Minerva Gold and the Wand of Silver Pt. 11

She closed her eyes.

There was a single rule, at the core of her faith. Deep. Deep down. Protect life. That's how so many edicts and rules came back to. Protect life. Every religious rule she had could be cast by the wayside to save a single life - be it her own or someone else's. Martyrdom was a distinctly Christian affectation...and she had never before realized how much she would empathize with those Christians who got fed to lions. Preaching against the Roman Empire must have been roughly as survivable as a first year student trying to fight her way past a Watcher, and breaking free an ancient vampire from the prison cells.

She rubbed her shoulders. Her brow furrowed and she barely noticed the cold.

The vampire in the cells hadn't been the vampire that had caused the ruckus. That was what Harry had said. But how could any vampire know of Hexgramatica and not be related somehow to this situation. There was a piece of the puzzle she still missed. Minerva rubbed her fingers against her temple.

The door to the dueling room opened with a clunk and a creak. Minerva jerked her head up, shoving the Alotexis away in her pocket - but then she realized she had nothing to be afraid of if they didn't see the forbidden spell. She sprang to her feet and flicked her wand, dissolving the chair back into dirt beneath her as the door closed behind the robed figure who had stepped in. The figure turned and did a double taka.

Professor Stevenson, the head of House Glintfaire, looked at Minerva with such honest surprise it was almost funny. Her cat-ears twitched in surprise as Minerva gave her a thin smile.

"Apologies, Professor," she said. "I was practicing for my duel. Ahem." She felt a nervous flop in her belly as the Professor reached up and began to tug at her robes. She cast them aside, revealing what she wore beneath: A trim, tight black outfit that looked more suited for the dance hall than the dueling hall.

Beneath those robes...

Professor Stevenson hung the robes up and chuckled softly. Turning her back to Minerva, her tail swishing from side to side, she said: "You practice rather quietly for a would be duelist. I had no idea you were even in this room."

Minerva's eyes slid along those trim shoulders. Elegant back. Taut-

She jerked her eyes back up as Stevenson turned, her cat eyes glinting. "I-I was...not sure where to begin." Minerva stammered, sweat beading along the back of her neck. "I...I have a lot to think about."

"It has been a rather eventful few days," Stevenson said, her voice dry and faintly sarcastic. "I see you're afraid that I am going to upbraid you. Maybe even fix things so that my student wins? Hmm?" She arched an eyebrow at Minerva. Minerva shook her head. Professor Stevenson cocked her head to the side. "Cat got your tongue, girl? Spit it out."

"N-No, Professor," Minerva said, hurriedly. "It's just...complicated."

"No it's not," Professor Stevenson said, her voice firm. She lifted her chin, transfixing Minerva with her intent gaze. "Lift your wand."

Minerva blinked, but her hand was already drawing her wand from her pocket and holding it into what she hoped was an approximation of a dueling stance. She settled her feet - and then to her surprise, the Professor stepped into her reach, so that the tip of the wand pointed past her. She used one arm to brace Minerva's arm, then put her other onto the wrist, and quite suddenly, Minerva's wand was in her hand. "Keep your wand close to your chest. A close grip, thus." Stevenson said, holding her hand so. "You don't need to thrust it, you don't need to add strength or leverage. It is a casting implement, not a dagger. Again!" She tossed the wand back.

Minerva caught it and blushed. She had to focus on what Stevenson was saying. Not the feeling of the stronger, older woman's hands on her skin. Not the heat of her touch.

God, am I really like this around all girls now? Minerva thought glumly as she held her hand closer.

Stevenson nodded, then tried to take the wand again. This time, Minerva jerked back, and kept her wand tip pointed at the other woman's belly...for a few beats longer than before. Her wrist ached slightly as Stevenson stepped away, swishing MInerva's wand through the air like a sword. She showed her back, and in that outfit she wore...Minerva's heart raced as Stevenson let out a soft tssch. Her tail swayed from side to side: "Your grip is still weak, Sableknight. But it will do for a duel sinister."

She tossed the wand back. Minerva caught it. "Now, do you know the code?"

"N-No spells that directly influence the other wizard, and, uh, nothing that affects the ball. Er, the weapon," Minerva said, hastily correcting from football to dueling.

Stevenson arched a single eyebrow. Minerva's cheeks heated.

