spot –

- Thank Merlin for drying spells –

- she created in the bed. Daft woman had the audacity to blame him for it: ridiculous thought.

More sniffing.

With a silent snort, Severus whispered, "Bron-"

"LOOK!" The disembodied voice became the top of a bobbing head, barely visible over the top of the stand-alone bookcase, "if I'm bothering you that much, just go away and pick me up later!" Random lascivious thoughts ran through the Wizard's mind, thoughts of

picking her up naked and slinging her-

"I have something that is eating at me-"

Woman, please cease with the metaphoric-

"-and this is the only time I'm going to have time to study it!" The bouncing head disappeared and not so quietly stomped off, followed by her leashed beast.

With no one the wiser, Severus straightened his frockcoat, expertly covering himself, while shaking his leg in order to readjust his semi-erection. He watched her flounce away, visions of bouncing buttocks and breasts...

Bronwyn was in a slow-simmering fury. The man was reprehensible; after all, she had to watch her family leave yet again, her daughter, her precious son and grandsons, not knowing when she would see them again, if she would ever see Duncan in this lifetime again ever. Strange, how the child had tried to reassure her, rather than the other way around upon his departure.

"A-da wit you, all ways, Ma-ma. A-da watches o-ver you."

Yes, Duncan. Your father is always with me. Always.

Without thought, she reached for the wolf she knew would be at her side. Strange. For the past few months, the thought that Haldir was somewhere, watching, following her every move, had been worrisome, bothersome. The thought that he would be judging her, holding her lust for the Potions Master against her, had nagged at her to the marrow of her bones.

It had upset her stomach numerous times.

However in recent weeks, that worry.... the fear had faded. In a strange sense, she felt at peace with the snarky bastard; felt as if his arms were where she was supposed to be...

... for now.

Of all, the for now of it was what distressed her.

*If I'm supposed to be with him for now, what happens if we complete this mission and I'm returned to Haldir? What happens to Severus?*

Bronwyn shook her head and continued to fume, moving in the opposing direction of the Wizard, clutching the tomes to her chest. There were no children looking for texts, no shoppers looking for Christmas gifts for bibliophiles. As a result, the dusty store was quiet, almost deserted. What few wizards and witches were there, Bronwyn took no notice. The few there gave her a wide berth regardless, her furry companion snarling off any that would disturb her. She spied a quiet corner and headed towards it. As she got closer, a large comfy chair and an old - fashioned lamp and side table materialized. Her mood lightening, she smiled and sank gratefully into the chair, slipping out of her shoes and tucking her feet under her. "Bobbin!" she whispered. "Won't you get in trouble for leaving Hogwarts?"

A wizened old house elf appeared at her left elbow. "I is Latchkey," the elf spoke formally. "I is house elf to Branford Flourish and requested to see to your needs." He dipped his head in deference. "Coffee or tea?"

Bronwyn dipped her head in conspiracy towards the house elf. "Dr. Pepper."

The elf made a face, his shoulders coming up to his ears. "Is nasty Muggle drink." His face brightened. "Perhaps nice Earl Grey-"

"Can I please have a Dr. Pepper?" she cajoled. "If you can't get it, I suppose I'll take some catnip tea." Bronwyn looked down at the wolf. "Would you like the usual?" Amadeus chuffed once. "Whiskey please, for my friend."

With a deep sigh, the elf disappeared with a slight pop.

For forever, she sat, curled in the chair, pouring over the books she had removed from the shelf. She scanned, scowled, reread, cross-referenced, her lowered foot swinging back and forth, comfort found in the fur of her companion. She made no notice of when a glass of Dr. Pepper made its way to the small table and she took no notice of it being replaced with the catnip tea. She took no notice of Severus peering over the shelves on more than one occasion to check on her, she took no notice of the occasional patron wandering by; she was engrossed in the books.

"Ahem. Professor?"

Bronwyn's head jerked up, shocked out of her semi-reverie. It took moment for her to focus, register on the person in front of her, the bright light from the front window casting a harsh glowing halo around them. The witch stepped out of the light, features now framing a familiar face.

"Constance!" Bronwyn smiled at the Arithmacy Professor. "I've not seen you since the students left. Did you go home for the hols?"

The young woman smiled demurely, almost shyly. "Yes, I went to the family estate, in northern Scotland." She glanced over to the books Bronwyn was reading. "Might I inquire-"

"Yes, inquire and maybe you can help!" Bronwyn nodded to the spot next to her. "Conjure up a chair and have a seat." A straighter, not as well padded chair appeared from nowhere and Constance sank gratefully into it, following Bronwyn's lead and slipping out of her shoes. "Scotland, you say? I had you pegged as an American."

