Sparks

The Slytherin Dungeons:

Katie sleepily snuggled against the source of warmth. It was late spring but it was quite cold in the morning. In fact, it was colder than usual this morning. Her eyes snapped open when she realized that she was sleeping on a warm and breathing pillow. Then Katie realized that she had slept the night with Marcus in the Slytherin dungeons. She had never done that before. She turned her head to look into Marcus's sleeping, relaxed face. She remembered why she had not wanted to leave him alone last night. She shifted closer to his warm frame under the covers and looked into his face pensively. Marcus had the Sight. He had told her, in the concealing darkness, about the 'incidents' as he called them.

The first time had been when he was five; he had seen his mother slip down the stairs. He had seen it happen in a pool of water in the garden of his grandparents' estate. He had tried to tell his grandmother about it but she had not understood what he was trying to tell her. She had comforted him and said that all he had was a bad dream. He had been frustrated and angry when she wouldn't believe him. Then when his mother had her accident, his grandmother had come looking for him with her face white. She asked him in a funny voice to tell her if he saw things happen in the water again.

The second time was when he saw the pub in the village near the estate burn down. He was playing near that pool of water again when he felt the urge to look into its depths. He could almost hear the people screaming because the images had been so vivid. Marcus had shivered as he told Katie that the images had terrified him. He had been only a small boy. He had went and hid in the stables. Hours later, his grandmother had found him, cold and huddling, in a stall with two of his father's Jack Russell terriers cuddled up against him. He haltingly told his grandmother what he saw and she had sent her most trusted house elf into the village to discretely warn of the fire. It had been no use. The Muggles were afraid of the manor inhabitants. The manor was full of witches, they said. So several days later, the pub had burnt down with several people still inside. Marcus found out a month later. His grandmother and mother had decided to keep the news away from him. He felt helpless and frightened by the visions so he decided to stay away from every form of divination he could.

Seers were rare. Most witches could see but only a true seer could see the future. The most famous seer of the last millennium had even been a Muggle born. His name had been Michel de Nostradame. Like all true seers, he was condemned to see the future and be unable to change it. Marcus did not want this fate. Most seers ended up driven mad by their visions. He wanted a normal life.

Katie had held him and listened to him tell her of his gift. She soothed his fears away as best she could. Katie was shaken by Marcus's reaction to telling her his secret. He was normally so confident but she could tell his visions scared him. Much later, long after she thought he had fallen asleep, his voice broke the silence.

"Do you know what I did one night?" asked Marcus wearily. "I went into the bathroom and filled the sink with water. You had just left me. I was so unhappy and desperate. I looked into the water wanting to see, for once in my life. I wanted to see my future."

"What did you see?" asked Katie apprehensively.

"I saw things that didn't make sense," said Marcus pensively. "At first, I saw her, Ekaterina. I didn't know it was her. At first, I thought it was you. It was the engagement dinner I saw. I know that now. But then, I thought I was seeing her as my wife. Then I saw other things. The visions came in a blur of color. I think you would think that I am mad if I tell you what I saw."

"Tell me," urged Katie. She wanted to share his burden. She heard the pain in his voice.

"I saw the Quidditch Pitch but it was changed into a maze," said Marcus with a dreamy note in his voice. If Katie could see his face, she was afraid she would also see that opaque look in his eyes. She clutched at his hand.

"I saw dragons," said Marcus thickly. "I saw a man with a strange face. I saw a beautiful girl with gilt yellow hair. And I saw Diggory. Every two seconds, I saw Cedric Diggory's face interspersed with flashes of these other things like dragons and golden eggs and a snake, a big long snake."

"What does it mean?" asked Katie as fear clenched at her heart.

"I don't know," said Marcus quietly.

"Tell someone," begged Katie, "let them help you."

"I will tell no one," said Marcus firmly. "You don't understand, Katie. Even if I told someone, it never changes what happens. I don't tell prophecies; I see a jumbled mess of things that do not make sense. I don't have a pat little poem to recite. I just see things that will come to pass. If this were ancient times, I would be at Delphi. I would be locked away at Delphi."