"There are three things you must keep in mind. The first is the terrain may be altered for attack and for defense. The second is that direct influence being disallowed does not mean that indirect influence is not allowed - choking fogs, stinging mists, illusions of yourself and others, all of these are permitted. And the third?" Stevenson's eyes met Minerva's eyes. "...are you quite all right?"

Minerva, who had been trying to not focus on the trim, athletic woman before her, shook her head. "No," she said. "I mean, yes, I-"

"Tell me, then, what is the matter?" Stevenson's words were...sharp, yet welcoming. It was the most curious sound that Minerva had ever heard. Stevenson must have seen something in Minerva's expression, for she sighed and explained. "Professor Ravenwood is not exactly the kind of House Head who will listen to her students woes. I..." She looked aside. "I...know...how much of a trial that the inquisition after your Trial Temporalus can be. I doubt that Ravenwood even so much as gave you a tender word and..." She actually flushed. "And, well, you may be a SIldanius, but you are still a student at Hexgramatica. So, speak. What is the matter?"

Minerva gulped. "I...uh, the vampire attack."

"Oh that," Stevenson said, rolling her eyes. "The whole school is in a tizzy just because Tweed can't remember his vampire lore - you never interrupt a feeding unless you want to get a vampire going after you."

Minerva opened her mouth, then closed it. "B-But the whole school was closed down!"

"I wasn't about to tell the Headmaster he was worrying over nothing when one of my students was involved," Stevenson said, her lip curling slightly. "But I swore that you were there."

Minerva realized that she was stepping near something dangerous. "I was there? I mean, I wouldn't admit to any such flagrant rules breaking around a professor, so..." She trailed off and risked a smile. Stevenson arched a single eyebrow, but despite her severe expression, amusement sparkled in her brilliant, cattish eyes. The torchlight glowed in them with such remarkable intensity.

"Quite," Stevenson said.

"But it wasn't that vampire I was concerned about," Minerva said, the words coming out slowly, her face locked onto Professor Stevenson. She was inching around the point...but damn it. Stevneson had as much as admitted that she had a vampire student. If her vampire student had caused the ruckus, and the headmaster didn't know about it, then...well, then Minerva had something she could tuck into her back pocket of Stevenson reacted poorly to what she had learned.

And there was something more...

Minerva wanted to know now how Stevenson would react to the vampire in the basement. She wanted to know how far, how deep, how true the rot was.

She had to know.

If she didn't know...she would go mad, she knew it .

"Ah," Stevenson said. Then, turning her head aside, she chuckled. "I always told Merlin that keeping such things here was asking for trouble."

"I do hear that Hexgramatica is quite safe," Minerva said.

"Yes,but this place isn't," Stevenson said. She snatched up her robes, casting them over her shoulders. "Come with me, Sableknight."

She turned and started off through the door. Minerva followed after. The turnings and corkscrewing corridors they went through were as dizzying and confusing as every passage through Hexgramatica, and each step made Minerva's stomach tighten more and more. They walked past a large painting of hunting hounds, but rather than continue, Professor Stevenson turned and simply walked into the painting. There was no ripple, no distortion - but between blinks, a severe looking woman with cat ears and tail had appeared in the copse of trees that overlooked the hounds. Minerva gaped at it, shook her head, whispered: "Right. Wizards."

Then she stepped forward, her eyes screwed up shut. She half expected to run into the wall - but instead, she stumbled forward and she felt the warmth of the sun on her face. Her eyes opened and she saw the hounds, barking and running about one another, while Professor Stevenson strode past them, heading for the copse of trees.

"Come along, keep up," she said, over her shoulder, as Minerva followed after, her shoes growing damp against the bright green grass.

"Where are we?" Minerva asked.

"Oh, you'd never dream I'd sleep in that drafty old gothic ruin?" Stevenson asked, her voice wry. "Nearly there." They stepped to the copse of trees and, through it, beyond the sight of what would be the painting's perspective, was a small and lovely looking cottage. The door opened as they walked towards it and to Minerva's surprise, she saw that the interior was rife with comforts: A bed, a small wireless set, a bubbling tea kettle, which seemed to have already been set upon the fire. It whistled cheerfully, and then lifted itself up into the air as if on invisible strings. As it bobbled upwards, alarmingly tilting from side to side, a pair of china cups came dancing from the cupboard and arranged themselves in the air to be poured in.

