The Lower Woods

Chapter 8: The Lower Woods

"We're going to have to shoot up," Hermione announced. "At the spiders," she added. Everyone nodded agreement. For some reason, that made it seem harder.

Between the triangular meadow to the east and rectangular grassland to the west, lay an irregular quadrilateral of woods. It was about three miles wide on the north side bounded by the river. It was about seven miles wide on the south side bounded by the old forest, and this boundary had been the site of skirmishes between the spiders and centaurs for decades. The wooded area was divided into upper and lower parts by a limestone outcropping one-hundred yards wide that ran almost east-to-west. A stream flowing into the river formed a boundary between the woods and the meadow. The spiders in the woods were ambush predators that used webs in the trees and bushes. It would be a bow-and-arrow day.

In their favor, the trees in the woods were not as dense or tall as the trees in the forest. The tops of the trees were within bow-and-arrow range, and the spiders, while hard to spot, would not be completely hidden by foliage. Also in their favor, they could use the limestone outcropping as a natural boundary. They would have preferred to have begun at the limestone and pushed the spiders south into the centaur herd waiting in the forest, but that would stretch the skirmish line as the battle progressed, making it difficult to keep an unbroken line. They would begin at the seven mile boundary of woods and forest and push north to the five mile long outcropping of limestone. Moving north also meant not aiming into the sun. Repeated flyovers had estimated seventy two spiders in the lower woods.

"My arms are about to fall off," Draco whispered to Bellatrix after the team had dispatched the sixth spider.

The first day had taught them the effectiveness of spears, especially in the hands of a witch between a spider and her wizard. The men took turns with the bows while the women guarded the archers. The seventy-five mature centaurs able to fight the second day had split into fifteen groups of five each and had copied the tactic. Each group had three spearmen and two archers.

"Nonsense," said Bellatrix. "You used your short arm more than this last night, and it didn't fall off."

Draco felt renewed energy.

After the second spider, Severus had said, "We're going to run out of arrows."

Narcissa had thought a bit of subtle, wand-less magic was in order. Now, at the end of their flight, the arrows appeared to catch a breeze that returned them unharmed to the ground in front of them. When Severus had given her a suspicious look, she had idly remarked that it would be a shame if the men ran out of ammunition. "A thousand bow shots and a thousand love shots make the true wizard."

The spiders were becoming more difficult to kill. The shrieks of the initial casualties had alerted the rest. And some were escaping. Clearing the upper woods was going to be deadly. Once again, Lucius and Severus wished they had been able to begin at the limestone boundary and drive the spiders south, but they dared not risk a break in the line: it was essential that the sectors be completely cleared of spiders and established as centaur domain. Behind the skirmish line, the young bucks had formed into three groups each under the control of an Auntie, and they patrolled for any missed spiders.

The witches and wizards were responsible for the eastern strip that paralleled the stream. It was four miles long, but since they were less mobile than the centaurs, their corridor was only a quarter of a mile wide. The proximity of the stream, however, made this strip a rich hunting ground, and five hours later, when they arrived at the limestone boundary, they had eliminated nine spiders.

They were dead tired, but they would clear the upper woods tomorrow and the grassland the next day. Everyone had agreed they should conduct a continuous campaign before the spiders could react.

The humans retired to the Manor and let the centaurs patrol the newly won territory, nervous centaurs that might shoot at anything that wasn't a centaur.

Back at the Manor in the hot tub with Bellatrix and Narcissa, Hermione was fretting. What if Lucius bathed quickly and left with Severus? What if he had an appointment with some mistress this afternoon? She washed, hopped out of the tub, and left to search the Manor.

"I think our young friend is anxious," said Bellatrix.

"She's afraid Lucius will wander off without her."

"We know that wizards will wander off without us, but there's nothing we can do about it."

"We may as well enjoy our hot tub."

"If they're still here, it's a pleasant surprise."

Hermione raced to the study to find it empty. Her heart sank. He had abandoned her. Hoping against hope, she dashed to the door outside the hot-tub room for the wizards. She strained. Could she hear all three of them? Were they laughing while she was waiting in anguish? Heartless. But she thought she could hear all three of them. She dashed back to the study. She pretended to read a magazine. Perhaps he wouldn't come to the study. Perhaps he wouldn't even look for her. She jumped to her feet when he walked through the door.

"Did you want to make some more explosive arrow heads?" she blurted out.

He gave a small start. "Um, sure."

"Maybe you don't want to do that. Maybe you want to do something else? Do we have too many of them already?" she asked.

He shook his head, remembering the lessons of artillery history. "We haven't used them yet, but when we do, we will use them at a prodigious rate," he said.

