The Student, The Apprentice, and The Bride

Hogwarts, DADA Classroom

December 20th, 1972

Two students were sat before him, Ebon not bothering to lift his head from his stack of papers. It was the final few papers for the homework and tests he'd sprung out before Winter Break, and while Ebon wasn't such a dick of a professor to give out homework over Christmas Break -remembering how annoying it was during his own schooling- he did stack on a lot of pop-quizzes, exams, tests, and homework prior the break. The most he gave during the break were defensive spell practice and physical exercise recommendations to be performed throughout one's daily life. It was effectively an easy to cheat exercise sheet that required a parent or guardian's permission that the student performed these abilities over the break. For the muggleborn among them, or those without guardianship, he just expected the physical work to be done and based it on the honor system.

'I possibly threatened to use my divination abilities to test if they did it or not, but that's too much work to verify over seven-hundred students, so they'll just have to call my bluff.' Ebon shrugged.

Hogwarts' Winter Breaks, however, weren't mandatory. It was thus that many students stayed behind over the break instead of returning to their homes and families. It was entirely the student's prerogative, especially those that were beyond their majority. Which, once again, was sixteen years old for some god forsaken reason. As an American, he believed that eighteen was where one officially 'grew up', with twenty-one being bullshit laws that affected college students and military personnel the most. Technically the 'twenty-one' age requirement to drink and do bad adult-things was based on science that indicated the human brain stopped maturing and growing around that age; something to do with proteins within the neural structure. Beyond his own opinions on legal ages of adulthood, Ebon didn't really care about the Wizarding Worlds backwards laws, and just kept an eye on his students.

It led to a couple students within his classroom, studying. One Bellatrix Black was practically expected, the young woman having stuck by his side since their fishing trip during November. He didn't really push the girl away, especially after experiencing some…repressed feelings for her. The two had been making eyes at one another for the past month, little gestures and energies of attraction flowing between the two; and both knew it. However, with Ebon's position of authority, he was restricting himself, and Bellatrix had started to make a game of making him break for it first. He'd done just the same, and while extremely underexperienced in this field, gave as good as he got in matching her seductions with those of his own.

It wasn't anything overt, but more intimate spell instructions, words that if taken out of context would be alarming to an extreme, unbuttoning his dress shirt to expose more of his chest during class while near her, or totally ignoring her and talking up another girl within her class. The latter worked wonderfully, Bellatrix staying late then and effectively pouting at him, up until she saw his grin of satisfaction. The expression of realization that she'd been got was hilarious and had him laughing under the protection of the shielding charm.

They were both playing dangerous games, with her making alterations to her dress; but Ebon was a young man who grew up in the modern era. He'd walked beaches in Malibu, Italy, Turkey, and Miami; he'd seen women strutting around in string and thongs, while also being exposed to the internet. The intent of flustering him was lost, but Ebon saw no reason to occasionally bite and give the young woman the validation she sought with her choice in outfit.

She always came into DADA and shucked off her robe, with Ebon keeping the room at a mild seventy-degrees, some people would find such a temperature rather warm. The young men in his Sixth-Year class feasted their eyes on a rapidly developing wardrobe that the noble woman sported, one that he had been guiding with signs of approval or indirect recommendations. What started as classy and racy for both the time period and the society they lived within, quickly devolved and developed into a fashion trend that wouldn't see its surge in popularity into the muggle zeitgeist for decades to come. Corsets, black eyeliner, black lipstick, pale blush, wavy curls, crimson blouses showing decadent curls, along with some of his gifts.

Nothing racy or overtly alarming, at least if one didn't pay attention to the fact, it was a teacher and student effectively courting one another. His gifts were diverse. Starting off were magazines, personally constructed through creating transfigured models and alchemical clothing and organizing them within his Prison Dimension. He gave them a very muggle flair, devoid of meaningless advertisements. This first gift had seen Bellatrix become intensely interested in gothic clothing, if not the exact culture. To remedy this, he performed his duty as an educator and started to introduce her to a few schools of magic.

