Lustful Alchemy

32. CASSANDRA

We approach the platform, where the locomotive of the Hogwarts Express gleams in the pale gray light of dawn. I can't help but glance at Aesop from time to time, as if to reassure myself that he is really beside me, his calm and steady presence ready to accompany me and Albus, who walks between us, to Egypt. The Ministry of Magic has arranged every leg of the journey: a delegation will be waiting for us in London, at King's Cross, at Platform 9 and three quarters, to take us to the Ministry; from there, we'll go to Egypt via a Portkey set up right in the Minister's office.

«How do you feel, Albus?» I ask the boy as our luggage is being loaded onto the train.

«A bit nervous. But it's also exciting, in a way. I missed the smell of the platform. It takes me back, but at the same time, it pushes me forward,» he answers, smiling, his blue eyes observing everything with relentless curiosity and an unusual wisdom for his age, as if he sees and understands more than he lets on.

Behind us, Aesop takes long drags from his cigarette, his long brown coat flapping in the March wind that also tousles his hair. None of us says anything, but there's a silent awareness that everything that's happened since Christmas until now is thanks to Albus. Without him, Aesop and I would probably still be bickering and brooding with excitement. Aesop shows his gratitude with a bit more attentiveness than usual, but otherwise, he keeps it to himself.

In fact, when we enter the carriage that the Ministry has reserved for us, a slight awkwardness lingers in the air. Aesop lets me go first, giving me the choice of seat—by the window—and then does the same for Albus, who sits in the middle of the row of seats opposite me. Aesop is thus forced to sit in my row, in a seat not quite next to me but not too far either, facing the boy, who averts his gaze, pretending a vagueness that nonetheless fails to hide the smile creeping onto his lips.

«In good spirits, Mr. Dumbledore?» Aesop asks inquisitively. The three of us know perfectly well what's so amusing.

The boy straightens up and tries to look serious: «Indeed, Professor Sharp. This journey is a great honor for me. And I couldn't be more grateful to Professor Doyle for deeming me worthy.»

I blush: «The merit is all yours, Albus. If you hadn't shown courage and dedication, you wouldn't be here today. So, you're the only person you should be thanking.»

With the boy's lips curling into a smile, the train begins to move slowly as the light starts to peek over the mountains.

As the train travels peacefully along the track and Albus takes the opportunity to scribble among his assignments, I can feel the tension lingering between my body and Aesop's, forced close in a small space where it's impossible for us to touch. With his head bent over a book, out of the corner of my eye, I observe the sheets of parchment with Potions essays scribbled on them, scattered across the seats and his knees as a pretext for correcting them. But for at least fifteen minutes now, he's been stuck on the same page—an exaggeration for Aesop, given his vast knowledge of the subject.

And just when I've given up hope, Albus exclaims, «I need to stretch my legs a bit. If you'll excuse me,» he closes his Transfiguration book and gets up, taking his leave and disappearing down the narrow corridor.

In one swift motion, Aesop stretches his body and arm and closes the compartment door. «I almost thought it wouldn't happen,» he says, pulling me into a kiss I've been longing for for hours.

I surrender into his strong arms, losing myself along the edges of his mouth. He didn't shave this morning—I'm not sure if it's because he didn't actually have time or because he knows I like it when he's just slightly unshaven.

«What are your intentions?» I ask, more as a formality than out of actual ignorance.

He sighs against my skin. «Always the worst with you. But with your protégé around, I can't take advantage the way I'd like.»