Title: Calor Cupiditatis
Pairing: Scorpius Malfoy/James Sirius Potter
Rating: M for grown-up language, graphic descriptions, and sexual situations and themes.
Warnings: original characters; het, slash, non-consensual situations (later on.)
Yes, yes, it is I. How nice to see you! It's been a long time since my last contribution – and let me tell you, the stuff that happened in that time? Hooboy. Life, eh? So crazy.
I'm afraid there'll be a bit of a preamble coming up. Skip it if you find such things tiresome ^^.
Let me take a moment to thank a bunch of people (in no particular order): MissGame, Voyager1987, HarryDracoDizzy, slashluver1984, SNlois, The Cookie Crumbles, , BlankMask, SlytherinChickXO, Tpol3FelixXCalhoun, Sepiolith and Bluemoon269 – y'all didn't go unnoticed, believe me. Thank you for reading my stuff, then putting said stuff onto your favourite lists and/or reviewing said stuff. A brave, lone ranger called Fraggle gave me my very first homophobic comment – Thank you for that, love! Your words inspired a key part of the following story. Also, I feel really validated in my relentless efforts to push the evil, ungodly HP slash fan-fiction agenda! Mwahaha.
Special thanks to Lunacom and Shiny. You both know what I mean.
And special special thanks to Nia (HP-Lette-Fan), my friend and beta-reader. You also know what for, and then some.
A bit about this story: It started, like these things often do, as a stupid and somewhat naughty idea. It's my first "Next Generation"-story ever, so I got to get really wild with the characters (although my favourite two last names stayed the same). I hope my (re-)imagination of their personalities and traits pleases you.
Also, you might have noticed the 'non-con' up there in the warnings. That's also a first for me. I grew up on a steady diet of non-con- infused fanfiction, so it's woefully difficult not to romanticize it. I didn't mean to, although I'm afraid that that's exactly what I did in the end. I'll let you be the judges of that.
Please accept my apology for taking so long with this one. To be fair, it is (drum roll, suspense) longer! (flourish, gasps!) than all my previous stories, by 15k words no less. It's so long, in fact, that I decided to make two stories out of it. Story and sequel, composed of 19 and 13 chapters respectively, coming right up.
As usual, I will be posting one chapter every evening (EST) to enable myself to interact with you (yeah, you who doesn't log in for reviewing, which of course you will be doing A LOT, because that makes me happy! *hint hint*).
As usual, pt 2, this is – surprise, surprise! - a slash fan-fiction. As such, it features boys kissing and falling in love and stuff (mostly stuff in this one, to be fair...). If you don't like it, leave – or better yet, leave me a review. Your words will be used to assist me with my future, HP-faggotry-promoting writing endeavours. xoxo
And now, without further ado: Please enjoy.
When Scorpius found the spell, he was thirteen. Looking back on it later, he sometimes thought that maybe the spell had found him instead. Like mistakes will find the person to make them, or like a sin eventually finds the sinner who can commit it.
It happened in his father's library while he was leafing through books, at more-or-less random, to find some information that would help him with the last two feet of the transfiguration assignment McGonagall had inflicted upon them over the holidays. As if anyone would ever really want to transform paper clips into cutlery.
He was about to slam the book before him shut when the detailed, lifelike drawing of a vagina made him do a double take.
He leafed back hastily, found the page, confirmed that it was indeed what he had thought it was, bookmarked it in a hurry with only a fleeting glance, looked around himself to make sure no one had seen, and flipped the book shut. His heart was beating fast and hot in his chest, not for the first time in his life, but almost.
His mother and father had made sure that he was informed about "sex and stuff", but in those talks they had done their best make it seem either boring or completely unattainable until he was at least thirty five.
At Hogwarts, sexuality wasn't exactly encouraged, so everything sex-related was still exciting and cloaked in secrecy. There were pictures in much-thumbed magazines, already faded and crinkly from use, circulating through the boys' dormitories, well out of the sight of girls or teachers. Filius Brocklebarn, a fifth year Slytherin, was a gifted artist and sometimes provided the house's boys with ink drawings of naked, buxom women in unlikely but enticing poses. He had drawn Annabelle Warren once – naked on her broom, long blonde hair flowing behind her – and left it lying on the table in the common room for a single inattentive second. Scorpius still had that sketch, tucked away safely in his stack of old homework papers. But none of those pictures or drawings ever actually showed a vagina – that hidden, mysterious place every boy seemed intent on getting to, while having only the vaguest of ideas about it.
Scorpius gingerly placed the book next to the stack of homework-relevant books on his desk, giving it a special place because he knew that he had struck gold.