Runes weren't something he developed a Mastery for due to the limited amount of time he'd spent 'grinding' magical knowledge. However, for someone like himself, they were likely the most useful school of magic that he could take from this world. Runes were Language, and through Language, magic was created. He, Client of The Great Wyrm, knew thousands of Eldritch Languages. Ebon's initial introduction to reality had him use the time given to him within it to practice mundane magic. This was for numerous reasons, one being that his Prison Dimension didn't have ambient magical energy to practice with, and for another, at the time it was a non-Euclidean mess of confusing dimensions overlapping with one another. Organizing the structure into what was now known as the Ebonhold took time, but now that he had something resembling order placed over the realm, academic and martial pursuits were available to him within the realm. Ever since the mild 'disaster' that was his first 'vacation' from work, he'd since regulated his entirely unneeded periods of stress-relief into his Prison Dimension.

The productivity helped alleviate a sense of dissatisfaction he'd come to have since taking this job. While it was fun and thrilling interacting with the human side of social interaction and performing as an educator, there was a growing part of him that wanted to grow. As a person Ebon thought he was growing wonderfully, his social problems were a thing of a distant past. His relationship, burgeoning as it was with Miss Black, was something he looked on fondly towards. He ignored any of the moral dilemmas that one might hold against him for thinking of such a way about the young woman. Once, she looked at him and saw a professor who might help professionally; a Master and Apprentice relationship with mild attraction between the two. Then, Ebon opened up with her, telling her about his origins and history. It was a spontaneous decision, and one that might not make sense outside of his own head. He was always introspective, and he knew it would be unhealthy to keep this weight inside of him for all eternity. Bellatrix represented someone that was of no threat to him, as there wasn't a damned thing in this world that could reasonably threaten him. It was easy trauma dumping on the woman, for while he might not have been looking for pity, he was looking for someone to help him answer or act as a sounding board for hard hitting questions he'd been plagued with.

As alien and unique as he was as a living creature, he too had his own problems and dilemmas; the least of which were those that needled his psyche about being a false shadow of a man who once lived. Simply talking about it and sharing the unfathomable with someone, even as limited as they were in truly understanding the scale and scope of what he'd done; it was somewhat freeing. In two respects, one being that he no longer needed to keep such a thing so secret; at least in this world where the repercussions of such an unbelievable fact were unlikely to be taken seriously, nor were they likely to be retributed against. In the other respect, it was nice having someone who, even if barely, understood. The following day, as Bellatrix and him fired weapons; he'd started to see a woman instead of a student. There were other details of that fact, like having a beautiful woman pressing up against him, blushing and squirming at his actions, or the innocence at which she desired a weapon that'd make men squeal with envy. Ebon wasn't ignorant to Bellatrix's beauty, or her attraction for him. When he asked Andromeda about what she wanted to know about his detentions, it wasn't anything like he'd insinuated; Bellatrix didn't want to join his detentions for impromptu detention sessions. Rather, she was wondering if they'd be bearable to deal with if it meant spending time with him. He might've lifted that answer from Andromeda's mind during a bit of eye-contact, but the girl really needed better mental shielding.

Filling into his role as their Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, he wasn't going to respond to Bellatrix's attentions; up until he started to catch them too during the camp side conversations and their detentions with one another. For as resolutely as he could effectively 'roleplay' a Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, he was still merely a young man, wishing for connections and bonds, which did indeed include those of the romantic persuasion.

It was through this logic that he started to prepare what he'd started to think would be his bride-to-be. He made it sound like grooming, but Bellatrix was twenty years old, raised within a puritan society, and if she wanted to be beside him; he'd need to make the effort in lifting her up to stand there. It sounds bad, but there wasn't really any other way he could reasonably phrase it; she was the one who was still attracted to an omnicidal demigod of the Eldritch Truth.