"Sit," Stevenson ordered and, perforce, Minerva sat and clapped her thighs together. The wooden table she sat had had the signs of much use - including a small etching of a heart on the wood: M + M sat within. Minerva jerked her eyes from the heart to Stevneson, who cast off her robes and let themselves be carried to a hook on the wall. She settled down and her fierce, fierce eyes bored into Minerva's. "How did you learn about the Bonapartist?"

Minerva gulped, then let everything spill from her lips. Well. Almost everything. "T-Then I...and my friend Kat, that is...that is, we, uh...we worked together and..." She saw something flash in Stevenson's eyes and Minerva's cheeks heated even more as she hurried along, continuing the story. Once she was finished, the cups set themselves down and Stevenson leaned slowly back in her chair. She tapped her wand above the cups and, without speaking a single word, sugar came dancing from the tip. She stirred the cup, slowly.

"So, you and Katarina Wolfe are...friends?" she asked.

"I-I did not think that was the most pertinent part of that story, but yes," Minerva said, her throat feeling dry.

The wand withdrew from the cup. A droplet of tea beaded along it. The sight of it made Minerva feel a strange excited thrill in her belly. Slowly, that wand tip lifted up...and then Stevenson placed the tip against her tongue. Her tongue curled up, licking the droplet off. She set the wand aside. Minerva's thighs tightened even more as her cheeks felt as if they had gone incandescent.

"Have you ever heard the tale of the dragon rider? It's an old wizard proverb," Stevenson said, her voice soft, her eyes piercing. "It is extremely dangerous for a wizard atop a dragon to dismount."

Minerva nodded.

"We inherited the Iron Duke's wreckage, as we inherited Haig's. Extraction is not a punishment we inflict anymore," she said, firmly. "But we cannot let her loose - can you imagine the damage such a woman could do, if given her freedom? Neither is it our place to kill her, is it?"

Minerva opened her mouth, then closed it, then...no. She couldn't keep it in.

"That's very fine. But, I note you continue to draw blood from her."

Stevenson did look aside. Her voice was quiet. "I've been voted down repeatedly on that point," she said, her voice edged. Minerva snorted, then took a drink from the tea. It was rich. Warm. She set the cup down and ducked her head forward.

"I...I don't know how to deal with this world!" She exclaimed. "It seems like every day, I find some new horror and new miracle and I can't tell if they're balancing out - or if they're just making me spin out like...like a plane with a wing shot off!" She slammed the cup down, her hands shaking. She jerked her head up, glaring at Stevenson. "A-And now you take me here and give me tea and offer me some kind words and some advice against your own student, but you didn't even try and protect me during that beastly inquisition!" Her hands shook more and her eyes blurred as Minerva felt the emotions of her entire stay in Hexgramatica boiling up and over. "You said I was not fit for Glintfaire and..."

"I misspoke," Stevenson said, her voice softer than Minerva expected.

Minerva blinked. The tears pricking at the edge of her eyes threatened to spill, to spill and run down her cheeks in a torrent. Stevenson sipped from her cup. Despite the drink, her voice was rougher than Mienrva expected.

"I lied," she said. "You can't be in House Glintfaire, and...and you shouldn't be here." She shook her head. "The vampire will remain in her cell, and I will continue to seek the end of her Extraction - to let her live out in what comfort I can manage. But you? You should go. This was a mistake." Her voice was choppy. Minerva's brow furrowed. She didn't know if she should feel hurt or relieved.

"Why?" she asked.

"Because I am the head of a house, and while I may not be the head of House Sildanius, I have ordered it," Stevenson said, pushing her chair back. Minerva started to stand as well. Their eyes met and that something flashed in Stevenson's eyes again.

"First, I want you to promise me you'll do more than just vote," Minerva said, quietly. "At least bring word to her-"

"And what, you silly girl?" Stevenson said, her voice even more edged. "Tell her that you are wishing the best for her? She's a beast. A monster. A monster we may have made, but a monster none the less. She...if..." She stepped around the table. Her hand went to Minerva's cheek. "If she was freed, and you were there, your best wishes, your attempts to free her, would slow her down for less..." Her thumb caressed along Minerva's lips, a shockingly intimate move. "...than a second..."

Minerva trembled.

Oh.

Oh.

That was why Stevenson didn't want her here.

Minerva's face felt quite hot and her belly tingled with butterflies.

