Star Sisters

Chapter XIV: Should Old Acquaintance Be Forgot

Charis and Blaise were met by the Heads of Houses standing by the door, welcoming the students as they arrived. Dumbledore was wearing deep purple robes trimmed with silver, looking very festive. McGonagall was in deep crimson tartan, her hands clasped together. Tiny Flitwick was in deep blue, bobbing excitedly. And Sprout was looking unusually resplendent in old gold and had even scrubbed the habitual soil from underneath her fingernails. Snape, meanwhile, was wearing the darkest of lustrous black velvets, scowling.

‘Welcome, welcome, all you lovely young people,’ Dumbledore greeted them with a crinkly smile and his arms open wide as the students flowed through into the pub.

‘Miss Byrne, lovely as always,’ he said kindly as he nodded at Zabini, who nodded back politely.

‘Thank you, sir.’ Charis smiled back warmly and then giggled as Zabini pinched her bum. She dared to cast a glance at Snape, whose scowl had reached new depths of blackness.

‘Good evening, Professor,’ she said politely, flashing him a sweet smile. Snape was not going to ruin her evening!

‘Good is relative, Miss Byrne,’ he growled. ‘So, Slytherins are still acceptable company to you then, I see?’

Charis looked affronted for a moment, her smile faltering. Any Slytherin who doesn't think I am dirt on their shoe will always be acceptable to me, she thought, looking at him coldly.

‘I advise you not to judge those in my House too quickly, Miss Byrne,’ he continued, as if reading her mind.

Charis did not have chance to contemplate his words before Zabini dragged her onto the dance floor with cheerful, ‘Come on, pussy cat!’

‘Coming, big boy,’ she replied, looking over her shoulder quickly at Snape as Blaise pulled her into the middle of the dance floor and wrapped his arms around her waist.

Snape stood for several minutes, watching them dance, laugh and kiss, and his black eyes burned fiercely. Yes, there were snakes of pure jealousy writhing in his belly. That girl was HIS! Even though he could not return her feelings and despite his better judgement, he did relish the girl’s passion for him. In his private moments he had replayed the highly charged incidents that had happened between them, and he found that his body responded to them just as it had then. The girl, as much as he tried to deny it, aroused him, and he hated seeing a mere boy pawing her for all to see.

Snape saw Charis throw back her head and laugh once more and decided he had seen enough. Jaw clenched, he stalked off towards the bar for a glass of Firewhisky, where he was greeted by none other than the Headmaster, who was smiling serenely.

‘Isn't it lovely how happy they all are?’ the old man asked, tilting his hand in the direction of the dancing students.

‘Thrilling,’ Snape replied in a deadpan voice, plucking a tumbler of Firewhisky from the side.

‘And there are even some inter-house pairings,’ Dumbledore continued happily. ‘Lovely. Lovely indeed.’

At this comment, Snape’s expression looked as if it could turn milk sour.

The Headmaster turned to his Potions master, checking out his immaculate dress robes. ‘And black is festive ... how again, Severus?’ he asked jovially.

‘Black is not the absence of colour as most people mistakenly seem to think. Rather, it is the amalgamation of all colours, Headmaster,’ he replied tartly.

‘Ah. Of course,’ Dumbledore replied with twinkling eyes. ‘You do stand out like a sore thumb, though,’ he admonished gently.

Snape raised a sinister eyebrow, his voice heavy with irony. ‘And what colour do you suggest I wear? A soft peach, maybe? A rose blush? A delicate lilac?’

‘Peppermint green,’ the old man replied in a dreamy voice.

Snape looked at the Headmaster as if he was in some way mentally impaired before shaking his head and taking a big swig of Firewhisky. Maybe Lucius was right. Maybe the old man was indeed losing his marbles.

A shriek, followed by a giggle, made both teachers look to the dance floor, where Zabini was happily sinking his teeth in Charis' neck.

‘Ah, to be young again ...’ mused Dumbledore, misty-eyed.

‘Surely, such behaviour is vastly inappropriate, Headmaster!’ Snape protested, almost spilling Firewhisky down his robes.

‘I find it delightful. Just look how everybody is having fun!’ Once more the old man smiled contentedly and stroked his beard.

Snape watched as Charis' hand slipped down and slowly brushed against Zabini's groin. The action sent a shock of arousal through him and a surge of jealousy and annoyance simultaneously.

