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31_days2007-08-21 11:46 pm
alyxbradford.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2007-08-21 11:46 pm
[21 August] [Harry Potter] Restorative
Title: Restorative
Day/Theme: 21 August - Nights drenched in passion’s colour
Series: Harry Potter
Character/Pairing: Rowena/Godric, implied Rowena/Salazar
Rating: PG13 (non-explicit sexuality)
Word Count: 1550
Rowena's fingers were still tangled in Godric's bright copper hair as she wrenched her mouth away from his, moaning, "No, no, Godric, this is not wise, not at all..."
"Forget wise." Godric inhaled the gentle scent of her hair, before pressing a line of kisses to her throat. "For once in your life, Ro, put your damned brain to rest and just let yourself feel something!"
Rowena whimpered, unable to resist the utter onslaught of emotion with which Godric overwhelmed her, awakening parts of herself that she tried so hard to keep locked down. 'I cannot let myself... I was warned... strong of mind and weak of heart... I cannot...' But his hands were around her waist, holding her fast, and his lips captured hers again, swift and possessive, and Rowena lost all strength to resist. The call of her body, imploring her to yield, became too insistent, too enthralling.
The surrender felt like an explosion, white light blinding her, her blood thrumming so loudly in her ears that it blocked out the rest of the world for one brief moment. And when she returned to herself, there was only Godric. No room, no half-built school, no one else in the world, nothing else in all of existence except for her body and his, no sound but his loving words whispered to her.
She didn't realise her knees had slackened beneath her until Godric lifted her up, her body so small and delicate in his powerful arms. She would never remember how she got to be naked, except that Godric had proceeded with reverent abandon, as though opening a much-desired package, eager and excited, but with near-worship in his eyes, and a touch that was no less ardent for its awareness of her tiny form and delicate bones.
Rowena clung to him till dawn, glorying in every second, in the intimate rhythm of their bodies. Godric made the most of his opportunity, all too aware that Rowena might never allow herself such a slip again. He brought her to the height of pleasure again and again, determined . Only in the break of morning did he finally weary, collapsing beside her, one muscled arm still thrown over her petite form.
Rowena was surprised to find she had slept at all. It seemed impossible, utterly bewildering, that with her blood still singing in excitement, her nerves still humming with energy, she could rest even for a short time. And when she woke, it was to find Godric with his head propped up on his arm, gazing thoughtfully at her. It made her blush; his eyes were too intense, too enraptured. "How can you do that?" she asked, when after a moment she found her voice.
"Do what?" he asked, reaching out to stroke her cheek.
"Look at me like that." She closed her eyes. "Like I'm... I don't know."
Swift but gentle, Godric slid an arm around Rowena and pulled her atop him. His hands drifted over her shoulders, down her arms, featherlight, and Rowena thought, not for the first time, that it should be impossible, that the solid Saxon warrior should prove himself so ferocious on the battlefield and so tender in the bedroom.
"Like you're the most precious creation under the sun?" he said, voice as low as the morning sun. "Like you're perfect and delicate and I can't believe my luck? Like I can't figure out what I did to be deserving of this?" Rowena closed her eyes against the guilt. Godric, misinterpreting, drew her down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "My very own faery princess. My very own angel."
After he left, Rowena went to her bronze mirror, frowning at the circles beneath her eyes, and at how pale she looked. 'Not again,' she thought, pinching colour into her cheeks. 'It cannot happen again...'
But Godric's eyes, smouldering with desire, followed her all day, and the touch of his hands haunted her, the memory of his fingers ghosting over her skin. And when night fell, she found herself waiting.
So it went, for a week.
Helga's bright blue eyes shot wide when Rowena slumped into her chair for breakfast. "You look a fright," she said, quite candidly.
"I haven't been sleeping," Rowena mumbled, reaching for the bread and a hunk of cheese.
"I profess that's hardly a surprise. Whatever are you working on, that's keeping you up so late?" Helga asked, with concern.
"It isn't... it isn't precisely like that."
