Chapter 21

Chapter 21

The editor had arrived that morning to find Biff snoring at his desk. There were enough coffee cups scattered around that she was surprised he was sleeping instead of ranting and raving incoherently about this lousy story that would never end. She gathered up the episodes he had written and took them to her office.

"I broke my own rules: only married women; only one at a time," said Alain.

"I thought you were making both of them happy," said Adolf.

"That makes leaving them even harder. You can't imagine the pent up passion in those two," said Alain, "but that only gives me a window of opportunity, a chance to escape with a whole skin."

"How do you plan to do it?" asked Adolf.

"There're two farmers in Southern England who have hired me: one for an irrigation ditch and another to build a pond. I'll tell the girls I'm off on a job," said Alain. "When I finish, I'll return to Germany. I travel light."

"You're not going to say farewell?" asked Adolf.

"That's painful, but two sisters, my man. What was I thinking? Well, I wasn't, and I have to pay the price."

"What about Theo Nott?" asked Adolf.

"I gave him instructions on meeting me in Germany. I swore him to secrecy, wizard's oath, on the grounds that a number of people considered me a Dark Wizard, and I couldn't have them tracking me."

"He agreed? What about his friends in England?"

"He'll miss his girlfriend, but she's the ambitious daughter of a prosperous clan. He knows he can't have a harmonious relationship with her and her family unless he's a success, and given the local hostility toward his family, this is his best hope."

"If he weren't brilliant, he'd be doomed," said Adolf.

"That's true of many of us as you well know," said Alain, "but as you well know, he wouldn't be in a pickle if he weren't brilliant."

The editor checked on Biff. Still asleep. She had to admit he looked cute, and she was lamenting that she was two years older. She shook her head. It must be the insidious influence of this story. Well, the solution was to leave Biff to his adventure yarns. She smiled as she recalled the times he had dashed into her office to relate some lunatic, climatic sequence he had just concocted.

Down in the dungeon, Adolf had returned again and again to the Five Stones. Even in her current muzzy state, Hermione was worried. She was afraid those black stones were an evil version of crystals. She was afraid they were calling to him, calling to him to bring them to life. Through the dark mists swirling through her mind, a shaft of light appeared: she had to save Adolf, save him from himself.

She found him in the middle of a room. His hands were moving over the Five Stones. There was a glow. Sparks were starting to fly. Thanking the gods that he wasn't using his wand, she threw a cloth over the stones.

His head snapped up, snarling his fury. Hermione stepped back. The red glints in his eyes were blazing infernos. He was going to scorch her where she stood. Hermione stepped forward. So be it.

Wild thoughts raced through her mind. A rational Tom Riddle who planned carefully, who didn't bother with torture, who efficiently eliminated those who stood in his way. Crystals around the school. The castle cracked in two and falling. She and her friends dead. She thought of Pansy who had left Adolf because he wasn't interested in wealth and power. "He's weak," Pansy had said. So be it.

Adolf had placed his hands on top of the cloth Hermione had thrown over the stones and was giving her a quizzical look.

He recognizes me, she thought. I'm going to live.

More wild thoughts. She remembered the question Adolf occasionally asked students about who was the King of Prussia while Haydn was writing his symphonies. The punch line was that they didn't know and they didn't care.

She took him by the hand and led him upstairs.

"We need to take a break," she said. "We need to get away for a while."

He was staring blankly into space.

"We can go together, but separately," she said. "I mean, we can travel together. What do you think of Cardiff? We can take the train. There're boat rides when we get there, and castles. We can walk around. There're tea shops."

He returned from wherever he was and said, "That might be a good idea, Hermione."

Okay, thought the editor, even buzzed out on caffeine, Biff can write an action sequence.

Adolf watched Cissy and Andy talk about Alain in Southern England and how they were certain he would thrive in Great Britain. He observed their bewilderment when they received his letter that he was in Germany. He watched them wait for another letter. The day came when they asked him if he knew where Alain was and when he would return. He saw their stricken look when he told them that he had no idea.

Adolf saw no hope of telling the two women that this was the other side of the coin. Alain was true to his art, and his art would serve him in return. Andy and Cissy need not fear that he was after their money because Alain believed that depending on them instead of his Crystals would be a betrayal of his Crystals: He would be tempted by an easier life and neglect the demands of his discipline. Andy and Cissy could trust Alain as they could no other because, ultimately, he could accept nothing from them.

The editor was biting her lip. Biff might not know shit about romance, but somehow, he knew heartbreak. Did that mean he was more familiar with romance than he wanted to be? She turned her attention to the last thing he had penned. Perhaps he had brought things to a conclusion; perhaps they could end this madness.

Adolf braced himself as he let Hermione into his flat. He knew what to expect.

"You haven't put your books away," she said.

She was re-shelving them as he waited for her to discover he hadn't sorted his socks. He heard her exclamation when she checked his bedroom for stray volumes. He entered to find her standing beside a pile of clothes.

"It's clean clothes," he said. "It's not laundry."

That did not seem to mollify her.

"I know what you're thinking," he said. "You might as well say it."

He put his hands on her waist. "Go ahead. Say it."

It was a quiet voice: "You need someone to take care of you."

"And you?" he asked.

"Me?"

"You need someone who cares for you," he said.

Hermione Granger had never thought of that.

