Reversals and Recognitions

Chapter 8: Reversals and Recognitions

"Ouch."

Harmony limped into the room, favoring her right big toe.

"Don't kick the Deus, dear," said the editor, "unless you want it to recover from its coma. And it's likely to be angry."

"It called Severus a wuss," said Harmony.

"Yes. And then you pulled your wand on it, and we were all in for it."

"How did you know to hose it down?" asked Harmony.

"I didn't. I turned the fire hose on it because I couldn't think of anything else to do. It slipped on the wet floor and bumped its head. But that's the least of our worries. We have a story to continue."

"The boys have got us into a real pickle with the plot," said Harmony.

"Nothing a little writing talent can't get us out of," said the editor. "Get your tools, and let's brainstorm."

Harmony dashed to her office to fetch the flip chart and colored pencils.

The problem, neatly captured by several colored lines, was getting the story back on track whilst integrating the plot lines in a manner that was clear to the reader. The editor watched as the solid lines first became dashed and farther apart, but then slowly grew in thickness and strength until they converged at a solid purple hexagon.

Harmony grabbed her quill and parchment. "We'll show those caffeinated prats they aren't the only ones who can write adventure."

The editor nodded. "Short, terse sentences, dear. And remember, bring the story lines together."

Misako Ogami and the uber-pack of wolves, on their way to Runestone, slipped through Chief Sitting Riddle's territory as unobtrusively as a ghost gliding by a symposium of logical positivists.

I never could figure him out, thought Misako.

Several hundred miles to the south, things were returning to normal at The Horse and The Duck as the wounds healed and they all celebrated the arrival of a wagonload of bonded sherry.

Several thousand miles to the east, things were returning to normal.

"You're going to the masked ball of course," said Dumbledore, entering the lab after the last class had left.

His eyes twinkled like lemon drops dunked in cognac as he added, "Both the Black sisters should be full of spores by now – repeatably injected, we might say – performed with vigor and sacrifice made possible only from devotion to our cause by a hero dipping into the very pit of evil and exposing himself to seductive charms whose embrace ..."

"Sir," said Severus.

"Yes," said Dumbledore, "we mustn't get carried away. It is for the Black sisters to be carried away, satisfying the hungers of evil doers who would tear the garments of decency from our social fabric and pervert the body public with lusts that penetrate to the core of all we hold dear and, under the mask of a crusade, perform such unspeakable acts that ..."

"Okay, okay, I'll go," said Severus.

Dumbledore gave him an inquiring look.

"And take the Black sisters with me," added Severus.

Dumbledore gave him an entreating look.

"And I'll make a full and detailed report," finished Severus.

After the Headmaster had left, Severus turned to discover that Andromeda had heard everything.

"There's no need to tell me it's not what I think it is," she said. "Thank the gods I'm on the side of goodness and light."

"Quite," said Severus.

When Severus arrived at the Manor the evening of the masquerade ball, he expected the women to be either dressed in high-fashion outfits that made no sense or decked out as tarts whose behavior would be an embarrassment. Instead, they wore ensembles that flowed and brought out their class and mature femininity – brought it out to the point that no male could maintain decorum in their presence. Bloody indecent, that's what it is, he thought.

But Severus was familiar with the two Black sisters. An occasion that would awe most of the wizardry world was another event to them. He had seen the telltale signs, and he had his hand on his wand and ready when Narcissa tripped over a previously absent bump and was falling toward a mud puddle. He had her levitated and safe in an eye blink. He performed a numbing and soothing charm when Narcissa began smirking and Bellatrix began scratching her crotch as if it itched horribly. In the carriage, on their way to the ball, Severus sat between the two sisters.

When they arrived, Severus looked around the room converted to a dance hall. It was the ideal time to set the infection-plan into motion. He thought about the two Black sisters, their caution and defenses stripped away by the effects of the potion he could easily slip into their drinks. He imagined an eager group promising to provide Bellatrix with her favorite entertainment and, when she was secured, laying her flesh open to the bone. He imagined an enthusiastic gang luring Narcissa to a private place with offerings of admiration and dumping her, broken and bleeding, in a corner after they had used her. The spores would spread like leaves on an autumn lawn.

A young swain approached the table, bowed, and said, "I would be greatly honored if either of you lovely ladies would care for a dance."

Bellatrix and Narcissa looked at Severus.

