Star Sisters

Chapter VII: Innocence Lost

‘This room is amazing! A jukebox! I can’t believe it!’

The Room of Requirement had certainly outdone itself once more. Not only did it provide ice cream and chocolate in every flavour the girls could possibly think of, but there actually was – as Charis had pointed out correctly – a beautiful 1950s Wurlitzer jukebox, loaded with at least five hundred songs. And the most astonishing thing was that the Muggle device was actually working!

‘Oh, you will love this, Morgana,’ Charis exclaimed, already flipping through the choice of songs. ‘I know just the song that will cheer you up.’

When Love Potion Number Nine started playing, a smile flitted over Morgana’s lips. But it disappeared almost too fast for anyone to notice. She didn’t feel like smiling, hadn’t done so all day.

She had awoken with a massive, migraine-like headache. And when she had attempted to get out of bed, the room had started to spin, and she had almost thrown up. Poppy had tried to make her take some of the potion that was standing on the nightstand, but Morgana had refused and told the medi-witch that she was alright. She couldn’t tell Poppy why she didn’t want to take the potion. She wasn’t sure herself. All she knew was that a bubble of panic had risen in her chest the moment she had recognised Snape’s handwriting on the phial.

The feeling had increased over the day. Every time somebody mentioned Professor Snape’s name, Morgana flinched. She didn’t know why, but she had the ominous felling that Snape was up to no good, that he was about to hurt her in some way, that he was about to harm ... Lucius.

Lucius Malfoy. That was yet another name that gave Morgana a headache, but in a different way. Since her eyes had fallen on the ring Lucius had gifted her the night before, she had been longing for him, yearning even. She wanted to lie in his arms, wanted him to kiss her, caress her, even ... yes, she wanted him to take her, wanted to give herself to him. Body, heart and soul. And although something deep inside her told her that this was profoundly wrong, she could not help herself.

Charis was now dancing to Sympathy for the Devil, but her eyes were on her best friend who was leaning against the wall, arms crossed in front of her chest, her brow furrowed and her thoughts seemingly far, far away. Charis could understand that Morgana wasn’t in a dancing mood today, not after everything that had happened the day before. But she still didn’t like the dark look on her friend’s face. Nor did she like the things she had heard Morgana say during the day.

They had started talking almost the moment Morgana had woken up, and Charis had made a shocking discovery: her friend’s emotions seemed to have made a complete U-turn. While she had shown nothing but disgust for Lucius Malfoy only twenty-four hours ago, she seemed to be yearning for him now. And Severus Snape, the man she had desired for over a year, had somehow turned into her Boggart. She flinched at his name and even refused to use the potion he had brought her.

This development in Morgana’s feelings had scared Charis, and she had taken her friend to Dumbledore. The Headmaster had listened, and he had made Morgana promise that she would not – under any circumstances – contact Lucius Malfoy and that she would inform either him or her Head of House if Malfoy tried to contact her. Morgana had looked the Headmaster in the eye and had said that she understood. But Charis was afraid that her friend herself didn’t know whether or not she was lying.

‘You are not going to dance with me, are you, Morgana?’ Charis asked, swaying her hips, although she knew what the answer would be. And she got it straight away.

‘You know that I don’t dance, Charis.’ Morgana did not even turn to look at her friend. Her eyes were still attached to something outside in the darkness.

Charis pouted. ‘Not even with me?’ she asked. ‘Not even if I’ve got you a present?’

She retrieved two necklaces from her pocket and held them under Morgana’s nose. ‘I made them this afternoon while Poppy was giving you a check-up,’ she explained. ‘I took my favourite pair of earrings – silver stars of course – and put them on two necklaces. Then I charmed them.’

Charis was beaming at her friend now. She was very proud of what she had accomplished. She had an O in Charms for a reason. ‘Look, if you squeeze your star, mine will glow green. And if I squeeze mine, yours will glow blue. That way we can contact each other whenever we feel like it. And if you are ever in peril, if you squeeze it and say the word help, it will glow red.’

Charis demonstrated enthusiastically as Morgana smirked at her. Then she put one of the necklaces around Morgana’s neck. ‘It looks pretty on you.’

Morgana looked down at her chest. ‘Now this day will go down in history as the day when Morgana Belakane started wearing jewellery. First the ring and now a necklace.’

Charis frowned. ‘Don’t you like it?’ It was not an expensive gift. Just a thin silver chain with an old silver earring on it, nothing that could be compared to the ornate, expensive ring Morgana was wearing at her left hand. But Charis had hoped it would make Morgana smile.