"Yes, I am." Constance picked up the top book in the stack Brownyn had and began to peruse through it. "I'm American by birth, but my grandmother was from Scotland." She smiled wistfully. "She was a younger daughter of Muggles and her grandfather was not appreciative of her gifts. She left home and moved to America after she completed her studies."

"I'm very sorry." Bronwyn murmured.

"Don’t be. By all reports, he was a nasty reprobate and it's rumored the ghosts in the castle killed him." She turned a page. "As it stands, I'm the last descendant. I imagine it would horrify the crusty old soul that a witch is now sole owner of his run down, frozen home."

Bronwyn inhaled sharply, seeing the shadowy figure of Mr. Scrapton oozing between the nearest racks. She waited until he disappeared. "I don't like that man."

"Who?" Constance was engrossed in the book.

"The History of Magic Professor; Scrapton. He gives me the willies." She waited until she had eye contact with Constance. "He gives a lot of the older female students the willies as well."

"Yessss..." Constance's words trailed off. "Bronwyn? About the book, what is it you are particularly interested in?"

"Ley lines."

Constance's eyebrows rose. "Those are powerful earth magicks." Her attention returned to the book in hand and she slowly turned the page. "Something to delve into for your classes or just... personal interest."

Bronwyn grimaced. "Both really." She lifted the large book she had. "My kingdom for a table, anyone?" Constance grinned and a larger table materialized, making the passage around the area the two women sat, impossible to navigate. Bronwyn sat the book down, its pages opened to a large map of the United Kingdom and Ireland. Her fingers traced the lines superimposed on the map. "Powerful earth magicks and an ancient magik." She followed a particular line. "Druids and ancient pagans placed a great deal of emphasis on ley lines, ancient churches were built on them, on the crossroads of many." Her fingers circled one such crossroad, in the vicinity of Hogwarts. "I'm curious as to how many Wizard homes or ancestral homes are built on them." Without touching down, her hand passed over Wales, her eyes resting on a spot, close to the sea, where seven lines intersected. "One wonders how many Wizards were infused over the ages, living on them, their families living on them for generations, absorbing what was in the soil.

"That is an interesting observation and I would imagine it would make a wonderful doctorial thesis."

Bronwyn sat back and snatched up her teacup. "Oh darn. You stole my idea."

Constance laughed, a tinkling bell like sound. "Oh, I'll let you take the credit for this one. Quite honestly, I'm rather busy in my own personal endeavors to worry about digging about a doctorial thesis that most of the Wizard World will scoff at it for the simple fact they cannot see past their very noses." She set the book in her lap back on the stack and pointed to three on the bottom. "I have these either in my rooms at school. I can loan them to you if you like."

Growling under Bronwyn's chair caused both women to look up, only to see Scrapton peering at them over a bookshelf. He quickly ducked, his gulp very audible.

"I do not like that man!"

Again, a very feminine giggle escaped the younger professor. "I think he's more frightened of you than you are of him. You are quite the enigma."

Bronwyn drained her tea, her voice echoing in the cup, "I'm no different than anyone else."

"Except you married an Elf and you've lived more life than anyone will ever live." She started to rise, both table and chair, fading away. "The Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws are very envious of you."

"The Slytherins hate me."

Constance waved her hand. "The Slytherins hate everyone. If what I've heard is true, they'll spend years living down the sins of their fathers and grandfathers."

Bronwyn started to rise, picking up the books she had decided to purchase. "Humility is a difficult lesson for teenagers to learn."

"Aye." Constance slid her feet back in her shoes and picked up her bag. "I'll have a house elf bring those books to you." She turned towards the nearest aisle. "I hope the remainder of your holiday is peaceful."

Bronwyn was getting the rest of her things together. "I appreciate it...." she looked up to emptiness.”...Constance. Constance?" Her stomach growled and she rubbed it absently. "Are you hungry?" Amadeus looked at her in a rather comical manner. "What am I thinking? You're a wolf. You're as bad as any growing boy!" The canine chuffed in annoyance. "Let's go find Severus, tell him we need fed!"

Lunch was not a quiet affair. Severus took them to the Leaky Cauldron and it was not as motionless as the bookstore. The threesome were enjoying a low-key lunch in the corner, one of the books Bronwyn had purchased open next to the bowl so she could read it, when the silence was interrupted by an oily smooth voice.

"Severus, Madame Powell, how utterly charming to run into you!" Bronwyn's spoon stopped in mid-rise, split pea soup spilling over the side as her eyes rose to meet Lucius Malfoy's.