Helga's pretty pink lips pressed into a line. "Ro, since when do you keep secrets about what you're working on? It's hardly fair, and we did all promise not to conduct any experiments without the-- oh!" Somewhere in the midst of the chastisement, an alternative reason for Rowena's pallor and drooping eyelids made itself known to Helga. "Ro. You haven't been--?"
Staring moodily down at her bread, Rowena nodded, very slowly.
"But-- Rowena, who?!" At a sharp look flinting out of the grey eyes, Helga had the good grace to blush, and amend, "I'm sorry, Ro, I didn't mean that the way it sounds, but... oh, it isn't a secret, really, that they both... so which one?"
Raising her eyes to her friend's face, Rowena drew a deep breath. 'If I can't tell her... well, there's really no one else, is there?' But her lips felt slightly dry. "Godric."
Helga did not gasp, or drop her jaw, or make any other sort of overt reaction, for which Rowena was grateful. But she did sit back, staring almost appraisingly at Rowena. "You know, I wouldn't have guessed that. I always assumed his honour would get the better of him." Rowena scowled. "Well! It isn't as though Salazar struggles with moral quandaries in quite the same way as Godric."
"I suppose you're right." Rowena rubbed at her eyes with the back of one hand. "But that's why... I've hardly slept in a week, Helga, and I do believe it's affecting me..."
"No sleep in a week? Well, good on Godric, then." Rowena didn't feel the slightest inclined to smile at that. Leaning forward again, Helga asked, in a hushed voice, "Does Salazar know it's been going on?"
"I don't know... I mean, it isn't as though I've felt compelled to tell him, but he can be so perceptive..."
Curious though she was, Helga retained a keen sense of when not to press an issue, and left off her questioning, turning conversation instead to her development of the school gardens. "The trouble, of course, will be keeping it warm enough for the tropical plants I'd like to bring up. Oh, I know it may be a while before we can take such luxuries, but one must always have a goal to aim at, and deuce if I can sort it out."
Rowena, who had not so much eaten her bread as reduced to a large pile of crumbs, was about to respond, when a deep voice from behind her offered a solution. "There must be a way to cross a warming charm with some sort of boundary spell." Rowena nearly fell out of her chair at the sound of Salazar's voice; she'd been so carefully avoiding him as much as possible for days. "Or perhaps..." He stepped closer, leaning across her to reach for an apple. "Perhaps a repelling charm, but not against any person or thing, but rather against cold winds."
To her credit, Helga had no unusual reaction whatsoever, and nothing in her pleasant face would have suggested she had heard whisper of any scandal. "Do you know, Salazar, that might be just the thing. I'll have to experiment, at least. It isn't as though I lack for the time to test out new hypotheses."
"Glad to oblige, Helga," Salazar rumbled. And then his deep green eyes fixed on Rowena, too piercing beneath his dark lashes. "Rowena, my dear." Salazar's expression did not change in the slightest, as placid and detached as though he were still discussing the state of the gardens. "You look quite pale. Are you quite sure you're feeling well?"
Feeling even more blood drain out of her cheeks, Rowena nodded, feeling a knot turn itself over in her stomach. "Yes, Salazar. I'm fine."
"Hmm." He could see straight through to her soul, Rowena felt sure of it. Nothing escaped Salazar's notice. She couldn't imagine why he hadn't brought the matter up, challenged Godric to a duel, except that perhaps his cruel streak was making itself known, and he knew she would suffer more from his knowing silence than she would an outright confrontation. "Well, perhaps a brief nap would be in order," he suggested. "I know we would all hate to see you in anything less than top form." His emerald-coloured cloak snapped as he turned to the door. "And one should never underestimate the restorative power of sleep."
Rowena listened to his footsteps echo down the hallway, and did not look back at Helga until she heard them descend a staircase. Then she looked at her friend, misery etching lines into her beautiful face. "Yes, Helga. I think he knows." With an exhausted sigh, Rowena dropped her head, dragging her fingers through her wealth of dark curls. "It has to end. It... I must put a stop to it."