Crookshanks had trotted behind as a dutiful familiar should. He had seen many things in the castle. One, unknown to most, was that little geek girls were the most selective about their partner. They were also the most heartbroken when it went wrong. Thus it was that when Hermione reached out to Adolf, Crookshanks had his claws crossed. He wasn't worried about his mistress's clumsiness. Both were too deep to let that concern them. It was their depth that bothered him. Ships could wreck on that bedrock. But Crookshanks was heartened: Adolf was welcoming all of Hermione's advances; he was treating her affection as a treasure.

Hermione was in front of a mirror. He let her see someone holding her and looking at her adoringly. He was running his fingers through her hair as if it was luxurious. He was telling her she was lovely. He was nibbling his way down her neck. He an aloof man. She an honored partner in public. He tending to her in private. Hermione's face softened, his fingertips over her skin convincing her she was the one for him.

His mistress was guiding Adolf's hands to her shirt buttons. Crookshanks knew his mistress wasn't the most curvaceous, but the wizard was telling her she was lovely. He was acting as if he found her pleasing. Very pleasing.

Crookshanks watched Adolf whisper something to his mistress. Crookshanks watched his mistress reach under her skirt and slide the innocent white garment over her hips and past her knees. Adolf whispered again. His mistress pulled Adolf to the bed where she fumbled to get his trousers open. Crookshanks had roamed the castle at night, and he had seen girls with boys, but now, his own mistress was spreading her legs.

Crookshanks' ears perked up at the mounting. How did she feel? Soft? Firm? Welcoming?

The sound of Hermione Granger: murmuring encouragement, sighing with pleasure, wet.

Crookshanks' nostrils flared at her love reek. Heady. She was whole-heartedly, happily enthusiastic. It was becoming more than pleasurable.

The look of Hermione Granger: wrapping her legs around her lover, pulling him in against her, getting more of her wizard, wiggling for him.

Hermione become a wild thing, her face contorting. Crookshanks' eyes gleamed as his mistress's thighs quivered. His fur bristled as he whiffed the tang of her orgasm.

Later, Crookshanks was on the kitchen table and watching Hermione make coffee. Slowly make coffee, pausing to dote on Adolf. Hermione didn't have to ask where he kept anything. It was all scattered on the counter instead of being properly put away. As she was bringing the pot to the table, however, she was deciding that a bit of clutter was charming. If his life were as precise as his mind, he would be impossible to live with. He was charming.

Crookshanks was lying between the coffee cups thinking that a juicy morsel was just the thing to complete the scene when Hermione, noticing his expectant expression and already acting like the mistress of the place, laid down the law. "No mice on the kitchen table."

Unexpectedly, she turned to Adolf and asked, "Right, dear?"

"Hmmm," he replied.

"What do you mean 'Hmmm,'?" asked Hermione. "You can't let your pet rule the household."

Weigh your actions, professor, thought Crookshanks. Let compassion be your scale.

Hermione was up and straddling Adolf. "You said you would take care of me and my cat. It's one of the things you whispered to me."

"Yes," he said, reaching up and stroking her hair. "I did."

She was sitting in his lap with her forehead touching his when she whispered, "We need you."

His kiss of acceptance was loving and gentle. Her return embrace was the same – and her second. Her third was a bit demanding. Then, her tongue was down his throat as her body remembered all the things he could do for her. Her breasts were pressing against him. She didn't care they weren't spectacular. They were hers, and she wanted him to have them.

Crookshanks, once again, crossed his claws as Hermione's affectionate caresses gradually turned more demanding. Adolf would take care of her, wouldn't he? Crookshanks' whiskers twitched as her affection became a grinding need: the little geek girl was humping the bulge in Adolf's trousers. Crookshanks was relieved when Adolf responded by telling Hermione she was his loving lady and guiding her hand downward. Oh, yes. She was on her knees, fumbling with the buttons of his trousers. She had him out. She was fondling him, kissing him.

Crookshanks' eyes bulged. So that's how my mistress looks with her lips around a cock.

She was inexperienced, clumsy. Adolf didn't care, did he? His lady was doing her best for him.

He did the right thing. He lifted her up and helped her shimmy out of her knickers. He held her hips and guided her down and told her she was beautiful. She was kissing him again – the deep, loving, thank-you kisses of Hermione Granger when her wizard slid inside her.

Crookshanks was thinking that his mistress would never ever shut up as Hermione gasped out pleasure and longing and instructions, but Adolf held Hermione and accepted everything she was. Her face, usually alive with intelligence, was soft with romance. Crookshanks was fascinated by the way the plump thighs of a not-very-beautiful, frizzy-haired girl were flexing and tensing as Adolf demanded his witch give herself to him.

Damn, thought Crookshanks. Take her.

So he did. Hermione losing control. Hermione wildly undulating for the one who was capturing her. She was his. Her pet's fur bristled as, once again, he whiffed the tang of her orgasm. Her pet watched her become flushed and limp as she bonded.

His mistress looked mellow enough to agree to anything, and hope blossomed in the feline breast. Don't listen to the bossy witch, thought Crookshanks. Fuck her brains out, and bring on the mice.

Strangely enough, Adolf had to convince Hermione that he really wanted her to stay the night.

"You'll have to put up with me in the morning," he said. "It's your fault for seducing me."

"You brought this on yourself," she replied.

That night, as she was cuddling around him and falling asleep, she let herself relax, she let herself hope.

The universe was a messed-up place, but maybe it could get one thing right.

The editor sighed and laid the manuscript to rest.

END