He came back to the moment, and his senses took in the radiant young witch. "Let me relax a moment and cool down from the bath," he said. "You're right about the arrow heads, and we should use what energy we have left to produce another batch."

He collapsed in a reclining chair, and she sat on the floor beside him.

"But we need to be both relaxed and alert while we make them," he said. "Can I offer you a massage before we have lunch?"

"Okay," she said.

He snapped his fingers, and a clean quilt appeared. She stretched across it while his hands began at her neck and slowly worked their way down her back. Her nipples and sex responded and pressed against the expensive lace garments she had purchased the week before. They were designed to have a short shelf-life. She had wild and satisfying fantasies about getting her money's worth as Lucius fulfilled the designer's intentions.

But she didn't.

Back at the hot tub with Bellatrix and Narcissa, Bellatrix stepped out of the tub and made an effort to dry slowly. She walked sedately to her room where she put on a modest skirt and blouse. She twirled in front of the mirror, tried a more revealing blouse, went back to the original modest one, considered a shorter skirt, rejected it in favor of the one that flattered her hips, and made her way – calmly made her way, she told herself – to Draco's room.

A sharp pain shot through her when she entered and saw him standing in the middle of the floor in his boxers. She was across the room and in his arms. She was clutching him and kissing him and telling him how handsome he was. He held her and stroked her hair until she calmed down enough to merely have him in a tight clench.

Romance isn't all hearts and flowers, thought Bellatrix.

"You're tense," he said. "It's those bloody spiders lurking in the trees. Let me give you a back rub."

"Okay," she said.

He led her to the bed. She stretched across it while his hands began at her neck and slowly worked their way down her back. Her nipples hardened. Her silk undergarment was tight across the best spot. She had wild and satisfying fantasies about the specially chosen garments having a short shelf-life.

And they did.

He leaned down and kissed her cheek. She took his hand, kissed it, and smiled at him. She parted her legs and scooched down the bed to raise her skirt, revealing her silk-accented roundness and her damp readiness. She felt him between her splayed legs. His cock must have fallen out of his boxers because she felt its tip move up her inner thigh. Oh my. It moved up her other thigh. He was caressing her with his cock. The next time it stroked its way up her sensitive skin, it glided across the damp fabric covering her sex – oh yes – and then traced its way on the silk stretched over the cleft of her derriere. Yes, yes. It seemed to vibrate as it moved over the tightly stretched garment. He did it all again – teasing her with what he could give her.

He nibbled on her neck and whispered in her ear, "My, aren't you lovely."

It was going to be fun with Draco.

She rolled over, tore her modest blouse open, and unfastened her bra. She pulled his head down to the valley between her mounds. Oh, his lips on her. It could go on and on, but the ache became too great.

"Take me. Take me, sweetheart."

The wildness in his eyes as he pulled her knickers off absorbed the wildness of her soul. The heat in his eyes as he sank into hers burned away the craziness of her being.

She was mounted – a lovely, sane woman mounted by her lover.

Well, almost sane. His wild driving in and out of her broke through her rational defenses and drove all reason out of her – sloppy wet pounding mixed with the animal sounds of a mature woman in rut – generating enough heat in the pit of her being to drive her crazy – driving her undulating in mindless copulation until she lost control and a strange peace spread through her.

Well, certainly lovely as she lay flushed and sweaty and panting – making the low moans of a lady whose lover was moving in and out of her as he savored the look and feel of her. He was dipping into her, enjoying having her. He was moving with greater and greater urgency. He couldn't stop. She was glad he couldn't stop. She felt complete when he uttered a soundless cry and mated.

She held her chosen wizard.

Meanwhile, back at the dungeon, Narcissa insisted Severus take his shower while she fixed tea.

"Oh, Severus," she said, entering as he finished drying and dropping to her knees to take his cock in her deft fingers that soon had it growing. Her eyes were shining as her lips engulfed him and her tongue did wondrous things.

His lady tending him was a lovely sight. He stroked her hair as her head bobbed and weaved and his tension grew.

"Sweetheart, I ... ," he began.

His wet cock felt the cool air as his lady shifted to running her tongue along his shaft while her fingers played an enticing rhythm, but he was past the breaking point, and they watched him spurt across the room.

She was on her feet, embracing him and whispering endearments. She had pleasured her wizard. He could do no more than hold her and stroke her hair. When he had recovered, she told him that tea was ready for him in the living room. His practical lady took out the wand she had remembered to bring and waved it to clean the shower room. She ran warm water over a washcloth, cleaned and dried his member, and said she would join him after her shower.