"I'm sure," she drawled, before continuing her meal. Amadeus began to growl. "Hush. It's a bit late to warn us now," she whispered.

Not to be deterred, Lucius grabbed a chair from a neighboring table and sat down amiably between her and Severus. He turned the book towards him she was reading. "Ley Lines. What a lovely, antiquated subject." Bronwyn snatched the book from him and set it in the bag next to her chair. She returned her attentions to her meal. Lucius smiled insincerely at Severus and addressed the woman. "I have question I do hope you'll answer."

"Whut?"

"Lucius," Severus drawled, never turning loose of his knife and fork, "we are rather busy here."

"I see." Lucius turned his attention back to Bronwyn. "I understand you orchestrated a paintball fight among the Seventh -"

"Snowball. It was a snowball fight." Bronwyn never looked up and continued to eat.

"- Years. What academic or educational purpose did this... erm... snowball fight have?"

Bronwyn never ceased spooning the soup. "It was a reenactment of an important and crucial Muggle battle."

"Couldn't you just lecture on the subject, rather than-"

"They'll remember it better, Mister Malfoy."

"Tell me, Madame Powell, how was this particular project graded? Did the winning side get the automatic A, while the losing side-"

Bronwyn was beginning to reach the bottom of her bowl, the spoon scraping painfully across the bottom as her temper was beginning to show. "Each student was graded on how well they worked with their teammates, their willingness to be part of a team."

Lucius made a small moue. "That is rather... questionable, is it not?"

"No."

"Still, I think-"

Bronwyn slung her spoon into the bowl, causing green pea matter to splatter on her and Malfoy, much to Malfoy's disgust, "Listen to me, you sanctimonious little twerp! You don't teach my class, nor do you have the expertise I have." Her voice rose and the light background banter in the restaurant came to a halt. "It was an important battle in a very devastating war. They learned to work together, because some time, in the future, in real life, MISTER Malfoy," Bronwyn was now pointing at the Wizard, using the digit to punctuate her words, " they will have to work with, work for or work in the presence of either someone they despise, or who has shite for brains, not to mention they will remember the implications of this battle and others well past their NEWTS. Perhaps, they'll even be a bit more open and understanding to Muggles and how they manage to survive without magic!" She picked up her spoon and returned to her meal. "Not to mention they were able to get outside and play without worrying who was from what House and who was not! Have you ever been stuck indoors with two or three hundred children who have been stuck indoors for far too long? I didn't think so! Good day, Mister Malfoy."

The ensuing silence was eerie.

"You don't value your job, Madame Powell, do you?"

Up until that point, Severus had sat by quietly, quietly finishing his bangers and mash. At the not very well veiled threat, he drawled softly, "I do not think it is a matter of valuing a job that she does very well. I think it is more a matter of bandying words with someone who has no power over her and tiring of it." He smiled snidely at the blonde wizard and put the final fork-full in his mouth.

"Well," Lucius stood up, buttoning his coat. "I suppose we will just have to wait until the NEWT and OWL scores come back before one can state if she is doing an adequate job or not."

"I said, good DAY, Mister Malfoy!" Bronwyn's voice was raised and it was obvious that as far as she was concerned, the conversation was over. They watched as the man walked away. "Amadeus," Bronwyn hissed, "next time, just bite his bollocks off!"

I have something more painful in mind, Baraermin.

Severus looked down at the wolf, hearing the thought clearly. "Bronwyn that was not wise-"

"It's out in the open." Bronwyn wiped her mouth daintily and laid her napkin down. "He knows I’m on to him and I won't beat around the bush. I'm not helpless and I won't put up with his or anyone else's bullshite." She stood up. "I swear Severus, Thranduil was a better opponent than that... that..."

"Snake?"

"Ooooooh!" She picked up her bags and packages and handed them to Severus to shrink to a tolerable size. "I need desert and desert here isn't the greatest." She picked up Amadeus' leash.

In other words, Wizard, she wants some wine and something sweet from the kitchens.

Severus snarled to himself and cut off the intrusion into his mind. Taking Bronwyn's elbow, he steered her from the table and out of the restaurant, both so wrapped in their own thoughts and anger, they weren't aware of more than one pair of malicious eyes following them out.

***

What luck to find the bitch here. Books on ley lines, what is the importance of ley lines? And openly challenging one of the most powerful wizards of this generation! You couldn't make easier for me, could you?

Soon mother.... soooooo very soon you'll gladly give up your secrets...

***
TBC
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