The anticipation almost killed him. But if there was anything his father had taught him, it was self-control. Patience. Some might call it opportunism. So he would wait for his moment to arrive.
He could hear his mother going about her business in the adjacent office and there were house-elves around as well. Too much of an audience, not enough privacy. Not worth the risk. Getting himself caught was simply out of the question.
Dutifully he finished his assignment – still an inch and a half too short in the end but he hoped against all reason that McGonagall wouldn't measure it too over-carefully – and took the book with him to his bedroom. He put it into the night stand drawer and then went to have dinner. Next, he took care of his owls, wrote a letter to Bagman to ask her how her part of the big partner assignment for Potions was coming along, had a short match of Quidditch against his father which turned into a flying lesson like it always did when he had time, and took a shower afterwards.
It was half past nine when he made it to bed. He listened for noises for a full minute with bated breath, made sure twice that his door was locked. He laid one of his robes in front of it so the light of his lamp wouldn't shine through the crack under the door to alert his mother, should she walk down the hallway. If she saw the light, she might check in on him. That was to be avoided at all costs.
Finally, he took the book from the drawer, placed it on his thighs and opened it at the bookmarked page. His hands were a little sweaty. He was biting his tongue in concentration.
It wasn't how he had imagined a vagina to look like, frankly.
He had imagined that there was a lot more... hole involved – he did know the general mechanics of sex, after all, so it seemed plausible that there would be a hole for the, you know, to go into.
Instead, it looked more like flower petals that might or might not conceal a hole. It wasn't as neatly symmetric as he had thought it to be, either. Filius had always drawn them as simple, straight slits. Actually, it was wobbly and wavy and a bit weird. Frilly and vaguely shaped like an elongated teardrop.
Also, he was astonished to find, there were actually two holes deftly concealed within this flowery arrangement, which the text around the drawing described. And a weird little knob whose only function seemed to be to evoke spectacular sensations in a woman, right at the top, though, confoundingly remote from where the, know you, was supposed to go and where the actual touching was bound to happen. The author, apparently a man although it said Andrea Gabriello Santini on the cover – Italian, Scorpius suspected – couldn't really describe this sensation with words. "According to my questionees," he merely wrote, "these feelings sometimes last several seconds and range from firework-like, supremely euphoric outbursts to the deeply content, satisfactory feeling that is experienced when one finally succeeds in sneezing."
Scorpius snickered and turned the page. Even more pictures of vaginas, entitled 2, 3, 4a, 4b, and 5. It took him some inspection to spot the differences between the studies. The further down on the page he went, the plumper and redder the petals seemed to be. More moist, too. And the fascinating little knob had swollen as it sat there, like a pearl in a clam, even though it wasn't perfectly round at all. More like a pea. A half-hidden pea. In the last drawing, a tiny opening showed as a clear liquid flowed from it.
Scorpius was mystified and read the text surrounding the illustrations to understand what he was looking at.
This was the first time he came across the spell.
Calor Cupiditatis, it read in still-legible Fraktur, is a spell that inspires sexual desire in all* living creatures that have the discernible disposition for such a state.
The asterisk, just as he would have guessed, led to a disclaimer at the bottom of the page saying that 'all' was, naturally, an extrapolation from various experiments. Also, despite several trials, the jury was still out when it came to pandas. Scorpius tried not to reflect on any of that and jumped back into the text.
Bodily, it brings about and quickens the blood flow to the sexual organs, causing rapid swelling (as seen in figures 2 through 5) and heightened sensitivity to touch and temperature overall. Heightened sensitivity of sensory organs, such as a heightened perception of smells and sounds, may occur. Susceptible recipients may experience heightened emotions which manifest themselves as temper tantrums or crying fits. In rare cases, the recipient may fall asleep abruptly.
"Huh, that's vague," Scorpius mumbled to himself and turned the page. "What a useless spell."
Calor Cupiditatis does not affect the hormonal balance and thus will not influence the biological reproductive performance as such.
In distinction to Aestus Alacer, the spell inspires sexual thought and a general mental feeling of heightened sexual appetite in accordance to the recipient's inclinations and nature. In distinction to Culmen Calidus, the spell will not necessarily bring about an instantaneous climax but rather inflict upon the recipient an organic if strong excitement that will demand to be sated quickly and thoroughly. It was devised to treat women with the common symptoms of hysteria and ease inappetence and lethargy.
Mariella had told him about hysteria once to make a point about how boys never understood girls. Shrew had ended up in the Hospital Wing with a pair of drooping broccoli ears, after telling Mariella that boys would understand girls if girls just tried to be less hysterical every once in a while.
