A Life Half Lived

The next month passed in a whirl – between the parties and the planning neither Snape nor Morgan got much chance to slow down. Each social event brought them closer into the circle that was centered on Hawden. Each time they met him, his hints became more and more broad, and they agreed that whilst some of the hints were related to their work, the other ones were definitely distasteful to them both.

Morgan felt that the operation was going well. Already there had been arrests because of information they had gathered. The net was drawing closer and closer. She felt a surge of exultation as she closed in on her prey.

Snape didn’t know where they had to be, or whether the gathering would be magical or Muggle half the time, but he did know that he was enjoying himself. He enjoyed the matching of wits against their enemies. It was certainly different to his usual assignments for Dumbledore, and he enjoyed that difference.

He agreed with Morgan that they were getting closer to the final stage of the plan, and he felt disappointment that their partnership would end shortly after that.

All because of her.

He found that he could tell where she was in a room without even catching sigf hef her. Found that he was able to read her body language, and realized with shock that she could also read his.

More and more though, he found himself loving their conversations. When they would talk for hours about nothing and everything. Or the silences, when they spent time just reading. He had been pleased to find that she was as voracious a reader as he himself was.

Their interests also merged in the areas of logic puzzles and crosswords. Pity she was so atrocious at them.

Occasionally they would go to a movie, and he was surprised to find himself enjoying those movies (and once caught himself in an argument with her about the type of movie they would see).

He also found himself carrying two or three extra handkerchiefs. Morgan had the most endearing habit of sobbing throughout movies, and inevitably had no hankie. He found the extra handkerchiefs were a small price to pay to avoid having his sleeve drenched.

He did object, however, when she started to cry when watching commercials on TV for long distance telephone calls. That he felt, was just plain irrational.

And all the time, each touch sent fire through them both.

Each time he put his arm around her (and it had become their “trademark” when his hand slipped inside her dress when he put his arm around her) and felt her relax into his side, he fought down his desire. He fought down the thought that this was where she belonged.

Her skin was like white silk, and he wanted to explore every part of it.

For her part, Morgan was surprised at how “right” it felt being with him. Surprised at how well she seemed to fit into his body, always feeling comfort and gaining strength from his presence.

It disturbed her, yet she welcomed the feeling.

And both of them refused to admit their mutual attraction.

All too quickly, the summer was coming to a close. They knew when school started, he would have to apparate between London and Hogwarts on weekends, and had arranged for that.

Nobody would take any notice of it, but it would slow down their plans.

And Morgan found herself missing him already. Wondering how lonely she would be during the week. Finding that his presence in her home had become the most natural thing in the world.

She enjoyed their arguments. She accused him of leaving the toilet seat up – he accused her of using his razor to shave her legs. Neither could agree on where to squeeze a tube of toothpaste.

For himself, Severus Snape wondered what Harry Potter and Sirius Black would say if they knew that they had been dropped off his top five list of dislikes. Hinneinned to himself as he wondered what their reaction would be to know that they had been pushed down the line by Supermarkets and Soap Operas!

Morgan found herself deliberately provoking arguments just for the enjoyment of it, and found that he also seemed to enjoy the more absurd of their arguments.

Both had thoroughly enjoyed the passionate argument they had had about the silly spells used in the TV show “Bewitched”, then had both pulled up short when they realized that what they really wanted was each other.

They had stopped, panting, and Morgan had seen in his eyes the desire that matched her own. The knowledge that they both wanted this argument to end in bed, the passion of sex taking over from the passion of their words.

Both had been terrified at the realization, and they had separated hastily, each seeking their own room. Each spending a sleepless night trying to reconcile their feelings with their fears. Neither willing to admit that they were terrified of and yet yearned for those feelings.

Things came to a head the night before he had to go back to Hogwarts. It was stinking hot, and Morgan had just stepped out of a cold shower. She slipped on a pair of shorts and a cotton shirt, not bothering to button it up, simply tying it firmly under her breasts, and wandered into the kitchen in search of a cool drink.

She gratefully drank a glass of iced water and refilled her glass. She carried it over to the couch and sprawled at full length on it.

Refreshed by her shower and the cold drink, she drifted off to sleep, squirming around on the couch to get comfortable.

Forgetting that, for the moment, she did not live alone. Not realizing that her movements had opened the shirt, rendering the coverage it gave useless.

And that was how Snape found her when he walked in, hot and tired. Frustrated because thereld bld be a delay in obtaining some of the ingredients he would need for his classes.

At first he did not notice the sleeping woman, and headed towards the kitchen for a cold drink. He turned from the refrigerator (how he loved that particular Muggle device) with the jug of iced water in his hand, and saw her asleep.

He put the jug down heavily and walked over to the couch. At first, he gazed at her face, relaxed in sleep, and looking innocent. And still with that elusive familiarity. Something about her that he should remember. Should know.

