Separate bedrooms. Separate offices. Separate lives. There was
nothing, really, to make anyone think that Severus Snape was
anything more to Albus Dumbledore than a trusted, if sometimes
difficult, employee. There was nothing to suggest to anyone that
Albus Dumbledore was anything more to Severus Snape than an
occasionally misguided authority figure.
Snape was tired. It wasn't often that he became this weary. He
didn't require sleep every day the way ordinary wizards did. He
preferred to work through the night on his potions, or walk the
halls of the school making sure that nothing was amiss on the
grounds. Normally this didn't make a difference in how he felt by
day, but he had neglected his usual self care lately in preparation
for the opening feast and the arrival of the students, most
especially Potter. There were wards that had to be double-checked,
reinforced, checked for weaknesses. There were passwords that had to
be changed.
Not only had Snape been very busy with this, but Albus, as well, had
been so busy that he'd been unavailable for more than a week.
The veins in his temples were throbbing. He was very hungry. If only
he could steal a moment before the opening feast. He was rounding
another corner heading for the tower with its familiar gargoyle and
sugary password, when he ran straight into Professor McGonagall.
"Severus," she began, agitated, fumbling with her hat, which had
gone crooked in the collision. She seemed very upset.
"Calm yourself, Professor," he answered. "The fault was mine. I
wasn't looking."
"I didn't hear you coming down the hall."
"No, you wouldn't-not in your current form, anyway."
"That's not it-I'm not upset about that. It's Potter and Weasley.
They're not in the carriages."
He wasn't surprised. The two Gryffindors seemed determined to break
every rule on the books before they graduated. If they graduated.
"So they weren't on the train."
"No." Only her eyes betrayed the worry she felt.
Severus cursed himself inwardly for taking himself off the floo
network. At the time, he'd done it because he was sick of listening
to Lucius' drooling tirades about how times were about to change,
Voldemort was coming back, and the muggle-lovers were going to get
what was coming to them. He'd dismissed it as Lucius' usual
theatrics. Now he realized that there had been some foundation to
Lucius' babbling. Clearly he'd been up to something. Some kind of
spell, a resurrection, perhaps...but that would require....."What
about the girl? Granger? Where is she?"
"She's furious that they weren't on the train. I spoke with her just
before she boarded her carriage. She's perfectly safe."
Snape sighed with what sounded like exasperation, but was actually
relief. "Good. Keep an eye on her, and tell the girl to keep her
mouth shut. I'll find them." "But, Severus-" "Tell Albus I'll be
back when I find them. You have the sorting to see to."
There would be no time to kindle a fire in his rooms, or sneak
something into his body before the opening ceremonies, or explain
things to Albus. Potter was in serious danger. As usual. Albus would
be busy with announcements. Hagrid had the first years to see to.
And of course, Minerva had the sorting. As usual, Severus was the
one who was available to see to the crisis. He wouldn't have minded
if he hadn't been so tired and hungry, and if only it hadn't meant
getting on a broom. He shuddered.
Even though he was a creature capable of levitation, and even a kind
of flight, and even though he knew that falling could not hurt or
kill him, Severus suffered as keenly from vertigo as any muggle. He
whispered an incantation to a statue of Ulric the Oddball that was
just around the next corner. A passage opened which contained an
elevator. He plunged rapidly to the dungeons, where he kept his
special remedy.
On a tall shelf, in a glass jar, he kept an assortment of what
looked like little balls of colored twine. They were roots,
specifically ginseng, mistletoe, and beet roots, knotted together
with a charm and saturated in skullcap extract. The taste was quite
awful, and of course, it stained his teeth, but if he were to fly,
the little knotted root was absolutely necessary. He clenched one
between his teeth, muttered, "Fortificus," and seized his old Nimbus
88. An unbelievably bitter and foul taste filled his mouth, but he
was eager now to take to the air.