"A gentlemanly and gracious offer," said Severus. "I'm heartened that good manners rule the evening, and I will not have to confront anyone about a lapse in courtesy."

The young swain blanched but held his ground. Narcissa stood and led him through a waltz. When she returned to her table, she and her sister watched the young man spread the word about Snape while Severus appeared not to notice anything.

Later, on his way to the punch bowl, Severus passed the Dark Lord who indicated he wished a word.

"Good performance, Severus," said the Dark Lord. "I can't say I agree with protecting grown women who should watch out for themselves, but overlooking the weak pretence, you did establish yourself among the gathering."

Severus acknowledged the compliment and proceeded to the refreshment table.

He was formulating his speech to Dumbledore.

"I don't know what went wrong, sir," he would say. "The two women were primed and ready to go, but no one approached them. I can only imagine that the more daring of the Dark Lord's servants have run afoul of their own bravery and those left are too intimidated to show initiative."

"Hmm," Dumbledore would say.

"I suppose it's my fault, sir," Severus would explain to Dumbledore. "I only used enough potion to make them receptive. More potion would have made them aggressive, but the behavior change would have likely triggered alarms. It's been a paranoid crowd since the last round of arrests. Nevertheless, I blame myself for the failure, sir."

"You did what you thought was best, Severus," Dumbledore would say. "It would have been foolish to act rashly and expose our stratagem. We'll have other opportunities."

Severus looked up from the punch bowl to see Bellatrix and Narcissa smiling at him from across the room. How do women do that?

They were two hypocrites each presenting herself as a dutiful wife pining for her absent husband while carrying on a sordid, kinky affair that was healing one powerful witch and keeping her from tormenting the populace and that was sustaining another powerful witch and letting her manage a source of capital for the benefit of the wizard world. They were prejudiced people supporting a program of hate whose cool reason and selfish concern for their own welfare were curbing the excesses and channeling the activities into good works with a future payoff of gratitude. They were cold and cruel aristocrats whose demanding emotional needs were nourishing his spirit and giving him a center of caring he had never enjoyed before. He would stomp them underfoot. But not so fast.

He brought their drinks and danced with them in turn. There was the full figure of Bellatrix with its athletic firmness and the lithe form of Narcissa with its inviting softness. They seemed even lovelier in their formal wear since he knew everything underneath the elegant gowns. They circulated among the other guests like two queens. He put it out of his mind that he did not even bring the potion that would induce their wanton behavior.

When the evening affair ended, Severus resumed his active role as chaperone. Contrary to chivalry, he entered the carriage first after directing the younger sister to the other side. He lent a helping hand as each sister entered, keeping himself between them.

On the return trip, he concluded he was right to postpone things. Bellatrix deserved another spanking for her crimes. Justice must be allowed to run its full course. Narciss deserved a penance of helping society prosper in payment for her past transgressions, and her penance could include the extra mile of expressing gratitude to a competent partner. Severus knew the quality of mercy must not be strained. And it needn't be rushed either. He was seeing himself in a new light: the dispenser of justice, mercy, and other delights of the human soul. Everyone should try hubris, he thought.

Severus felt the air crackle. "Up! Up! Grab your brooms!"

He kicked the door of the carriage open and the three tumbled out in disorganized flight. The carriage exploded in an orange ball as a curse hit it. From behind a concealing bush, a witch flung hexes at the Black sisters. Bellatrix screamed, and her right arm hung useless as blood soaked her sleeve. Narcissa groaned as her ribs cracked and the wind was knocked out of her. Severus roared in fury, and flung a wide area curse that knocked the ambushing witch off her feet. He looked up in time to see a huge bat descending upon him, and then he was engaged in a ferocious struggle to keep the vampire away from his throat.

Yelling Severus's name, Bellatrix flew behind the vampire and wrapped her good arm around its throat. The impact yanked her off her broom, and she and the vampire plummeted toward the ground as the vampire twisted and its teeth shredded her arm from the shoulder to the elbow. Severus dived after Bellatrix which saved him from a curse from an aerial wizard that would have incinerated him. Severus managed to grab Bellatrix, and the two stopped in mid-air, but she lost her grip on the vampire which bounced once on the ground before springing back into action. It went for Severus while ignoring Bellatrix, never a good idea. She leaped on its back and drove her wand into its heart.