Daily treatment longer than 14 consecutive days is not recommended.
"Massively helpful advice," Scorpius mouthed to himself as the text ended there without specifying why the treatment shouldn't be longer, or what might happen if it was.
He went back to the pictures of the vaginas, anxiously checked once more if there was anybody watching or listening, and finally dared to touch them with his fingertip.
It was an anticlimactic moment to say the least. He didn't even know what he had expected. It was just ink on paper. The pictures didn't even move.
He turned the page and almost turned back immediately, but then didn't when he realised that he was all alone and there was no one there to judge him. Still, it felt strange to sit here and look at detailed illustrations of a penis in various stages of becoming erect. He couldn't help but wonder if his own would ever be that long and thick. He hoped it would. It looked so strong and imposing while his wasn't, yet.
Scorpius let the book fall shut and slid it back into his night stand drawer, lay down and pulled the blanket over his head. "Caylor. No. Cah-lore." Must pronounce Latin. "Calor. Calor Cupi... Cupidatis. No." He mouthed the word slowly. "Coo... pee... dee... tah... tis." Then, faster. "Cupiditatis. Calor Cupiditatis." He felt positively nefarious for saying it. He giggled and said it once more.
He fell asleep without meaning to and dreamed of Annabelle Warren on her broom but wouldn't remember it in the morning.
He brought the book back to the library in an opportune moment the next afternoon, put it back in the shelf between all the others, until it was just one of the many, nothing remarkable, forgettable. He forgot the title the same evening, and the name of the author the week after.
And indeed he forgot most about the spell – if not about the detailed illustrations of vaginas and penises, because no child can forget about something like that, not ever, not really – until years after that.
"Not..." He sealed the word into her mouth with his lips but eventually had to draw back again. "...now," she continued once she was able to. "I don't... have time right n-ohh."
He had caught Sarah before Astronomy class. She had let herself be pulled into a hidden niche and welcomed his embrace and his kisses but wasn't much inclined to his hand wandering up between her smooth thighs, sadly.
"There's plenty of time," he mumbled into the nape of her neck. He gently yet surely marked her as his territory with his lips and teeth, taking in the scent of her skin – peachy, soapy, very feminine – and enjoying the soft feeling of it against his mouth, cheeks and nose.
They'd only just started doing this four days ago when they had had a slightly tipsy encounter in and outside of a Hogsmeade pub. More than slightly tipsy on her part, maybe. Merlin bless Hogsmeade visits.
He knew it wasn't made to last. Sarah was a free bird, the freest that Hogwarts had to offer. Everyone knew that several boys had had the pleasure already. Davies, Weasley, Mitchell and O'Brian were the names that first came to mind. All of them were much more handsome, taller and more popular than Scorpius was, all of them older – one of them had graduated last year, one currently finishing his seventh year in Beauxbatons, and two seventh year Hogwarts students when he was only in sixth – but Sarah wouldn't let herself be tied down by anyone.
Scorpius didn't have delusions of grandeur. He just wanted to enjoy it while he could, while Sarah was fine with yet another substitute for the guy she really wanted, in spite of, or because of, the idiot's persistent virginity and refusal to date anyone. Which everyone knew as well.
"No, there isn't." Her voice sounded husky, but with an edge. "I was late last week already, Sinistra is going to give me detention-"
"I'll be there with you." He hadn't told her yet that he'd recently come across a spell that made him invisible – one of the very few transfiguration-based spells he happened to be really, really good at. Well, technically not invisible; more like a chameleon. In any case, he could actually join her in detention without anyone having a clue. "I can make detention worth your while," he promised, purring it with a teasing upward inflection.
"But I don't want detention." The way her voice fell at the end of the sentence already told him that she was about to switch from playful to serious, even before the inevitable "Scorpius, stop" followed suit.
He did with a sigh and bodily sagged against her. She let him stand like that and bathe in her scent, warmth and softness for ten more merciful seconds. Then she peeled him off of herself, putting some distance between them.
He looked at her, pulling the most miserable-but-not-pathetically-so face he could.
It worked. Her lips, still red and moist from the previous activities, twitched upward in the corners in a mollified little smile, and she leaned in to him. "Seven o'clock in the alcove by the Transfiguration classroom?" she mumbled cosily and rubbed her nose against his with a coy smile.
"Can't bloody wait," he mumbled back, got another peck on the cheek, a quick "Don't be late, or else", and then she was gone and left him standing there. In every sense of the word. He sighed and went to find himself a deserted restroom.
Be a dear, leave me a review, make my day!
And come by tomorrow maybe to read chapter 2?