‘I do not think that such behaviour is appropriate for a school party, Headmaster,’ he persisted through gritted teeth.

‘I am sure you will be capable of keeping a lid on it, if it appears to get out of control, Severus,’ Dumbledore replied calmly.

‘Oh, I can assure you of that, Headmaster.’ And with that, Snape stomped off towards the dance floor in a swirl of black velvet.

‘Zabini, a word!’ he growled, casting a scowl at Charis.

Charis flushed slightly and scowled back at her stern teacher for interrupting her snogging session.

‘Yes, sir?’ Zabini asked innocently, but Snape was already stalking off and the boy had no choice but to follow his Head of House.

‘Fuck that old bat!’ Zabini cursed as he squeezed Charis' bottom. ‘Wait for me upstairs once the others have gone, alright?’

‘I'll be there,’ she breathed, giving him a last peck on the lips.

She watched as Zabini ran after Snape, making flapping movements with his arms to imitate Snape's billowing robes, and she giggled.

‘Having fun, are we?’

Charis span around to find her best friend in a short black velvet dress with her best Snape imitation: eyebrow raised and her hands on her hips.

‘Morgana! You look amazing!’ Charis hugged her friend who, for once, accepted with a smile.

‘And so do you, little Ravenclaw. I see your beau is getting you into trouble already,’ she said lightly.

‘I’m not letting Snape spoil my evening,’ Charis replied through gritted teeth. ‘The music is really good though! Apparently, the DJ is a distant cousin of the Weasleys.’

‘Is there anyone they aren’t related to?’ Morgana replied, rolling her eyes. ‘It’s a shame the Weasley boys aren’t here this evening though. Doesn’t seem like a party without them.’

‘True,’ Charis agreed, ‘Although not having Malfoy and his henchmen here is a blessed relief.’

‘You can say that again, sis. There are already far too many odious Slytherin males here without that gruesome threesome. And don’t you just love the idea that Malfoy is sitting in the library now, studying, when we are having fun? Say whatever you want about Malfoy senior, but that man knows how to dish out a decent punishment.’

Charis giggled. ‘Well, seeing as my dancing partner is currently out of action, it looks as if you’re going to be dancing with me tonight after all, Morgana!’

‘I am so not dancing with ANYONE,’ Morgana said firmly, jutting her chin out.

‘Oh, don't be a prude!’ Charis begged.

‘I hate dancing,’ her friend grumbled.

‘If you can't even dance with your best friend ...’ Charis pretended to look hurt and fixed Morgana with her big, sad, green eyes.

Morgana just gazed back coolly. ‘I. Will. Not. Dance.’

‘You're a complete killjoy,’ Charis huffed.

‘I don't dance, period,’ Morgana sniffed, folding her arms across her chest.

‘BORING!’ Charis replied before bopping to the Human League.

Morgana merely raised an eyebrow, shaking her head.

Huge trays filled with delicious-looking canapés floated past, suspended by Madam Rosmerta, who was weaving in and out of the crowd, and Morgana grabbed a handful, watching her friend swinging her hips, eyes shut, having a whale of time.

‘I do hope you can keep your tongue to yourself for the rest of the evening, Miss Byrne.’ The low drawl of Severus Snape made Charis’ eyes snap open, and she bit her lip nervously. ‘One slip-up is forgivable; two is a sign of stupidity.’

Luckily, Madam Rosmerta heard this comment as she made her way past and came to Charis’ rescue. ‘Now, Severus, behave. Remember what it said on the invitation: ‘Teachers are allowed if they play NICELY.’

Charis smiled at Rosmerta gratefully as Snape fixed her with his beetle-black eyes.

‘Keep an eye on those two,’ he muttered, out of earshot of the girls.

‘As you wish, Severus,’ Rosmerta replied as Snape turned on his heel and stalked to the bar.

‘Don't worry about him, kids,’ she said kindly. ‘He'll be holding on to a bottle of Odgen's for the rest of the night.’

‘Great food, Roz,’ said Morgana, helping herself to more snacks.

Rosmerta beamed. ‘Thanks, lovely. Help yourself. There’s plenty for everyone.’ And with that, the curvy landlady made her way back through the throng, plates suspended carefully over the crowds’ heads.