This led him back to Runecraft and its languages. Through entirely new developments into arithmancy based on quantifying the unquantifiable with imaginary numbers, mathematics detailing and exploring higher dimensional geometries; Ebon was starting to create a foundational grasp on various languages and their newly created writing systems. Through exploiting these languages, Ebon figured it was possible to introduce Bellatrix to runic tattooing; granting her physical, mental, and spiritual alterations that would buoy her existence into becoming robust enough to handle potentially contracting as a client with one of his sealed Great Ones. He'd be there to make such a contract as one sided as possible, potentially forcing such a creature into absolute obedience, but before he could consider doing such a thing; he needed to teach and expand her mind to handle even the barest whispers of the Eldritch Truth.

He'd thus sent her various gifts in the form of jewelry. Modeled somewhat after that fancy diadem he'd found in the lost and found, he'd reconstructed and then dramatically improved the enchantments and rune work of the Diadem; creating artifacts that had seen Bellatrix preforming exceedingly well in his classes, to utterly breezing through any practical or academic work he sent her way. Including other classes.

To temper this, he'd brought her aside as his prospective Apprentice, and directly told her that he expected utmost mastery with these gifts; for any less would be a waste of them. She understood clearly, and she thus gained access to books, theory, and academic works he produced within his Prison Realm that would revolutionize dozens of magical schools ten times over.

Turning his gaze over Bellatrix, he took in the sight of the woman. Blackened hair darker than a Raven, something he was somewhat surprised to find was actually natural and not magically dyed; although considering they were named Blacks, then someone in their line must've altered their bloodline to include the genetic potential for the figurative Raven Black Hair to be literal. Around her neck and resting below her collar bone was a thumbnail sized gemstone, a garnet gleaming under the fire lights, attached to a thin woven gold chain. She wore a sheer sleeveless tank top, her prodigious bust barely concealed by the shirt, over which rested a long white cardigan that draped down to her boots. Resting just above her cleavage would be yet another necklace, although this one deserved to be called an amulet. A disk of Pure Silver, alchemically created to be 100% pure, and then enchanted to remain so; this silver amulet was stamped with the image of a twisting network of roots, two networks of which combined in the center to form a spiraling pater.

Twin earrings, both of which were drop-bar earrings of the same silver hung from her ears, framing her face that was pulled into one of utmost focus on the book in her hands. At her waist was a sash of flannel, a jacket that she periodically went around with, something of an artifact from their fishing trip. It was attached around long pale blue jeans, the legs of which were tucked into long brown laced boots that drew up to the bottom of the knee. The pants extended up to her midriff, buckled with a thick black belt with silver clips and buckles.

Tapping away at her desk, the clack of rings echoed through the room periodically as they clacked against one another. Her left hand was baren of rings, as such were meant for wedding rings or other significance like Dynastic Patriarch Rings.

Her thumb held the most minimalistic ring, that of a skull. All her jewelry was personally made by Ebon, something he knew had the girl's heart pounding each time he subtly gifted such to her. It was also his prerogative to give these artifacts equal if not superior to the founder's own their own names, much to her bemused exasperation.

The Decayed Halfjaw, as he called it, was a baren ring of Black Iron; a fantastically unoriginal name to call a mystical material but was effectively 'super iron' and was one of the hardest to enchant materials he'd ever worked with. So much so that he'd effectively given up on enchanting it, and instead Spoke words into the material. Wearing that ring, Bellatrix had effectively gained a Troll's resistance to spells. A Stunner from himself would make the girl doozey, like she'd taken a knock to the skull, but she'd likely keep on her feet. Other Wizards would find their spells incapable of taking hold of her, although there were limits to this granted magical resistance. Runes etched onto the underside of the ring was effectively a very basic and simple Death Ward. Upon detecting a lethal wound, the ring would grant its entire properties to Bellatrix, turning her skin, bones, muscle, mind, and soul into that of Black Iron. She'd freeze, becoming a statue that was effectively impossible to manipulate with mundane magics that weren't abject reality manipulation, with the spell wearing off in some decades.