Meanwhile, after Severus's spell had flung the attacking witch away from the concealing bush, Narcissa spotted her and aimed a flurry of hexes. One lucky curse tore the ambusher's shoulder open and sent her wand flying into the night, and another struck her in the hip, taking her down. She began crawling away, leaving a trail of blood. Narcissa was running to join Severus and her sister when a curse from the aerial wizard knocked her into the ditch and broke her arm. Narcissa used her good arm to pull herself out of the ditch, and the three hurled spells at the aerial wizard.

Seeing that his partner was going to survive and deciding it was better to appear heroic, Biff swooped down, grabbed Hermione and her wand, and flew to the store where he patched her wounds and selected the healing potions.

A few moments after Bellatrix, Narcissa, and Severus arrived at the Manor, the sisters summoned two medical wizards.

When the medical wizards left, Bellatrix asked, "Who was that?"

No one knew.

By various small signs, it was obvious that the two witches did not want to separate for the evening and they expected Severus to stay with them. "We'll heal better." They checked the wards and alarms and ensconced themselves under the covers. He gave a small start at their icy toes, but they snuggled until their cold feet were wrapped around his and becoming toasty warm.

As the feet go, so goes the heart.

The two warm-hearted sisters spent the week refining and expanding his inventory spell. When he reappeared Friday evening, they pestered him to block out more spells for them. They had a number of ideas but were waiting for his visualization and organizational skills.

"Why are you even bothering, Bella?" asked Narcissa as her sister worked on a new enchantment.

"Come on, Cissy, don't you want to be a little evil?"

"This is pointless. Okay, so the lending establishments adopt this bookkeeping spell, and every time an interest payment is made and there's a fraction of a knut, the spell rounds up for the borrower, rounds down for the lender, and the knut drops into our account."

"Isn't that clever? It was in a book Severus brought me."

"It's a good scheme for the non-wizard world where they handle millions of transactions a day. What will it get us, a galleon a day, two galleons a day? You spend more than that on a bottle of wine."

"Oh, Cissy, you've lost the thrill of the chase."

In the following weeks, Severus earned some respite by supplying them with new volumes from the bookstore. Narcissa immersed herself in Thucydides while Bellatrix devoured the Icelandic Sagas. Severus concluded that both women were fascinated by reluctant heroes borne to their doom by social forces beyond their control.

The editor was proud of their action sequence. She wanted to show it to Biff, and she wished Biff would get over his current ultra-dedicated phase. It was great he was writing like a fiend, but a missed deadline could be taken in stride. Her imagination soared as she invented wicked schemes that would cause a dedicated man to share the cappuccino machine and miss a deadline. Miss a deadline!? She was checking her pulse when she heard a commotion in the hall.

"It's the Deus," cried the editor. "Come on, Harmony, we can't let it hurt Biff and Snorri."

Harmony was thinking that's why they conjured it, but now was not the time to argue. The two witches stood in its path, gripped their wands, and hurled the spells they had practiced.

"Percolator!"

"Artificial Whitener!!"

Blue sparks sprang from the monster's fingertips. "Your artheth are grath."

"Thod off," yelled Harmony, "I mean ..."

There was an ominous rumbling.

The two flung their final curses with every fiber of their being.

"Instant Coffee!"

"Freeze! Dried!! Crystals!!!"

There was a final "Crack!" as the floor under Deus Ex Machina Caffeinarum exploded and left a hole with charred-wood edges.

"I had forgotten there was a basement," said the editor, rushing to the opening and looking in. "Do you think that's where the boys hid the cappuccino machine?"

"What about Deus?" asked Harmony.

"Oh, right," said the editor, looking again. "Nope, no sign of it either."

Several rooms away from the smoking hole, Snorri looked up from the manuscript that Biff had just filched from the editor's office. "Did you hear something?"

"Naw, keep writing."

Snorri returned to the narrative. "We'll show those daft bints they aren't the only ones who can write romantic mush."

Biff nodded. "Remember, old bean, long, flowery sentences."

Even though some moments in life are awkward and are painful to live through, think what a strain depicting these events must be for the author who has reached such a critical point in the ongoing saga and who must now struggle to present the scene in a way that the reader feels every tense moment and thought of the characters but in a manner that the text flows smoothly enough that one is propelled through the crisis in an exhilarating rush that lifts the spirit, and it is in this spirit that the narrator can only ask for the readers' sympathetic understanding for what follows since by fickle fortune, the joy and burden of writing this episode has fallen upon poor little me.