Something to do with Pilar, he thought, as he remembered his surprise when she had been named as a godmother to one of Pilar and Remus’ twin daughters. Of course, that was nothing compared to his own shock when he had been asked to be godfather to young Heather Lupin.

He looked at her again, seeking answers on her face, and, for the moment, finding none.

Then he noticed the open shirt and caught his breath. Oh Morgan, he thought, how beautiful you are. And how I want you.

He gazed down at her, and she opened her eyes, as if feeling his gaze on her. Her eyelids were heavy with sleep, and she smiled. “I was dreaming about you,” she said lazily as she stretched, and he watched, mouth dry, as her movements lifted her breasts.

At her words, he walked around the couch, and knelt beside her, unable to help himself. “Were you?”

“Hmmm.”

His hands seemed to have a mind of their own, and he began to stroke her breasts. “Was it a nice dream?” he asked, unable to stop himself, needing to know if her dreams of him were as good as the ones he had about her.

“Very nice,” she said lazily, arching her back into his touch.

Snape gazed at her, his hands continuing their rhythmical stroking. “That’s nice,” he said absently. “You have the most magnificent breasts,” he said, his stroking becoming more urgent. He bent his head and took one into his mouth, and felt her sigh as he did so.

He felt himself harden as he suckled her breasts, first one then the other. Morgan’s breath was coming spasmodically as she felt the sensations of his mouth on her. She felt his hands stroking her waist, moving up and down her sides, and then stroking her breasts as he gazed at her.

She wanted him to kiss her. Wanted him to make love to her. Instead, he bent his head again to her breasts, and she was lost.

Lost in the delicious feel of his mouth, his hands. Her own hands reached for him, trying to draw him closer, wanting to feel his body, but he avoided her. Instead, her hands fell onto his shoulders, and she moaned as his mouth became more insistent.

She felt him move, and felt his hand come to rest on her hip, pressing down and she raised her hips, wanting his hand to do more than rest there, wanting to feel his fingers and more inside her.

Instead, there was just the light pressure, and the wonderful feel of his mouth on her breasts.

Suddenly, her groping hand found him, felt his erection though his trousers, and she began to stroke and rub him, fumbling for the zip on his trousers to release him. His head rose as he gasped, and their eyes met.

Desire meeting desire. He leant towards her, and seemed to catch himself just before he kissed her.

If I don’t kiss her, he thought, I can keep in control.

His head bent towards her breasts again, his mind refusing to believe that he had already fought a losing battle for control. Morgan moaned even harder, and she finally managed to open his trousers, feeling his bare flesh in her hand. His mouth became more urgent, and she felt his reaction to their bare flesh touching.

She knew that she was a sucker for this. She wondered how he had known how much she enjoyed having her breasts suckled. The reaction she always had, how it would drive her to climax. She felt the familiar feelings race through her, and her hips moved again, trying to make his hand press more firmly into her.

His free hand moved, and he rubbed a finger under her bottom lip. Her tongue came out, swiping it. Then he moved the same hand to her breasts, the finger stroking along their underside, lightly pressing on each nipple.

Morgan gasped, her stroking of his erection pausing with her reaction. She immediately started again, her stroking firmer, feeling enjoyment of this activity. Her own free hand, she cupped under one breast, supporting it as he lowered his head again.

Her hand moved from her breast to behind his head, holding him in place as he worked. Morgan was lost in the licking and sucking feelings, and her own stroking of him becoming more frenzied.

They were both moaning now, their breathing labored, and his hand on her hip also started to move, to stroke her in time with the movements of her hips.

It seemed to go on for eternity, both completely absorbed, until their mutual climaxes caught them both by surprise and brought them back to their surroundings.

Snape lifted his head suddenly, shocked by his own actions, embarrassed by what she had done to him, wondering how he must look. Embarrassed by the evidence of his pleasure splashed on her arm, staining the couch and rug.

Morgan gazed up at him, her own eyes full of desire, and saw with pleasure the same desire in his. She moved, intending to surrender herself to this man, when she saw his face change.

He stood and looked down at the woman on the couch, her whole body showing her desire. His face darkened as he realized how he had lost control of himself. How he had taken advantage of this woman, and fumbled with his clothing, trying desperately to cover himself.

Feeling disgusted with himself, he turned abruptly and left the room.

Morgan sat up and watched him leave, her heart turning over with despair. She had seen the disgust in his eyes replace the desire, and thought that it had been disgust of her.

She had to get out of there. Had to get somewhere she could be away from him.

Hastily, Morgan stood and went into her bedroom, changing to a simple shift. She needed her older sister – either one would do. Then remembered – Lucius. She could not go to Narcissa. That left her with only one choice. Pilar and Remus. Morgan gave a sob, and disappeared.