Considering Black Iron melted at ten-times the heats that normal iron did. Normal pure iron melted at around 1,538 degrees Celsius. Black Iron melted at 15,380, which was five-thousand degrees higher than the temperature of the surface of the sun. He didn't need to get into how tough the shit was.

The next ring, The Onyx Hold, was effectively just a fancy storage-space. A pristinely carved and cut pyramid of black Onyx, held within a ring of Black Iron. Pointing it at an object, intuitive control would allow one to store said object inside a stasis storage dimension, equal to the volume of the Black Sea.

If one didn't notice, there was a bit of a pattern with the rings; although once Bella had noticed, she'd given him shit for it.

Lastly, The Fractal Slate, a gemstone made from highly refined stone rather than an actual gemstone, was a cleverly carved piece of slate stone, acting as high-quality defenses against all informorph, memetic, and eldritch effects to the mind.

Where the rings were protective elements necessary to read and understand the Eldritch Truth, her necklaces and other accessories were different. For one, around her right wrist, was a bangle of a curled and shrunken silver sword; made a core of Black Iron and then seethed within a gilding of Pure Silver, it was a blade that could smash through enchantments and magical protections, while being anathema to creatures with a weakness to silver. At will, Bellatrix could unshrink the blade even without a wand and wield a bastard-sword blade to any trying to attack her.

Her twin necklaces, meanwhile, were more utility based. The garnet necklace was indeed the magical intelligence enhancing artifact, while her twin earrings helped in the development and strengthening of her mind. They were mildly cursed to attach constant pressure to her mind, forcing her to think of difficult arithmancy problems, and subtly conditioned the young woman to problem solve creatively. He'd also cursed the earrings to remove thoughts of removing them from her body, enhancing sleep and removing six-hours of required slumber in exchange for demented dreams of Eldritch Nightmare; designed to harden her mind to the horrors of the Deep or Cosmic grandiosity. Each piece of jewelry came with safety functions, reporting data-analytics of her mind's integrity for him to act as her educator, curating her education to assist and help her grow.

Bellatrix Black: IMG

Where the tipping point would come weren't from these training wheels, but rather from the Eldritch Tattoos and various rituals he'd started to design using those languages. On her skin, he'd already theorized dozens of various designs that'd grant her warding protections from most all Eldritch Horrors. Taking inspiration from his other student, although not one he'd invested in so much as Bellatrix, he'd likely transmute the properties of Black Iron into her bones, granting her even more resistance to magic separate from the Decaying Halfjaw Ring. Engraving eldritch runes onto her bones, along the inside linings of her skull, and taking care to reinforce and magically alter the properties of her blood and marrow; he'd lay the foundations for an ascendent transmortal to stand by him.

He was currently unsure of what to do about her organs, besides some mutagenic rituals that were extremely unsafe, untested, and suspect to symptoms including identity death. But for now, he had the foundation laid out and could worry about future modifications for Bella at a later date.

His secondary student who was reading a technically stolen book right in front of him, was Severus Snape. The young man, a mere Third Year, who he's heard among the professors as a slipping student; was in fact the most studious young man he'd ever seen. Severus and Bellatrix were the only students within his classroom, as it was rather late into the day.

Bellatrix was studying, and Severus was studying just the same. Bellatrix had the benefit of being older than Severus and had prospects in becoming a significant other for himself personally by virtue of being an attractive woman; thus, allowing further investment into her, potentially become his wife. He hesitated to say, 'greater half', as there were unavoidable power dynamics within their relationship that'd need to be broached, but reflection into their relationship and its dynamics could be explored later. He could integrate BDSM culture into their relationship, but that felt tripe and wasn't a strong base for their relationship to develop from. He didn't truly expect his commands to be heeded, and their bedroom intercourse would need to be explored before he started to make assumptions and demands. Perhaps Bellatrix would enjoy a strong hand, or perhaps she might not and would just bear with it. It was the latter that he feared, with her shutting down her fire and vitriol inside of her in the face of his wrath or ire. Like any other man, he could raise his voice and shout, but it'd take a dark day and a horrendous fight for him to ever physically raise his hand against someone, even just a stranger, let alone someone he loved. Or at least enjoyed the presence of.