‘Of course I like it, sweetie,’ Morgana started. ‘It’s just ...’ Well, exactly what was it? What was it that made it so damn hard to say thank you and give her best friend a hug? Why could she not just accept that little gesture of kindness?

Morgana’s thoughts were disturbed by an impatient pecking noise against the glass of the window. Out there on the windowsill sat a beautiful silvery-grey owl, carrying a long, narrow box.

Charis opened the window and petted the owl. ‘It’s for you,’ she pointed out as she took the package from the bird and read the card that was attached to it.

Morgana didn’t need to be told. She had recognised the handwriting on the card at once. And her heart had skipped a beat.

‘Lucius,’ she murmured and reached out for the package.

Charis put her hand on her friend’s arm. ‘Morgana, I am not sure you should open this,’ she said warningly. ‘Not after ...’

‘And why not?’ Morgana snapped. ‘Do you have any idea how tired I am of everyone trying to make Lucius look bad? You, Dumbledore, Snape.’ The Potions master’s name tasted bitter on her tongue. ‘Can’t at least you be happy that once in my life something nice is happening to me? That someone cares about me?’

Charis withdrew her hand. ‘We are worried about you, Morgana. We don’t want anything bad happening to you. And Lucius Malfoy ... Morgana, you know what he is capable of!’

Charis didn’t say more. It was highly unfair of Morgana to make it sound as if no one ever cared about her. Charis for one cared deeply for her, always had, always would. And now she was endlessly worried about her best friend. But she held her peace. The last thing she wanted was to fight with Morgana.

Morgana had picked up the package and was now busying herself with opening it, keeping her eyes resolutely on her own hands. She had not meant to snap at Charis. She knew very well that the other girl only had her best interest in mind. She also knew that Charis, Dumbledore and Snape were right about Lucius Malfoy. He was dangerous. And Morgana knew all but too well what kind of cruelties he was capable of.

‘Roses,’ she stated as she opened the package. Seven long-stemmed, blood-red roses. And there was a tiny card attached to them, carrying Lucius’ artistic, slender handwriting.

Darling Morgana,

The summer is long gone, and the weather is colder. And so is the Manor since you have left: a cold and lonely place.

I am longing for you.

Lucius

Morgana let her fingers caress the flowers and smiled. No one had ever given her roses before. No one had ever longed for her before.

‘They’re beautiful,’ Charis exclaimed.

Morgana quickly stuffed the card into her pocket and looked up at her friend, feeling slightly guilty. She had really not meant to yell at her. Charis meant well, and she knew that.

She touched her necklace and smiled, pushing the roses away. ‘Roses wither, Charis. And they are nowhere near as beautiful as this necklace.’

And Charis accepted her friend’s apology with a small smile.

Over the next hour, they emptied half a bucket of ice-cream and listened to more Muggle tunes. And Charis danced and sang, but did not make Morgana join her. She could see that her friend was tired and in no mood to dance or discuss her feelings for Lucius Malfoy any further.

‘You should go to bed,’ she suggested as she flopped onto the couch beside Morgana. ‘I might just stay here all night. I am having way too much fun to stop. And besides, dancing is a great workout. Heaven knows I need it after all that ice cream!’

She was already up and dancing to Alice Cooper again when Morgana left. And she never saw the frown on the Slytherin’s face when Cooper sang about poison running through his veins.

* * *
Charis began to sway her hips rhythmically to the seductive beat as the jukebox once again whirled into action. She loved to dance, and she found it liberating, a way of losing herself totally. When she immersed herself in music, she didn’t think about homework, or her blood status, or her NEWTs, or even the embarrassing incidents with the sulky Potions master. It was just her and the music flowing through her.

Wanting. Needing. Waiting. For you, to justify my love.

Madonna’s whispered, husky, urgent vocals gave Charis the urge to touch herself, and soon she was running her hands down her body, tracing her narrow waist, the swell of her breasts, the whole time her hips swaying sensuously. She danced with her eyes closed, gyrating in time, and was so lost in the music that she never even noticed she had an observer.

Severus Snape stood watching the girl dance provocatively, blissfully unaware of his presence. His eyes widened as he saw her perform wanton moves that were far beyond her years. She had taken off her school robes and was wearing a Muggle T-shirt that was far too tight, far too revealing, far too ... adult. It accentuated the soft curve of her waist, her breasts ...