It was hot here on the dance floor, and Morgana suddenly wondered if wearing velvet had been a wise choice. She decided to retire to the bar and grab a Butterbeer to cool down.

As she was waiting to be served, she watched Charis happily dancing on her own to Groove Is In The Heart, and she smiled. Her Ravenclaw friend must be the sweetest girl on the planet.

She was just contemplating joining her after all when, from out of absolutely nowhere, Albus Dumbledore appeared on the dance floor, throwing shapes like a man demented. And Morgana couldn’t help but laugh as she saw Charis grinning and grooving away with the Headmaster.

‘Aren’t they cute?’ she asked with a huge grin that made her blue eyes sparkle.

Snape, who was standing beside her at the bar, just sneered and shook his head. ‘Gryffindors and Ravenclaws, Miss Belakane. They have not an ounce of shame in their bodies. And the Headmaster looks like he is having a fit.’

‘I think,’ Morgana said, her grin – if possible – growing even wider, ‘that this was a common form of dancing back in the nineteenth century when our Headmaster was still the king of the dance floor.’

Snape snorted. ‘And what, Miss Belakane, would you know about the topic of dancing? I for one cannot recall having seen you on the dance floor.’

With a loud thud, Morgana put down her bottle on the counter. ‘What is it with people today?’ she snapped, every trace of a grin gone from her face. ‘Is it that unusual for a girl not to dance?’

‘It most certainly is,’ Snape replied, raising an eyebrow at his student’s little outburst. ‘As is you drinking alcohol.’

Morgana sighed heavily and brought her hand to her neck to rub her aching muscles. ‘I ... I haven’t been myself lately,’ she started. ‘Ever since that afternoon at Malfoy Manor I feel ... mentally drained. I lose my patience very easily, I snap at people.’

Hell, Charis has accused me of turning into you, she thought.

Snape fixed her with a searching look. ‘This has been a stressful term for you, Miss Belakane. You have been drugged, deceived and have had your mind invaded in a most despicable way. It is natural that you feel worn out. This is why it is crucial that you learn how to control your emotions and shield yourself from others. Are you familiar with Occlumency?’

Morgana shrugged. ‘I have read books about it. But I find it hard to grasp.’

‘Naturally.’ Snape emptied his glass and turned his full attention onto Morgana. ‘If you do not learn how to control your mind, you will end up mad. Therefore, I suggest that you make closing your mind your uttermost priority from now on.’

Once more, Morgana rubbed her neck. ‘It is hard, sir. Ever since Lucius touched my mind, I have felt exposed. It is almost as if I am carrying around my mind in a glass jar and everyone can look at it. I am trying not to let myself feel, to lock away my emotions. But it still seems like they’re right on the surface.’

‘Again, this is natural, Miss Belakane.’ Snape’s voice was low and calm. This wasn’t a topic he wanted to discuss in public, but the girl was obviously struggling. ‘Tell me, when you are trying to shield off your emotions, what method do you choose? Do you see a door slam shut? A blind coming down, maybe?’

‘There is mist,’ Morgana replied, her voice somewhat shaky. ‘Black mist.’

Snape frowned. He had seen that mist. The night he had driven Lucius from the girl’s mind, he had been slashing through that mist, trying to reach her mind himself. So she had been trying to defend herself then.

‘This might not be the right technique for you, Miss Belakane,’ he went on. ‘Try experimenting. Some people imagine snow, others the blackness of space, yet others a brick wall. Whatever method you choose, it will have to be your own, personal projection.’

‘What if I cannot do it, sir?’

‘Practice, Miss Belakane.’ Snape didn’t like the vulnerable look on the girl’s face, but lending comfort had never been one of his talents. Therefore, he carried on in the same matter-of-of fact tone he used in class. ‘Practice and you will find your method. And once it clicks, you will be able to summon your Occlumency faster and easier until it is like second nature to you.’

Morgana nodded and seemed to contemplate his words for a few moments. Then Snape saw a smile flit over her lips. ‘I still don’t have to dance, do I, sir?’

‘No one is forcing you, Miss Belakane. Well, maybe one person.’

And Morgana never stood a chance when Charis grabbed her hand and dragged her onto the dance floor.

Snape smirked and put his empty glass onto the counter, where it was promptly refilled by Rosmerta.