It is well-known that reconciliation is most efficacious when it occurs by accident since if one party enters into it deliberately, the elaborate constructions and arguments that have accumulated in the mind, not to mention the distraction of determination, leave the well-intentioned party less able to respond effectively to the opportunities of the moment and to the entreaties of the other party who is often desperate to present their side of the story with the expectation that, once they are understood, it will be realized that no harm was intended and all their acts were justified to the extent that any misunderstanding was merely a temporary rent in the fabric of the relationship, and it is with this knowledge in full display that the next train of events unfolds.

It was in an agitated state of mine that Padma entered the bookstore early on a Sunday afternoon, carrying her briefcase full of school texts both as an excuse for not studying in her dorm and as a symbolic shield that gave her an object upon which to focus during any strained social moment and, with heart pounding, acknowledging the greeting from Biff who was behind the counter as she proceeded to the stacks where she pretended to pick out several relevant volumes which she carried to the table and chairs that cried out to her to sit before her knees gave out from nervousness and where she deposited the chosen volumes in a heap before she retrieved a textbook from her briefcase and tried hard to concentrate on it while she worried about the propriety of her current actions to the point that she was startled when Biff appeared to offer her a cup of tea which she accepted with such a show of gratitude that he nodded and smiled in return which only caused her heart to beat faster and made it even more difficult to extract anything from the jumble of words that comprised her assignment, and it was in this anxious frame of mind that she gulped down the offered cup and several more before she experienced the inevitable physiological consequences of consuming copious amounts of tea and then experienced the embarrassment of asking directions to the necessary to which she retired certain that her actions had ruined all her chances.

She returned and plunked down in a blue funk comprehensible only to those privy to the depths of emotion that run through seemingly abstracted intellectuals, but while she was staring out in the window in despair, Biff arrived with a pot of tea and a plate of biscuits, announced that he needed a break, and asked if he could join her, a request to which she managed to nod yes, whereupon he poured the tea and commented on her studiousness, and this interest prompted her to say that it was not possible to study at school since it was all abuzz with the rumors of an attack the previous evening that included an exploded carriage and, some asserted, involved a professor to which he agreed that rumors could be wild and it was best to wait for confirmation, but in the meantime, perhaps she could quiet her mind for the arduous academic week ahead by some light reading that was appropriate for these troublesome times since the novel he had in mind was about some infamous army that had been written in a turbulent period when her countrymen could profit from being reminded of past achievements made possible by courage and this novel was in the section of romances that could be rented, and when after reading the first several chapters, she wished to take a break she discovered that Biff had completed the day's bookkeeping and seemed eager to reminisce about the small events of their lives, and it was thus that several hours after she had arrived, Padma felt not only reconciled with the wizard that she held dear, but sought after by him since he had invited her to stop in often, offering the feeble excuse that people attract people and having her in the store would encourage others to drop in.

"Writing this drek is hard if you're not an air-head," complained Snorri.

"I know," said Biff, picking up his quill. "Take a break for a while."

Unknown to the couple, the reconciliation was witnessed by Hermione Granger who had left her dorm to question Biff. She had participated in the ambush to capture the Snape simulacrum alive, but Biff had used deadly force, and he hadn't mentioned the vampire either.

After Padma left, Hermione watched Biff start to put away the teacups. Hermione was debating whether or not this would be a good time to confront him when Biff stopped to listen. It seemed someone was knocking on the bookstore door. When Biff opened it, Padma flung herself into his arms. She was clutching him and crying. He recovered enough to hold her.

She was giving him a melancholy, pleading look. He kissed her on the tip of her nose. His lips caressed her face before moving to her lips where she responded shyly and then gladly and finally with devouring enthusiasm. She began to weave in his embrace.

Hermione watched Padma's knees buckle and saw her slowly slide to the floor. She watched Padma pull Biff down with her. They were lying side by side with her arms around him and his lips flowing over her face and neck. His hand moved from her waist to cup a blouse-covered mound. Padma made a feeble effort to move the hand fondling her breast, but after a few seconds, she was arching her back to press both breasts into him. He was nuzzling the inviting mounds. He began unbuttoning her blouse. Once again, she made a feeble effort to stop him, but he continued, and her hands dropped to her side. When he kissed the skin above her bra and then moved to the covered nipples, she sighed, and her arms went around him. She was shaking her head no as he unfastened her top garment and her full and lovely breasts fell out. Hermione watched Padma sigh and tilt her head back as his lips tended the dark peaks.