Snape felt the blood pump through his veins as he saw Charis grab her behind with both hands and lean forwards, only to undulate her body upwards again in a smooth, delicate action. He sneered. This was the third time in two days that she had managed to arouse him, whilst not even going out of her way to do so. What was it about her that made him react in such a manner?

His bulge was now straining through the buttons of his robes as he approached her silently. She was a young woman now, there was absolutely no doubt of that. And who would have guessed the usually demure Ravenclaw could harbour such lurid fantasies about him, could have such vivid and explicit dreams, and could dance so gratuitously? To hell with good intentions and school rules. He knew that she wanted him, and it had been far too long since he had tasted a woman. He felt his breath become shallow as he was mere inches away from the girl, her hips swaying the whole time. And without warning, he grabbed her hips and pulled her towards his crotch.

Charis gasped, and her eyes snapped open as she felt the erection press against her buttocks. She flicked her face to the side and was met with the sight of Snape’s onyx eyes glittering back at her, and she was captured in his gaze. How he had found her in the Room of Requirement, she did not know. In fact, at this point in time, she did not know anything. All rational thought had left her. The only things she could focus on were the hypnotic music, those black eyes, and the thick bulge pressing urgently at her behind.

‘Five points from Ravenclaw for lewd behaviour,’ Snape breathed, grinding gently against her and never breaking eye contact.

Charis was so shocked and aroused, she could only gaze back. At first, she found herself unable to move, but after a few moments in which she had contemplated if she was actually dreaming or not, she began to grind her hips in time with him. A small grunt told her that Snape was really, really enjoying this.

She shivered as his breath tickled her ear.

‘Did I not tell you that I hoped for your sake your dream did not come true?’ he whispered as one hand slipped up her skirt, to her thigh, and found the hot, damp material between her legs.

Charis shuddered with pleasure at his touch and whimpered, pushing back against him involuntarily.

‘Do you like being touched, Ms Byrne?’ he whispered softly, his voice as gentle as his caress.

‘Oh yes, sir,’ she managed to reply as he began tracing little circles with his fingertips over the cotton covering her core. His touch was exactly as she had imagined it so many times, and it sent jolts of pleasure through her body.

As Snape bent his head to rub his nose against her neck, Charis’ nostrils were filled with his musky scent – spice, chilli, dark chocolate and musk, all rolled into one. And the very scent made her breath become shallow.

‘Tell me how it makes you feel,’ Snape insisted, now pressing his lips against the sensitive skin behind her ears.

‘It makes me feel ... vulnerable, and a little scared, but tingly, like every nerve is on fire.’ Charis breathed. She could hear the tremble in her voice and knew Snape could, too.

‘I see.’

His free hand now began to slide up over her hip, her belly, until it found one of her breasts. He squeezed it gently, feeling her nipple jutting out through her T-Shirt, his other hand circling relentlessly on top of her knickers. Once more he leant in, his breath tickling her neck.

‘Would you come for me if I asked you to, Ms Byrne?’

‘Yes, sir,’ Charis replied, her breath hitching in her throat. Yes, oh, Goddess, yes. That and much more. That and anything else he asked of her.

Snape knew that she was helpless in her lust for him. And the sense of power it gave him to have that control of her almost made him as giddy as the rose-scented fragrance she was wearing. It was like a drug, that high of control, of power, coupled with her complete physical craving for him. He had never known anything quite so intoxicating.

‘Look at me,’ he suddenly whispered, cupping her face with his fingers.

He needed to see that look of wanting, that look of pure desire in her green eyes. That look he had yearned for, for so long. He hungered for it, and she gave it so honestly. That very look he wished Lily would have given him with her green eyes. The look of lust. The look of need.

Every one of his nerve endings was burning with raw passion, and he inched his face forward, just enough so their lips brushed. The girls’ breath was sweet, the tang of her arousal almost palpable. In just a few short seconds, he would surely claim her mouth greedily and then take her right there, just as she wanted him to. And he would not care that she was his student and he her teacher. He would take her because he could and because they both wanted to.

He was just about to tease her lips open when he saw something red flash at her throat, and he pulled away. The sudden disruption had made him snap out of the haze of lust. For heaven’s sake, this girl was not Lily! She was his student! And he had almost ...

He was just about to deliver a nasty comment to drive the girl away when he noticed that she looked terrified. Her hands were shaking, and her gaze was attached to the star that was dangling at her neck, glowing red as blood.

‘It’s Morgana,’ she whispered breathlessly. ‘She’s in danger!’