‘Cute thing, that one,’ she said, nodding into Morgana’s direction. ‘Your House, I suppose?’

Snape gave a non-committal grunt.

‘Really sweet,’ Rosmerta went on. ‘Seems lonely, though. I have the feeling that her House mates are giving her a hard time.’

Snape scowled. ‘What goes on in my House is none of your concern, Rosmerta.’

The landlady raised her hands in a defensive gesture. ‘I’m just saying ... but you’re right, it’s none of my business.’

She pushed the glass of Odgen’s into Snape’s direction. ‘You should relax, Severus. It’s a party.’

Snape snorted. He would rather be at the Dark Lord’s birthday celebration sucking Skrewt dung from his shoes than to be here watching hormonal teenagers snog and make fools out of themselves. It was a disgrace really. Now even Belakane was dancing! Although, she and her Ravenclaw friend were the only couple on the dance floor that did not make him want to vomit. And if Snape was completely honest with himself, he had to admit that he found the sight of the two girls moving gracefully with each other rather ... alluring.

His musings were – unfortunately – interrupted by the DJ. ‘Now, all you wonderful people on the dance floor, there are going to be two more slow ones, and then we will have to say goodnight. Remember that you will have to be in bed by three o’clock. Each and everyone in their own bed, that is.’

Snape downed his Firewhisky and stalked out of the room. Slow songs implied slow dancing, and that implied more snogging. And that was really not something he wished to witness.

Outside in the dark corridor, he leant against the wall. He should have passed on that last Firewhisky. He rubbed his forehead and closed his eyes for a moment, wishing he was in his bed already.

‘Too much Firewhisky, sir?’

Snape’s eyes snapped open, and he caught sight of Morgana, who was leaning against the wall opposite him. Had he not noticed her or had she managed to sneak up on him?

‘Well observed, Miss Belakane,’ he growled. ‘Have five points for Slytherin.’

‘Five points?’ Morgana grinned. ‘Are you alright, sir?’

‘I will be once this infernal mush stops.’

Tears on My Pillow by Johnny Nash could be heard from the other room, and Snape groaned inwardly. He hated that song. He had danced to it just once. With Lily. She had loved it.

Morgana started to hum and tapped her foot. ‘It’s a cute song. Maybe one should take up dancing after all. I’ve been told that it is quite a normal pastime for girls my age.’

Snape looked at Morgana and found her smiling. Surely, the girl was not being flirty, now was she?

‘Are you asking me to dance, Miss Belakane?’ he murmured and saw her blush.

‘Well, I, um ... Yes, sir. I am.’

The cheek! But then again, why not? And despite himself, Snape pushed himself off from the wall and held out his hand.

The girl’s hand was clammy, but he grabbed it firmly and pulled her towards him in a fluid motion, wrapping his free arm around her.

‘The secret, Miss Belakane, is to relax,’ he told her as he started swaying slowly. ‘Relax and let me take the lead.’

He leant her back into a little dip and chuckled as her fingers dug into his biceps. ‘Really, Miss Belakane, do you think I would let you fall?’

‘No, sir,’ she breathed as he pulled her upright again. ‘Of course not.’

She seemed to relax a little, and Snape remembered another time she had been in his arms, remembered how sweet her lips had tasted and what delicious little moans had escaped from them. And he did not know if it was the Firewhisky or those memories that made him lean in and softly brush her lips with his.

The girl did not pull away, and as her lips parted, Snape let his tongue flick over them, ever so lightly, ever so quickly.

Morgana felt a shiver go down her spine. Snape had not as much as looked at her since that incident at Malfoy Manor, but today he had talked to her, given her advice. And now she was lying in his arms. She yielded to his kiss and felt herself being pulled closer, felt his tongue in her mouth and his hand at the back of her neck. And before she knew it, she found herself being pushed up against the wall, her left leg wrapped around his waist and his teeth nibbling at her neck.

The girl smelled of honey, and despite his better judgement, Snape attacked her neck with feverish kisses, grabbed her leg and ground himself against her, his erection straining against the velvet of his robes. She was young, she was willing, and she wanted him. And he was ready to give in. Right there in the dark corridor of the Three Broomsticks.