"Think of something," she whispered. "We can't just say the world is one way and turn aside and pretend there is nothing to be done."

"Oh can't we?" Stevenson asked. Her hand slipped back to the nape of Minerva's neck. "You come into our world, and you just think you can fix everything."

"I can at least try," Minerva said, her voice fierce. Her eyes flashed. Daring her to...to...to what? To...

Oh I shouldn't be here, Minerva thought. Oh this is wrong. This is so wrong.

Then why was she so very...wet?

"I am a professor," Stevenson said, quietly. Her hand slid from her neck to her shoulderblades. Her palm spread. "I have responsibilities. And...and..." Her hand cupped the small of Minerva's back. Minerva stood perfectly still, feeling the strength in that palm, pressing against her through her top. "And you are my student..." she whispered, leaning forward. "You can't tell me what is to be done."

"Make me stop, then," Minerva whispered, her head spinning. The line of argument seemed quite far off.

The hand almost touched her, caressing a shadow.

Showing an almost...titanic effort of will, Stevenson drew her hand back. She brought her knuckles to her lips, not quite biting them. She turned aside, her voice quiet.

"Go," she said, her voice fierce. Harsh. "Get out of here, silly girl, before I do something we both regret. I..." She paused. "Don't make any mistakes with Katarina Wolfe. Understand? Dont."

Minerva, her knees almost knocking together,nodded. She didn't feel brave enough to open her mouth, to speak. She turned and she stepped outside. The door closed and she almost tripped over her own feet as she started away from the cottage - breaking into a run. She came to the exit of the painted world, stumbling blindly into the corridor. She barely knew where she was - but she knew where to find where she had to go. Minerva moved through darkness, her breath ragged, not sure if she should weep from sorrow, scream in frustration, or breathe in relief. She found the first landmark she needed - the bust of Arthur - and then took the turns she needed to go down and, at last, come to the entrance of House Sildanius.

The sitting room was quiet and dark, the fire long since put out.

Bellatrix snored when she slipped into her room.

Minerva crawled into bed, trembling. She bit her own knuckle to keep herself quiet as her hand snaked, moving as if it had its own imagination and will, along her belly. The hem of her skirts dimpled around her fingers and she shifted, fidgeted. She lifted a single thigh. Her cheeks burned as she slid her finger through her thatch of pubic hair and found her own clit. She was so needy that just touching herself nearly brought a mewl from her lips. She clapped her hand over her mouth, cheeks burning, heart hammering.

This is insane. Stop this. Control yourself, she thought.

Instead, her middle finger prodded the folds of her cunt.

"Ohgod... "She whispered past her mouth, unable to stop herself.

Bellatrix rolled in her bed, mumbling something in her sleep. Minerva couldn't even stop herself. She tried to freeze. Instead, her traitor finger thrust...crooked...plunged deep. She trembled and closed her eyes as she started to work her finger into her sex, grinding against her center of pleasure, her pointer finger crooking up to find her clit. She was too sensitive to touch it directly - she made small circles as her mind cast out flickering, shadowy images. Kat...Stevenson...Kat and Stevenson, Stevenson alone. Hands, caressing her. Squeezing her. Tightening around her throat.

You have been a very bad student, little witchling...

She closed her eyes tightly and added another finger.

She bit down on her hand. Pain and pleasure washed through her and she trembled such that the bed let out a squealing squeak. When the white waves passed, when her eyes were clear, when she was able to breathe and gasped quietly for air...she remained as still as a mouse, listening.

Bellatrix continued to snore.

And she was a day closer to death.

I need more training, Minerva thought.

And...

She realized, now.

She knew when Professor Stevenson went to practice her invocations, late at night. She knew which room she preferred to do it in.

It would be foolish. It would be...it would be...

She closed her eyes.

The day that followed was one that felt painfully slow. She moved through it on tiptoes, ready for the sword of Damocles over her head to drop. And yet, despite that, it seemed that almost no time had passed at all before she was once more in the practice room, standing in the chill.

The door opened.

In stepped Professor Stevenson. She shucked off her robes. Hung them on the hook.

And sighed.

She did not turn.

"Sableknight..."

"I have two days to learn to stand up against Leslie," Minerva said, her voice hesitant. Stevenson lifted her head, her tail twitching with agitation from side to side. Minerva could almost hear the rejection before it came. The words that spilled from her lip shocked...even her. "I'll do anything. For your help."