 He doubted he'd ever be capable of making her his equal, but there needed to be a certain level of capability and competence reached to survive within the Blind Eternities. In a theoretical future with Bellatrix by his side, and their relationship status confirmed, Ebon reflected on how he might approach future 'jumps' into other realities. Certainly, keeping his status as an omnicidal ender of realities, prophet of the Great Wyrm, and Harbinger of the End on the down-low was to be well advised; and then there were information gathering nuances that he might want to invest in so he could be sure he needn't step on any toes he couldn't fight back against.

It was certainly different family planning than a mundane mortal might need to consider, which wasn't even getting into potential children; but Ebon would worry about that when they were well along their relationship with one another. Currently, they were courting, and he was aware that Bellatrix had a fiancé; not to mention her family and House. Raised with certain expectations and preconceptions of the world, which interactions with yours truly have broken down and utterly reshaped; to outside perceptions beyond maybe her sisters, she was still the eldest Black child. Promised to one Rodolphus Lestrange, he had a competitor for his bride's hand in marriage.

Of course, just by looking at the two ones would be utterly insane to state Rodolphus had a snowballs chance in hell to win Bellatrix's heart when he was pursuing it. It was just unfair, and Ebon felt some pity for the student. Any reaction or consequence that House Black or Lestrange might field against Ebon for publicly engaging in a relationship with Bellatrix were null and void. He might lose his job, but he was here to obtain relationships and social connections, not a career or money. Obtaining one as emotionally deep and valuable as Bellatrix and him within a potential romantic relationship…

Well, that was a mission success if I've ever seen one.

Political ramifications were null as he'd marry Bellatrix, and he had no doubt the ambitious -but wild- woman had patience for politics. She could learn and be a fierce opponent within the rinks of high society, but it wasn't her calling. She yearned for battle, adrenaline, adventure, conflict, and a life worth living. Not petty power schemes.

Ebon was fully prepared to offer her everything she could ever want, so long as she agreed to stay by his side and provide him company.

Leaning back in his chair, Ebon waited. He'd finished with his papers, and now was just waiting for Severus to finish studying. In his hands was a book he'd rather cleverly stolen from his office, requiring Ebon to investigate the skeins of fate to find where it went, and found it in Severus' belongings. Along with two other books of his penmanship. The boy was acting as a collector of sorts, and with his experiments in potions being as they were, Ebon would be a foul professor if he were to stifle the creativity and genius Severus held within his chosen craft. He'd thus distantly and indirectly sponsored the boy and had plans to arrange a whole host of educational material to fall into his path.

Severus seemed to sigh and rub at his temple, then glanced up and only now noticed the classroom was empty save a still studying Bellatrix, and himself. Severus seemed to be surprised as he saw Ebon kicking his feet up on his desk, leaning back. "Erm, Professor? Are we keeping you?" Severus asked, a bit nervous and unwilling to annoy Ebon.

Bellatrix raised her head, but Ebon just waved her to keep studying and stood from his desk. "Severus, come." He ordered the boy to follow him, "I'll be back Bellatrix." He walked out of the classroom and shut the door, then cast a privacy charm and stared down at the boy.

"Severus."

"Yes, sir?"

"I'm proud of how far you've come." He pat the young man's shoulder, "Now, I know you have some of my books."

The boy tensed, "Keep them, but I ask a price today."

"…And that is…"

"Run interference on my hallway. Tell them I'm out fishing; whatever works. I'll be out," Ebon checked his nonexistent watch, "Till Friday." It was a Sunday.

Severus raised an eyebrow and nodded, "Whatever are you out for, sir?"

Ebon grinned and wagged his eyebrows. "Leisure."

Severus coughed, "Erm, sir? Is that..." He cleared his throat, glancing back at the classroom, "Legal?"