"Really join you. Don't get dressed," she said.

He was sipping tea in his dining area, alternating between elation that she meant what she had said and despair that he could lose something so precious to him, when she entered.

At first, she looked disappointed since he had dressed. Then she noticed how he had dressed: a simple white shirt left unbuttoned and black boxers – provocative. Just for her. She approved.

She smiled at him and sat in his lap. The small moves of her derriere and thighs as she finished drying her hair were rather nice. That and the elegant lines of her face were rather giving him an erection. The elegant lines of her face evinced the sweet melancholy of romance as she softly embraced and nuzzled him while he accepted the affection that she seemed eager to offer. As it slowly entered his mind that she wanted this, he returned her embrace, stroked her hair, and made soothing noises. He could feel her relax as he returned her tenderness. Why hadn't he noticed this woman before? Why had it never occurred to him how much he cared for her?

He could feel her relaxed state begin to tense and coil as affection was joined by passion and her cuddling was becoming an aroused stirring. He told himself that it was okay to relax some of his self control, to run his hands over her, to run his hands over all of her. All of her was acceptable to him. No part of her should be missed. There was no reason to deny himself any part of her, any part of her wondrous body. And the best part was that she liked it.

She was straddling him. Her hand reached down and guided him into her. Entering her was the best thing ever. He moaned with her. She was moaning. He loved the sound. His desire for her. The feel of her. Her small sounds. He was certain he couldn't last, but the recent oral sex had him holding out well.

Crafty Narcissa, he thought.

Crafty Narcissa was in full glory: eyes shining adoration; face radiating desire; voice whimpering need; body joining his. Severus could leave content if the universe chose this moment to vanish. But it got better. Her face contorted. She gripped him. There were measured moves with soft whimpering. There was a small squeal. He felt her breath, her heart, her ripple. Her fine skin was slightly flushed. He was thinking the experience hadn't been very intense for her, but he hoped it had been satisfying.

As he held her, he became aware of a stinging, wet sensation in his back. He removed his shirt to discover small, crescent-shaped holes – bloody, small, crescent-shaped holes. Perhaps her experience had been more intense than he first thought.

"I've got to be more careful," she said with less remorse than one might think.

They took out their wands. She repaired his back while he removed the blood from his shirt. He tossed it in the laundry heap. She asked if he wasn't going to throw it away since she could buy him a new one, but he shook his head no.

She tapped her bare foot. "My husband is not going around with holes in his shirt."

'Charming' is the word, thought Severus as he admired his mistress, messy and disheveled from sex, laying down the law.

"Well, he's not," she asserted.

"I want to save it for special occasions," he said.

"The anniversary of our first shag?" she asked. "I didn't know you were such a romantic. Just how difficult are you going to be to live with?"

He wanted to say, "You should have thought of that before you invited yourself over, and I'm not your husband," but something told him that would not improve her mood.

Instead, he stepped closer and whispered, "Very difficult. I'm a secret romantic, the worst kind. I'll always be surreptitiously admiring you." He stepped very close. "And lusting after you." He put his hands on her waist and nuzzled her neck.

"That's not fair, Sevvie."

"If I played fair, I wouldn't have a chance," he replied. "My only hope is that my aristocratic lady has a soft spot for me."

"Right now, her soft spot is all hopeful," said Narcissa.

"Is it getting more hopeful?" he asked as his lips moved to the other side of her neck.

"I think so," she sighed.

She walked him to their bed where she stretched out and pulled him on top of her as she parted her legs. He entered easily. He could feel the pads of her fingers on his back as she was deliberately more careful this time. He wanted her passion again, but the whole feel of her was too much, and he let himself sink into everything she was offering. Her expression was the peace and harmony of getting what she wanted. He couldn't help himself. It rose within him. He let himself enjoy his lady. It was the first time. He wanted many more.

They were showered again and on the sofa when she said, "The spider campaign is probably playing merry hell with your pre-term prep."

"I can stumble through," he said.

"But isn't there a lot to do," she asked.

"I have to check the supplies, inspect the equipment, and ..," he began before he noticed her disappointed look and continued, "but you're right, it is a lot, and time is short."

She brightened. "Perhaps I can help."

"It's all in my head," he began again, but she had leaped up and fetched parchment and quill.

She was the very model of efficiency as he dictated the necessary preparations and lists of supplies. The contrast of intellect and passion amused him. Life was going to be interesting.

Later that night, with her snuggled around him, he wondered what his passionate helpmate was thinking.

"If you insist on keeping that shirt, let me mend the holes," she said.