He took the same route out into the grounds, and began to fly as
high in the darkening, cloud-ridden sky as he dared. The rain was
beginning to pour. Snape whispered an Impervius spell. He didn't
feel like returning dripping wet to sit through the feast. He
circled the castle first, and then headed across the lake to the
route the train should have taken. That was when he saw it. The
flying car. He flew up out of its sightlines and then came in for a
better look.
He flew over the car, and spun so that he was flying just behind and
above. Through the window he could see two glowing yellow eyes.
Potter's owl. He closed in a bit closer and caught a distinct
glimpse of the back of a red head. Weasley. Well, at least he'd
found them.
But now that he'd found them, what was he going to do? It seemed
like a waste of time to try to get the boys to land the car and fly
the rest of the way on brooms. After all, they were already in the
air. Either way he was going to have to escort them. He decided not
to bother with announcing his presence. He was having a great deal
of trouble staying on course himself. Potter probably needed to
concentrate on steering.
There was a very strong gale blowing. Several times Snape was nearly
blown off his broom. Once, he spilled sideways and almost fell onto
the car, because he was glancing around to make sure that no one was
flying nearby, or standing on the ground, aiming a wand at the car.
It would have been a remarkably easy target. What was it about
Potter, anyway? He always seemed to manage to find the one place no
one had thought to place protection on, and go there.
Incredibly, as the castle came into view, the car began to descend.
Severus was about to relax, and head for the the ground to meet them
and escort them to the castle, when he realized that they weren't
landing so much as falling. He followed the arc of their descent,
thinking to do a charm to slow it, when he saw that they were
plummeting towards what was, as far as he was concerned, a lethal
assemblage of sharp sticks. Falling from the sky onto branches. He
swerved sharply to the right to avoid impaling himself, and only
received a sharp glancing blow to the side of his head. It was
enough to send him flying off of his broomstick and into the garden
wall. He was actually pleased to feel the impact of the wall. It
meant he'd escaped the tree once more. A single broken branch could
kill him.
He staggered to his feet in time to see a branch about to smash into
Potter with enough force to crush his skull. He fired a spell at
Potter to deflect impact. The branch missed him by inches. Severus
stayed where he was for a moment, watching as the car fell from the
tree, ejected its passengers, and sped away. He certainly didn't
blame it.
Freed from the danger of the Whomping Willow, the two boys picked up
their luggage and began to trudge towards the castle. "Idiots," he
muttered. "Why don't they levitate it, like normal people?" He
briefly considered doing it for them, then dismissed the idea. They
certainly didn't deserve it. The evening was already shot, they'd
most likely missed the feast, so there was no sense speeding things
along at this point.
He trailed behind them, making sure that they hadn't been followed.
His suspicions were growing. If only Lucius didn't have a son at
Hogwarts, he could make sure the man never came onto the grounds. It
was probably for the best, he reflected, that he'd taken himself off
the network. Lucius would no doubt try to use Severus as a way to
get in, and Severus was determined not to let him do that. As he
approached the castle, a dark shape fluttered towards him and
dropped something into his hand. It was a special edition of the
Daily Prophet, detailing multiple muggle sightings of the flying
car.
Severus spat out the bitter tasting roots. There was something about
this that didn't feel quite right. The news had come out too fast.
There was something about it that felt rigged. Severus sensed
Lucius' hand in it.
Surely now Potter would be sent home. Severus didn't know if he
could handle Lucius if Potter was going to go gallivanting all over
the place, distracting him all term. If Potter went home, Severus
could open his floo and find out what Lucius was planning. With
Potter in residence, that would quite simply be too dangerous.
Lucius could get in while Severus was teaching, and find a way to
ambush Potter. It was all entirely too easy. But if the boy were
sent home, Lucius would never find him.
He began to close the distance between himself and the two boys,
walking at a very fast clip, leaving the ground at times. As he came
closer, he heard them speculating about his absence. "Look-there's
an empty chair at the staff table," Potter was saying. "Maybe he's
left, because he's missed out on the Dark Arts job again."