Then the music stopped and was replaced by another sound: creaking bedsprings and moaning, a giggle that sounded all too familiar. And it brought Snape right back to reality.

He freed himself from Morgana’s embrace and straightened his robes, not even able to bring himself to look at her. He should not have gone that far. He should not have touched her like that.

‘Back to Hogwarts with you right away,’ he hissed, cursing himself inwardly for drinking too much Firewhisky and for once more losing control.

But Morgana did not move. Surely, this could not be happening. Snape could not be sending her away once again. But he obviously was. In fact, he was already on his way to the stairs.

‘I said, go!’ he snapped at her once more. ‘Are you incapable of following simple orders, Miss Belakane?’

And with that, he rushed up the stairs, moving swiftly and stealthily as a cat, never noticing that Morgana slunk into the shadows instead of following his directions and returning to Hogwarts. Somehow, she was hoping that Snape would change his mind and finish what he had started with her.

When Snape had reached the door from behind which those incriminating noises were coming, he paused and listened. Which of those hormonal dunderheads were dim enough not to put a Silencing charm on the door when having sex in a pub full of teachers? He would take ten points for stupidity alone.

‘That’s right, Charis, spread yourself for me,’ the recognisable sound of Zabini’s voice purred as Charis’ unmistakable delicious moans made Snape tighten his fist around his wand in cold fury. Byrne, he thought. That little slut! How dare she?!

‘You have exactly ten seconds to dress before I hex this door off its hinges!’ Snape barked. ‘One, ...’

Zabini and Charis looked at each other, completely mortified for a second before springing in to action. It wasn’t an easy task to find all their clothes that lay scattered on the floor, but they were dressed by the time Snape reached eight and looked at each other nervously as he finished the countdown.

On ten, Snape burst through the door, anger burning in his onyx eyes.

‘Zabini! Couldn’t leave the girl alone, could you? Fifty points from Slytherin. Yes, my own House! And you will see me after lunch tomorrow, where your punishment for your inability to control your hormones will be dealt with in full. Now get out of my sight!’

Zabini didn’t need to be told twice and shot past his Head of House in a flurry of dishevelled green dress robes.

‘You disappoint me, Miss Byrne,’ Snape drawled in a low voice, stepping closer to Charis. ‘Messing with boys is stupid enough. Messing with a Slytherin is downright idiotic.’

Morgana shrunk back into the shadows as Zabini raced down the stairs and out of the back door as fast as his legs could carry him, leaving Snape and Charis alone. And when she heard the door slam, she cautiously crept up the stairs. She could hear Snape’s hushed voice and was desperate to know what trouble her friend was in now for her indiscretion. She was not, however, prepared for the sight that greeted her.

Snape had Charis by the waist, and she was now looking up at him with her big green eyes, her hands resting lightly on his chest.

‘I appear to have a weakness for Slytherin males, sir,’ she whispered.

‘Yes, so it appears.’

Charis gasped as Snape's black eyes burned into hers. And as is grip tightened on her, she could smell the Odgen’s on his breath.

‘Why would you play with boys, Miss Byrne,’ Snape snarled, ‘when you have known a real man’s touch?’

Morgana’s eyes widened in shock. Charis and Snape? They had actually had sex? It certainly explained the abnormally large number of snarky comments Charis had received from him during the evening plus his anger at Zabini.

Morgana could not bear to hear more, so she turned and snuck down the stairs as quickly and quietly as she could. She needed to get outside. Suddenly, the stale air of the pub was too oppressive, and she felt nauseous.

But that nausea quickly turned to rage as the cold night air hit her. So Snape had been leading them both on a merry dance, had he? And her best friend had not even told her they had slept together!

Morgana ground her teeth as the urge to hex something welled up inside her. Snape had toyed with her like a plaything, yet he had already made his choice. He had chosen Charis, once again!

The thought made Morgana feel like there were talons ripping at her stomach. Snape had pushed her away. He had pushed her away in order to run to her best friend. And there he was now, surely already between Charis’ thighs, fulfilling the promises he had been making to her less than half an hour ago.

Well, two could play that game. If Snape did not want her, she knew another wizard who would. And if Snape considered hurting and betraying people a sport, then she would beat him at his own game. And with a plan forming in her mind that would have made Salazar Slytherin himself shudder, Morgana turned on the spot and Apparated to Malfoy Manor.