Burned Into Glory

Valentin

"Gellert!" Queenie shrieked, drunk and exhausted, throwing her head back against the pillow in the dark red bedroom. Grindelwald hovered beside her, dragging his thin, knobby wand up the inside of her thigh.

"Gaudens Maxima," he panted, and Queenie finished again for what felt like the eighth or ninth time. It couldn't have been that, surely, but it felt like it. Maybe it was that many times; she'd lost count. He'd long since finished himself off with his hand, making an enormous mess on her belly that he'd eventually Siphoned up. Now he was just torturing her with his wand, and finally Queenie drawled, her voice hoarse,

"I can't. I can't anymore."

"Yes, you can," he insisted, but she pushed his wand away and shook her head, feeling sweat around her hairline. She stared at him, feeling bleary, and whispered,

"I can't."

He smirked and dragged his wand up her belly, around a breast and down her arm. She shivered at that, at the touch of his wand to her skin, and she murmured,

"I need a bath."

"Bathroom's across the corridor," he replied, sitting back naked against the pillows. Queenie dragged herself slowly out of the bed, stumbling a little, and swayed where she stood. She hesitated and then said,

"I think I'm too drunk for a real bath. Maybe just some Scouring spells."

"Allow me," said Grindelwald, and he aimed his wand at her. "Tergeo. Scourgify. Scourgify Maxima."

Queenie felt her sweat dry, felt her body freshen, and she sighed as she climbed nude back into the bed. She and Grindelwald went beneath the blankets, and she snarled her body up with his as she mumbled,

"I felt some thoughts from you while you were making me come. Your Occlumency shields kept crumbling."

"Sorry," Grindelwald muttered. "I was distracted."

"It's okay, honey." Queenie raised her eyes from his chest and stared up at him. "You were thinking about Valentin. I saw his face in your mind. Why's he so scarred up? What happened to him?"

"I wasn't thinking about him, I didn't think. Must've been a stray thought," Grindelwald mused. He cleared his throat. "Anyway, his knowledge of Curses comes largely first-hand. He's been in countless duels; he made something of a career of challenging powerful Dark witches and wizards to duels for money. Spent decades doing it. But he lost a bad fight twenty years ago to a wizard in Warsaw. The Curse he took scarred up his face with all those rivulets and grooves, even with the counter-Curse. It's rumoured that he started attending Muggle churches after that fight. He almost died, and he turned to their god afterward."

"Interesting." Queenie chewed on her lip and asked, "Is he an Occlumens, do you know?'

"No idea," Grindelwald said, "but try to keep it a secret that you're a Legilimens, will you? You're my wife."

"Right." Queenie nodded fervently. "I'm just Queenie Grindelwald, Infertility Curse victim. Polite American."

Grindelwald curled up half his mouth and pet at her hair a little. "You'll do fine. It'll be fine."

"This is the place?" Queenie stared up at the five-storey, elegant row house in the Marais. She looked left and right down the quiet street and then focused on the shiny black door before her.

"Inside here, and then he's on the second floor," said Grindelwald. Queenie watched as he approached the black door, looking remarklably sharp and handsome in his black velvet tretch coat. He looked even more handsome than usual today, for some reason. It seemed like he'd put extra care into his appearance. He turned the brass knob on the door and pushed it open, and Queenie hurried to follow him inside. She'd opted for a simple black wool dress with a light wool cape over it, elegant black heels, and her pendant that had been a gift from Grindelwald. She walked behind him to the winding staircase, and they climbed the flights of stairs up to the second floor. When they'd reached it, they walked out onto the landing, and Grindelwald paused.