Lustful Alchemy

16. CASSANDRA

The changing colours of the flora from green to orange, the early onset of darkness, and the cold air seeping through the drafts in the castle herald the arrival of October. Now that I've been teaching for a month, I've grown accustomed to my new role and feel more confident when facing the class – and of course, Alisteir Rookwood, with whom I've had my share of disagreements. I've continued to encourage Albus Dumbledore to read Muggle newspapers, often meeting him in the library after lessons to discuss history, politics, and all those matters unknown to the wizarding world. I've been pleased to see a boy who is interested and receptive, though I suspect he harbours some reservations towards Muggles, well hidden behind his extreme politeness. If I were to get to know him better, I'd be interested in discovering the reason for this reluctance.

As for Sharp and me, things seem to have changed since the night we found ourselves together, naked, in the Prefects' Bathroom. Although we haven't spoken about it, it's clear that there's been a rise in sexual tension between us: I can tell by the hungry way he looks at me, by how he lingers when he passes by, by how his provocations are subtly becoming more explicit. It's as if that night a couple of weeks ago he has invaded my thoughts. Indeed, I remember feeling a strong sense of dizziness when we were together in the tub, as if I were breathless and about to faint. And that same night, when I masturbated thinking of him, the image of our lovemaking in my mind was so vivid and obscenely explicit that I truly believed he had accessed my mind, that he had fucked the synapses of my brain until I experienced an orgasm so intense that for a moment, before opening my eyes after reaching ecstasy, I thought he was in my bed, drenched in my fluids.

Come to think of it, he has often anticipated what I wanted to say in the past, or given voice to my silent reflections. Sometimes he looked at me so intensely that it felt like our bodies were melding into each other. And now, seeing the way we interact, it seems as though we've made a silent pact, as if we both know of a dark secret not to be revealed to anyone else. Perhaps it's not noticeable from the outside, but between us, we're sometimes strangely formal, as if we're patiently waiting for the other's move... or as if we know that beneath all this composed politeness lies a beast, avid and insatiable, desperately seeking a way to satisfy its most carnal pleasures. And, I must admit, I don't mind the game. I want to know how much longer he'll be able to resist, and especially when he'll give in.

That's why lately I've been trying to provoke a reaction from him in various ways: brushing against him at the table, responding in kind to all his provocations, maintaining eye contact longer than necessary. Or, like today, wearing tight black leather trousers, a burgundy shirt with a black silk bow at the collar, and a cloak of emerald green velvet, with many silver snakes embroidered along the fabric that slither when touched with the wand: a gift from my group of friends when I turned 17. As beautiful and warm as it is, however, I'll wear it for only a short while: I want to feel all the cold of the dungeons, much to Sharp's dismay.

My footsteps echo on the stone floor as I make my way down the corridor towards the Alchemy Classroom. I push open the heavy wooden door and slip inside, leaving it slightly ajar, and begin arranging the students' workstations. Today, we'll be focusing on Elixir Alchemy and Metallic Alchemy, also known as the Wet Path and the Dry Path, so they'll need cauldrons, vials, and various alembics. After setting everything up on the large square tables, the solemn tolling of the bell reverberates throughout the castle, signaling to students and teachers the change of the hour. The corridors start bustling with footsteps and voices, the human tide of witches and wizards heading towards their points of interest. As the minutes pass, I realize I'm trembling more and more with the imminent arrival of Sharp. My hands sweat, and my heart beats fast in my chest, so much so that I have to take deep breaths to bring it back to a more regular rhythm as I pace back and forth in the classroom, trying to appear busy and casual. I align the work tools on the tables and add some extra measuring cups, all to distract myself from the anticipation of Sharp's arrival.