"It's a gift and a curse," said Katie as she understood, finally. "You can warn but no one listens - the Cassandra curse."

"Yes," said Marcus with relief, "let me be who I want to be, love. Let me be a Quidditch player. I am free then to fly among the clouds."

"Yes," said Katie protectively, "you are free with me."

"It will be our secret," said Marcus as he pulled her closer into his arms.

"Yes," whispered Katie fiercely. She would not let anyone take him away from her.

Katie laid her head back on to his chest. He had trusted her enough to tell her his deepest, darkest secret. She had stayed the night with him because he had needed her. Come what may, she would be here for him, always.

Earlier that Night: The Slytherin Common Room:

"Circe," said Tarquin warmly, "come here, my little witch."

"Tarquin," said a subdued Circe, "I have been looking for you for ages."

"Yes," said Tarquin as he looked around the quiet room shiftily, "I had a project that I was working on. Come, sit on my knee and I'll tell you all about it."

"I have to tell you something," said Circe. Her eyes shifted away from Tarquin's merry, green eyes.

"What?" asked Tarquin, "It can't be that bad, love. Out with it."

"My father has started betrothal negotiations with a French family," said Circe. Her face was pale with shock.

"For who?" asked Tarquin. "Do you have a sister I don't know about?"

"For me," said Circe faintly. She finally looked into Tarquin's suddenly serious face.

"But," sputtered Tarquin, "he can't. I love you."

"You do?" asked Circe hopefully.

"I do," said Tarquin firmly.

"I will remember that," said Circe seriously, "I will always remember that, Tarquin."

A sense of unease washed over Tarquin at the tone in her voice. Circe's pretty face was pale and her eyes looked almost bruised like she had been crying. Tarquin swallowed heavily as he realized that she was utterly serious.

"What are you talking about, Circe?" asked Tarquin quietly.

"I am not like you or Marcus, Tarquin," said Circe seriously. "I can't defy my family like a man could. All I have is my dowry."

"Are you saying that you will marry this man if your father tells you to?" asked Tarquin as his voice started to rise.

Circe turned away and nodded.

"I can't see your face," snapped Tarquin. "Are you telling me that the witch who led me on a merry chase for months can't say no to her father? Merlin's mother, you've said no on countless occasions to me."

"Don't, Tarquin!" said Circe. She refused to turn around and look at his face. She couldn't bear to see the hurt on his face that she could hear in his voice.

"Then that's it," said Tarquin with a note of disbelief, "you are walking away from me, from us, without any regrets?"

"Oh, Tarquin," said Circe, her voice thick with tears, "I will always have regrets about you."

"Then don't go," said Tarquin as he wrapped his hands around her arms and turned her around. He pressed his lips against her cheek. "Stay with me."

"I cannot," said Circe as she wrenched away from his embrace. "Please try to understand. I have other people to think of. There is Cassandra. She's the one who is supposed to be your wife."

"Then the whole lot of you are expecting me to marry Cassandra still?" asked Tarquin with a note of disbelief in his voice.

"She will make a wonderful wife," said Circe with her chin up.

"Will she?" said Tarquin tightly as he hauled Circe up against his chest. His merciless hands held her in a tight grip. "Are you going to stand there while I become your brother-in-law with a smile, Circe? I wonder, are you going to ask her what it's like to share my bed? When she comes to you and tells you what we do in bed, are you going to smile still?"

"Stop it," said Circe thickly. Her heart was pounding. Tarquin was beginning to frighten her. She tried to wrench away from him.

"What will I care?" cried Circe. "I will be married to someone else."

"No," growled Tarquin. His temper was quite out of his control. He captured her mouth in a hard kiss.

"Please," whispered Circe against his punishing mouth. Then his mouth softened and became coaxing and seductive. Circe panted then moaned as she surrendered to his warm kiss. She gasped when his hand closed over her breast and began to softly stroke the delicate curves. Circe could feel her knees get weak as his kisses got hotter and wetter. She could only clutch at his shoulders when he let her go many heart stopping minutes later.

"Are you still going to leave me?" asked Tarquin gravely as he looked into her flushed, pretty face.