Day/Theme: 21 August - Nights drenched in passion’s colour
Series: Harry Potter
Character/Pairing: Rowena/Godric, implied Rowena/Salazar
Rating: PG13 (non-explicit sexuality)
Word Count: 1550
Rowena's fingers were still tangled in Godric's bright copper hair as she wrenched her mouth away from his, moaning, "No, no, Godric, this is not wise, not at all..."
"Forget wise." Godric inhaled the gentle scent of her hair, before pressing a line of kisses to her throat. "For once in your life, Ro, put your damned brain to rest and just let yourself feel something!"
Rowena whimpered, unable to resist the utter onslaught of emotion with which Godric overwhelmed her, awakening parts of herself that she tried so hard to keep locked down. 'I cannot let myself... I was warned... strong of mind and weak of heart... I cannot...' But his hands were around her waist, holding her fast, and his lips captured hers again, swift and possessive, and Rowena lost all strength to resist. The call of her body, imploring her to yield, became too insistent, too enthralling.
The surrender felt like an explosion, white light blinding her, her blood thrumming so loudly in her ears that it blocked out the rest of the world for one brief moment. And when she returned to herself, there was only Godric. No room, no half-built school, no one else in the world, nothing else in all of existence except for her body and his, no sound but his loving words whispered to her.
She didn't realise her knees had slackened beneath her until Godric lifted her up, her body so small and delicate in his powerful arms. She would never remember how she got to be naked, except that Godric had proceeded with reverent abandon, as though opening a much-desired package, eager and excited, but with near-worship in his eyes, and a touch that was no less ardent for its awareness of her tiny form and delicate bones.
Rowena clung to him till dawn, glorying in every second, in the intimate rhythm of their bodies. Godric made the most of his opportunity, all too aware that Rowena might never allow herself such a slip again. He brought her to the height of pleasure again and again, determined . Only in the break of morning did he finally weary, collapsing beside her, one muscled arm still thrown over her petite form.
Rowena was surprised to find she had slept at all. It seemed impossible, utterly bewildering, that with her blood still singing in excitement, her nerves still humming with energy, she could rest even for a short time. And when she woke, it was to find Godric with his head propped up on his arm, gazing thoughtfully at her. It made her blush; his eyes were too intense, too enraptured. "How can you do that?" she asked, when after a moment she found her voice.
"Do what?" he asked, reaching out to stroke her cheek.
"Look at me like that." She closed her eyes. "Like I'm... I don't know."
Swift but gentle, Godric slid an arm around Rowena and pulled her atop him. His hands drifted over her shoulders, down her arms, featherlight, and Rowena thought, not for the first time, that it should be impossible, that the solid Saxon warrior should prove himself so ferocious on the battlefield and so tender in the bedroom.
"Like you're the most precious creation under the sun?" he said, voice as low as the morning sun. "Like you're perfect and delicate and I can't believe my luck? Like I can't figure out what I did to be deserving of this?" Rowena closed her eyes against the guilt. Godric, misinterpreting, drew her down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "My very own faery princess. My very own angel."
After he left, Rowena went to her bronze mirror, frowning at the circles beneath her eyes, and at how pale she looked. 'Not again,' she thought, pinching colour into her cheeks. 'It cannot happen again...'
But Godric's eyes, smouldering with desire, followed her all day, and the touch of his hands haunted her, the memory of his fingers ghosting over her skin. And when night fell, she found herself waiting.
So it went, for a week.
Helga's bright blue eyes shot wide when Rowena slumped into her chair for breakfast. "You look a fright," she said, quite candidly.
"I haven't been sleeping," Rowena mumbled, reaching for the bread and a hunk of cheese.
"I profess that's hardly a surprise. Whatever are you working on, that's keeping you up so late?" Helga asked, with concern.
"It isn't... it isn't precisely like that."