"Or maybe he's been sacked," he heard Ron say with enthusiasm. "That
would be brilliant. Everyone hates him."
"Or maybe," Snape suggested, feeling like the soul of patience
itself, "he's waiting to hear why you two didn't arrive on the train
with everyone else." The way the two boys jumped, then stared, was
almost worth all the trouble he'd just been through. He smiled.
Almost. Not quite. He made eye contact with Albus and Minerva across
the great hall. Albus nodded, and Snape began to shepherd the boys
to his office. He wanted to make sure all was as he had left it. It
was. "In!" he commanded.
Both boys began to babble about what had actually kept them off the
train. He had the growing certainty that Lucius would tell him all
about it later. It wouldn't do to already know the details.
"Silence!" he barked. It would be better not to hear their side. He
could more or less guess, anyway. He read to them from the article.
He realized as he read that Lucius seemed to be using the boys to
strike at Arthur Weasley. "Dear, dear, his own son," Snape muttered.
Very clever and resourceful of him. It would look just like a
schoolboy prank. No one would suspect that Lucius' ridiculous
vendetta against Weasley was at the bottom of it. The car. He was
going to use it to get Weasley sacked, if he could find it. "What
have you done with the car?" he asked. It would probably be a good
idea to find the wretched thing before Lucius did. The two boys were
still stammering explanations as he swept out of the room in search
of McGonagall.
He went to fetch McGonagall. "It seems the boys have been caught in
some kind of crossfire between Malfoy and Weasley, and we've been
caught right along with them. That car is a piece of contraband that
could cost Weasley his job. I don't have to tell you what that would
do to the balance of power in the ministry. We need Weasley where he
is." McGonagall nodded. "Of course, you can't expect children to
think of these things."
"That being the case, I hope that you will consider moving Potter to
a less complicated environment, one where he can't do any more
damage."
Minerva gave him a prim, thin-lipped glare. "Thank you, Severus, I
will give that suggestion all the consideration it deserves."
"Minerva, try to think about something besides Quidditch for a
moment. As much as I will enjoy winning our little wagers once
Potter is gone, I'm suggesting this for safety reasons, and not out
of sheer malice."
McGonagall's expression softened. "I know, Severus. But I can handle
my students. I saw you safely through, didn't I?"
One corner of Severus' mouth twitched, and his eyes sparkled.
"Beginner's luck."
Minerva snorted.
Snape barely listened to the conversation which followed between
McGonagall and her charges. He watched the flames Minerva had lit
crackle in the fireplace. Of course. It was probably very
uncomfortably chilly in this room for the Gryffindors. He never
really thought about things like that himself. Fire didn't warm him.
There was only one thing that ever made him feel truly warm. When he
heard Albus knock on the door, he couldn't surpress a smile.
Albus flooded the room with magic. It emanated from him like tiny
white bubbles, carbonating the air around him. Severus drew closer
to feel it.
Unfortunately, Minerva and Albus decided not to expel the boys. When
Severus objected, Albus calmly reminded him that it was Minerva's
decision. It was maddening, the confidence Albus had in people. It
was annoying, too, that that confidence generally turned out to be
well-placed. People seemed to end up doing whatever Albus wanted
them to do. It was irritating. Enviable. Irresistible. The sheer
power of Albus, the way he managed things without ever raising his
voice or forcing anyone to do anything against their will was
staggering. Severus glowered, frustrated now that he had been
sentenced to another year of running himself ragged watching two
houses.
"Come, Severus," Albus' cool voice soothed. "There's a lovely
custard tart I want to sample."
With a last glance at the fireplace and the two children, Severus
allowed himself to be swept from the room. He didn't have much
resistance left in him, truth to tell. "Your hands are very cold,
Severus," Albus whispered, taking one between his own. He didn't
bother to tell Albus about how close he had come to the willow, or
the rain, or any of it. Albus had probably figured it all out. He
also didn't bother to tell him about Lucius. It was clear from the
way Albus had listened to the two children that he knew. He stood,
exhausted, leaning against the other man for a moment. "Now, or do
you want to wait until after the feast?" Severus smiled. "I'd prefer
you to be at your best."