"Not likely. Don't rightly care if I'm caught out with it, but eh. You live once." Ebon shrugged, "Anyway..." He jerked his head and Severus nodded quickly.

"Uh, have fun, sir."

"I trust you'll keep this in confidence?"

"Yes, sir." Severus nodded quickly. "…I could always use a few more resources…"

Ebon grinned and clapped the lad on the shoulder. "Talk to me when school starts back up and I'll have something for you." And turned back inside his classroom. There he found Bellatrix still studying away, her quill automagically writing away, complex formula spreading out through page of parchment paper. He grabbed a chair and dragged it by her, sitting close.

Bellatrix snapped her eyes towards him, wide and questioning. He just gave an innocent grin, "Did you know that I'm technically not part of the staff that is required to stay over the Winter Break?" He asked.

Bellatrix's confused gaze turned a bit flustered, jerking her head back to her paper, although the quill had stopped writing. "Hmm, and why are you telling me this?" She asked back as she reached for a book.

His hand softly grasped the one reaching, folding his fingers within her own, "There's always a few students who sneak out about town during Winter Break…" He led, "And who'd suspect the teacher's pet?" He stroked along her thigh.

Licking her lips and swallowing thickly, "Are you inviting me along, Professor Kampf?" She whispered. His arm left her thigh and snaked along her back, and without warning she was picked up and placed within his lap. With a squeak she froze, her professor's chin resting along her shoulder, his lips mere centimeters away from her cheek. His hand rested along her naval, a soft pressure having her thighs squirm, while his other rejoined her hand in a comforting hold.

"Would you like that?" He asked softly into her ear, his breath smelling of winter roses and freezing mint. His scent itself was a powerful cologne, one that she grew immensely familiar with; a smokey scent that was ever so slightly aridic reminding her of the biting fermentation of fire whiskey, balanced and mellowed out by a dizzying scent that had searching for its source; yet never able to luxuriate within it like she was now. "Where would you like to go?"

She felt herself tucked into his powerful form, reminded suddenly of times she was held within her grandfather's lap. Arcturus Black was a man who'd fought in both World Wars, facing Dark Lord Grindelwald in battle, and slaying some of the man's greatest elites. She'd always felt so safe around him, that his power would protect her from the world. Drawing herself back and making herself more comfortable in his lap, she felt the hand along her naval streak up her sides, a hiss being released instead of a moan as he pressed a single kiss along the inside of her neck. Chaste and encouraging, how she yearned for him to just spin her around and start to ravage her! But it was for naught to be as she brewed on locations. Her mind, tainted as it was, first thought of winter locals, but then she imagined her beloved professor in less clothing instead of more.

She swallowed, thinking about the musculature she could only fantasize about during lonely nights, and of dreams that felt so real and lively; the brutal tutoring, the summoning of shadows that tormented her mind, yet it was always a single man who would save her from her nightmares.

"Perhaps somewhere south?" She mused, trying to not gasp as his hand came close to cupping her breast.

She shivered at the vibration that spilled into her bones from his chest, "How about the Caribbean?" He mused, "Lovely place that is." He chuckled.

Licking her lips she nodded once, already thinking about the racy and utterly devious outfits within the magazines her professor had sent her. How scandalous had her collection grown, full of muggle clothing ideas, yet the results. She nearly moaned as she thought of the ways her professor's gaze would linger on her form, appraising, and then approving. Or maybe that was the hand that was cupping her hip, a few fingers digging into her sensitive posterior. The crack of a lash, a firm hand's whack, or the soft lips of her precious professor all forbidden and taboo ideas that raced through her corrupted mind. Then she felt teeth along her neck, lips softly suckling at the bared flesh that resided there, she leaned back hands gripping her chair as she hissed; desperately wishing for something to please this burning need inside her.

"Do you need anything?" Professor Kampf asked her softly.

"N-nothing you couldn't make."

"Hmm, then let's go."

They vanished in fractal shards of reality.