Helga's pretty pink lips pressed into a line. "Ro, since when do you keep secrets about what you're working on? It's hardly fair, and we did all promise not to conduct any experiments without the-- oh!" Somewhere in the midst of the chastisement, an alternative reason for Rowena's pallor and drooping eyelids made itself known to Helga. "Ro. You haven't been--?"
Staring moodily down at her bread, Rowena nodded, very slowly.
"But-- Rowena, who?!" At a sharp look flinting out of the grey eyes, Helga had the good grace to blush, and amend, "I'm sorry, Ro, I didn't mean that the way it sounds, but... oh, it isn't a secret, really, that they both... so which one?"
Raising her eyes to her friend's face, Rowena drew a deep breath. 'If I can't tell her... well, there's really no one else, is there?' But her lips felt slightly dry. "Godric."
Helga did not gasp, or drop her jaw, or make any other sort of overt reaction, for which Rowena was grateful. But she did sit back, staring almost appraisingly at Rowena. "You know, I wouldn't have guessed that. I always assumed his honour would get the better of him." Rowena scowled. "Well! It isn't as though Salazar struggles with moral quandaries in quite the same way as Godric."
"I suppose you're right." Rowena rubbed at her eyes with the back of one hand. "But that's why... I've hardly slept in a week, Helga, and I do believe it's affecting me..."
"No sleep in a week? Well, good on Godric, then." Rowena didn't feel the slightest inclined to smile at that. Leaning forward again, Helga asked, in a hushed voice, "Does Salazar know it's been going on?"
"I don't know... I mean, it isn't as though I've felt compelled to tell him, but he can be so perceptive..."
Curious though she was, Helga retained a keen sense of when not to press an issue, and left off her questioning, turning conversation instead to her development of the school gardens. "The trouble, of course, will be keeping it warm enough for the tropical plants I'd like to bring up. Oh, I know it may be a while before we can take such luxuries, but one must always have a goal to aim at, and deuce if I can sort it out."
Rowena, who had not so much eaten her bread as reduced to a large pile of crumbs, was about to respond, when a deep voice from behind her offered a solution. "There must be a way to cross a warming charm with some sort of boundary spell." Rowena nearly fell out of her chair at the sound of Salazar's voice; she'd been so carefully avoiding him as much as possible for days. "Or perhaps..." He stepped closer, leaning across her to reach for an apple. "Perhaps a repelling charm, but not against any person or thing, but rather against cold winds."
To her credit, Helga had no unusual reaction whatsoever, and nothing in her pleasant face would have suggested she had heard whisper of any scandal. "Do you know, Salazar, that might be just the thing. I'll have to experiment, at least. It isn't as though I lack for the time to test out new hypotheses."
"Glad to oblige, Helga," Salazar rumbled. And then his deep green eyes fixed on Rowena, too piercing beneath his dark lashes. "Rowena, my dear." Salazar's expression did not change in the slightest, as placid and detached as though he were still discussing the state of the gardens. "You look quite pale. Are you quite sure you're feeling well?"
Feeling even more blood drain out of her cheeks, Rowena nodded, feeling a knot turn itself over in her stomach. "Yes, Salazar. I'm fine."
"Hmm." He could see straight through to her soul, Rowena felt sure of it. Nothing escaped Salazar's notice. She couldn't imagine why he hadn't brought the matter up, challenged Godric to a duel, except that perhaps his cruel streak was making itself known, and he knew she would suffer more from his knowing silence than she would an outright confrontation. "Well, perhaps a brief nap would be in order," he suggested. "I know we would all hate to see you in anything less than top form." His emerald-coloured cloak snapped as he turned to the door. "And one should never underestimate the restorative power of sleep."
Rowena listened to his footsteps echo down the hallway, and did not look back at Helga until she heard them descend a staircase. Then she looked at her friend, misery etching lines into her beautiful face. "Yes, Helga. I think he knows." With an exhausted sigh, Rowena dropped her head, dragging her fingers through her wealth of dark curls. "It has to end. It... I must put a stop to it."