Biff's lips moved from one erect nipple to its sister as his hand traveled from her breast to her waist and then across her skirt, gripping her hips and feeling the shape of her legs. When his hand slipped under her skirt, Padma pressed her legs together and raised her knees. Her hand went to stop his, but he shifted to kissing her legs just above her knees. His lips and tongue grazed the top of her thighs as her skirt fell away to expose more golden skin. Padma's impeding hand dropped to the floor, and her knees parted as Biff enjoyed his way up her inner thighs. Hermione watched his eyes feast on his lady's charms.

Biff was lying beside Padma and assuring her of her loveliness and his devotion as his hand again and again played it way up her legs and across the smooth fabric covering her sex. When the motions of her body began to reciprocate, he took her hand and placed it on the bulge in his trousers. She pulled it away, but he spoke more encouraging words and moved it back to hold it there. Hermione watched Padma's eyes turn shiny and her hand explore the fascinating shape.

Biff produced his wand and placed it on the inside of Padma's knee. Hermione was thinking it must be vibrating because Padma gasped as the instrument moved from one leg to another on its delicious way to her center. Padma's face displayed more and more pleasure as the wand repeated the journey. Padma's head tilted back and her mouth opened to make a sound Hermione was glad she couldn't hear as the wand settled in the cotton-covered crevice. Hermione watched the pleasure spread through Padma's whole being. Padma was holding her wizard and rolling her hips as his wand had its way with her. Rolling her hips became a whole-body squirm. More and more intense. Hermione saw Pafma's face turn feral. Padma became rigid as her thighs squeezed together.

Biff was talking to a lush golden-skinned girl, running his fingers through thick raven hair and persuading her until she nodded in agreement. Padma reached down, raised her hips, and removed her knickers to reveal a wild bush of curly black hair. Biff was in position with his hands on top of hers. Something more wonderful than a wand parted the tawny folds of the doe-eyed girl. Padma's face became soft. The interconnected bodies moved together.

Hermione saw Padma's look of acceptance as Biff's sperm swam through her.

As they left, Biff held Padma for a loving embrace before taking her hand and escorting her back to the castle.

"Great action scene," said Biff as the editor seated herself at his table.

She thought the day had gone rather well and had decided to treat herself to a sherry at a pub that featured live music. When she walked in, she had spotted Biff, and almost involuntarily, she had walked over to him.

"Thanks," she said, reaching to hold his hand. As she sipped her sherry, she thought about telling him that he and Snorri had done a wonderful job of getting Hermione away from Biff and ready to partner with Severus, but the text had left her a bit shy. She recalled their encounter several days ago when she had cried the first time she had sat in Biff's lap. She had been feeling embarrassed, but Biff had remembered and had given it a beautiful treatment in the Padma narrative. Now, holding hands with Biff made her breasts feel tingly.

"That Wild West chapter may have lost us some readers, but it's outrageous enough that no one can claim we're copying some secret document," said Biff.

They relaxed, feeling safe for the first time in several weeks. The editor told Biff about her adventures with Harmony and the colored pencils. Biff commented that they still had a muse getting impatient for a dramatic revenge climax. They listened to the music and enjoyed each others' company. They did not notice the dark stranger walk in and seat himself behind them.

"Don't look behind you," they heard someone say.

They froze. "You two really take chances," they heard.

"We have no secret manuscript," said Biff.

"Then how do you explain the Wild West episode? No one would write that if they didn't know the secret history," said the voice. There was a pause before the hidden stranger said, "I hope whatever you're getting out of this is worth what it's going to cost you."

They heard the scraping of a chair and a rustle as the stranger left by the back door.

"Oh, Biff," said the editor.

He was lost in thought. He finally said, "Wild West, Americans, wolves, Indians."

"And vampires," she added. When he looked puzzled, she said, "They've appeared several times, and Snorri did write like a Slav."

"We'll figure it out," said Biff, "but I keep thinking we're overlooking an obvious clue, something important."