"I don't want to leave you;" said Circe softly, "but I have no choice."

"You always have choices," ground out Tarquin.

"And I have made mine," said Circe firmly. She felt like her heart would break at the look of disbelief in his beautiful eyes. Then he turned away from her. Her heart felt like it was shattering into a million pieces but she knew that this choice was the only one she could make. Her father was adamant. Tarquin was meant for Cassandra. If Tarquin did not marry Cassandra, he would never be given permission to marry her. Her father said that it would be over his dead and buried body.

Tarquin stared at her in disbelief that warred with a desperate sense of panic. He looked away as he felt a sudden urge to laugh. Several months ago, he made a wrong decision out of jealousy and now he was to pay for it in spades. He could never have Circe. Sometimes, some things just could not be fixed. He turned to look at her and he could see the pain hidden behind her eyes. He turned and, as quick as a snake, engulfed her into another hard embrace.

"Then make another decision," urged Tarquin as he kissed her throat, "come to bed with me tonight. If you won't give me a lifetime then at least give me one night."

Circe looked at his serious face in shock then felt herself nod. She would give him this night. It would be her night, as well. She always imagined that the only man she would ever sleep with would be Tarquin. At least now, he would be the first man she would ever sleep with.

Later, in his room, she was nervous and uncertain. He looked so grave and unsmiling. She nearly told him that she changed her mind when he engulfed her in a sudden, passionate, desperate kiss. Then she threw her arms around him and kissed him back with every iota of love she had for him. She wanted to remember every minute of the next few hours. She let him undress her. She moaned as he kissed every inch of skin that he uncovered. She blushed when he took off his clothes and settled himself against her nude body with a low purr. Then, she had surrendered to the heady excitement of his caresses as he slowly drove her insane with his petting hands and eager mouth.

Circe looked into his clear, green eyes and smiled tremulously when he took her virginity. Unlike what she had been led to believe, it hadn't hurt at all. Perhaps the physical pain had been drowned out by the pain in her heart. She knew now that she loved him more than ever. The spiraling excitement had built and built until she shattered. Later, when he collapsed against her body, she held him tightly. At this moment in time, he belonged to her.

Tarquin laid his head on her breasts and sighed as he clutched her tightly. He thought that if he had one night that it would be enough. But it wasn't. He felt like he only had a small taste when he wanted the entire feast. He wanted her to be his forever but all he had was this one night. A night that should have been full of love and laughter was reduced to this desperate futility. He swallowed his pain and pulled her closer.

Circe had tried to leave after she thought he had fallen asleep. But he would not let her go. He made love to her again. That time, he had gone slower and it had been sweeter. A few minutes ago, he had made love to her fiercely and passionately. Circe felt like a whole world had opened up to her, here, in his bed. But she had to find the strength to walk away from him.

As Tarquin lay there in the darkness with his thigh thrown over her hips protectively, he thought that if he only closed his eyes and pretended that she was a faceless Ravenclaw, he would be able to let her go. His fingers trailed up her smooth arm. It was like he was memorizing how she felt.

"I have to go," said Circe as she licked her swollen lips.

"I know," said Tarquin quietly as he caressed her smooth shoulder. He watched as she shifted up and clutched the covers to her nude body. He got up and gathered her clothes for her. She took them shyly as she rushed into the bathroom to put them on. Tarquin sighed and closed his eyes.

"Honestly," thought Tarquin bleakly. "why did it have to hurt this much when your heart was breaking?"

Circe came out of the bathroom and turned to go. Tarquin stopped her just in front of the door. She looked down at the floor in confusion and embarrassment.

"Don't ever forget me, Circe," said Tarquin thickly. He brushed his lips against her mouth softly.

"I won't," said Circe sadly as she turned and left.

Later, Tarquin lay in his bed where he could still smell her scent and wondered at the perversity of life. Here he was the premier catch in Britain and he couldn't have the woman he wanted. How many witches had he bedded without ever thinking about whether they felt pain when he moved on to the next witch? Well, they were all collectively getting their revenge on him, now.

"Merlin, how am I going to live without her?" thought Tarquin. He stared out into the darkness.