"Afterwards it is, then."
He suffered himself to be led to the staff table, where he picked at
his food and watched Albus savor his meal, and linger over the
desserts. The glow around the older wizard increased. He smiled, he
bubbled, he twinkled at people. Severus was more comfortable
watching from the shadows as Albus fluttered around like some
butterfly. He waited patiently for the feast to end. He and
Dumbledore left the banquet hall by opposite doors which led to the
same corridor leading to the Headmaster's study.
Their robes rustled as they moved quickly to the study. Albus was
already undoing his collar. Severus pulled him close and swept him
into a slow kiss. He tasted of honey and butterbeer. He smelled even
better. Frankincense, myrrh, and ginger. Severus groaned and pressed
against him. Albus slid halfway out of his robes, and pulled back
his long white hair to reveal a perfect, smooth neck, pulse bright
and lively. It was too much. Albus laughed at how quickly Severus
succumbed, burying his face in the white hair and biting down,
finally.
Severus was swept away into a different world at these times. A
world inside of Albus. He absorbed much more than merely Albus'
blood when the Headmaster fed him. He also could taste some of his
thoughts, his energy, his life force. White bee, that was what Albus
Dumbledore meant. Severus imagined a hive of spun sugar bees buzzing
around, creating Albus. He could taste every dessert Albus had
sampled earlier. What was more wonderful, was that he could taste it
the way Albus did, enjoying the sweetness, being swept away into a
trance of pleasure by a bit of caramel or butterscotch. The most
wonderful thing, though, was experiencing the Headmaster's absolute
trust that the vampire would not harm him, and the fact that it was
true. Feeding off Albus actually filled Severus with goodness, and
both men knew it.
Whenever Albus fed him, he felt stronger afterwards. Steadier. Warm.
He felt, for hours afterwards, as if he understood perfectly why
Albus did the things he did, the method to his madness. They pressed
their open palms together, then interlocked them. Their hands were
the exact same size. They were the same height as well, which made
lovemaking incredibly easy. Everything simply fit.
"You're warm now, I see," the Headmaster breathed. His glasses had
disappeared, and Severus saw that his pupils were so dilated that
there was only the merest sliver of sky blue encircling the black.
"Oh, very. Thank you," he answered, kissing the Headmaster's neck,
his ear, and finally the tip of his nose. Very aroused now, he began
to remove his own robes. Albus arched his neck, slipped out of his
robes, and sat in a half lotus on the bed, looking very much like a
yogi. He was in the bliss state that vampire "victims" reach during
feeding. He felt ecstatic, worshipful, in love. Crazed with helpless
desire for the dark, slender man in front of him, who slipped his
limbs around the seated Headmaster and sat in his lap, naked, facing
him, legs wrapped around him tightly. There was nothing he would not
have done for Severus in this hypnotic state. Severus would never
take advantage of that, and both men knew it.
They sat that way awhile, savoring the attraction between them,
before stretching out on their sides, and moving to pleasure one
another, each taking the other into his mouth. It didn't take very
long for the sensation to bring either of them over the edge, Albus
first, and then Severus in empathy, again haunted by the image of
those white bees swarming from their hive, this time made of salt
instead of sugar, tingling through his veins, his balls, his cock,
swarming into Albus, and back into him.
Afterwards, he held Albus against his chest, and waited while the
older, mortal man fell asleep. He tucked him in, gently, kissed him
on the forehead, and slipped back into his own robes. Feeling
completely refreshed, he was now ready to cope with another week of
chasing Potter around and pretending to agree with everything Lucius
said. It would be no trouble at all. He was, as Albus had rightly
observed, more than equal to the task.
Title: White Bees
Author: Titania
Rating: NC-17 - sort of.
A/N: Set during Chamber of Secrets, at the beginning of the term.
