Inappropriate Behavior

He walks in hidden shadows unknown except to a select few. Those who have held this position before him are nothing more than bleached bones. Like the shadows he is dark and silent moving. Stealthily, he knows each step like his own skin.

Unknown doors are pushed open as he gazes upon the beds of his charges. They are unchanged, the same as the night before. Goyle with his large hands wrapped possessively around Knott’s skinny frame, Draco nude on top of the duvet. Still young, though the buggery was not as evident in the fifth years’ dorm. Often he was a secret observer in the seventh years’ dormitory, watching the opera of flesh upon flesh, as young men took perverse pleasure from each other in the shadowed recesses.

Silently he glides into the chambers of the fairer sex. This is what he looks forward to the most. Young firm bodies, innocent childlike demeanors, Lolitas hidden beneath their guarded youth and his fetish to observe is assuaged.

Another would think it odd that these fragrant beauties sleep nude on top of their duvets, curtains opened as if in invitation. The dungeons are dank and chilly except in his house. A permanent warming charm has been carefully applied, for his pleasure. No need exists to hide such treasures from his appraising eyes.

His sensitive nose breathes deeply as he enters the seventh year girls’ dormitory. Perfume, sweat, the sweet-coppered scent of menses, and the musky odor of sex flood the air as raw lust pounds in his veins. Colors as varied as their personalities are splashed haphazardly against white sheets, whilst tangled limbs pale and soft, invite themselves to be stroked and cherished.

Lingering tonight is not an option. There are always new feasts to be had.

It has been a night of surprises. First the removal of the Head of Gryffindor, the disappearance of Hagrid and the request from selfself banished Hesterster to check in on the poor little Gryffindor fledglings.

Taking advantage of the rare treat, he slides into the hidden passages of Gryffindor Tower. The boys are tucked in their beds, the curtains drawn tightly. A quick spell reveals the hidden bodies behind the curtains, a faint glimmer of red here, and a splash of brown there.

He is disappointed as he enters the girls’ dorms. They too are hidden behind the heavy drapes, secure from the cold and his roving eyes. Success is his when he enters the fifth years girls’ dorm.

One occupant has not drawn the heavy curtains that keep out the chilled night air. She has left them opened to draw upon the full moonlight flooding over the floor and onto her face. Puffy and red, she has been crying, undoubtly mourning the loss of her mentor and Head of House. Bedclothes are twisted into a pile at the foot of the bed and the girl’s flannel gown has wrapped around her body until it looks painful in places. Tangled brown curls are spread over a pillow, whilst the glow from the moonlight reflecn thn the smooth ivory skin of one exposed thigh.

His eyes are transfixed on the smooth, rounded flesh, which only the young possess. A deep hunger erupts in his stomach as he watches her turn once again, the rumbled garment sliding up higher, revealing the curve of a supple, dimpled cheek. Eyes glittering, it is impossible to turn back from this sweet temptation. Unconsciously his right hand moves in a graceful arc, and the air is filled with soft magic as an invisible hand touchhe ahe alabaster skin just above the girl’s left knee. Skin shivers at the ghostly touch and the girl stirs once more, pulling the flannel completely up over a hip to wrap like an cinch around her waist.

Feasting on her dimpled cheek now fully exposed, the ghostly fingers moved to cup the fleshy skin, evoking a small whimper from the parted pink lips. The fingers then weave a trail up her body finding the smalarl arl buttons at her throat. Slowly deft magic opens the garment down to the waist allowing one pert breast to fall from its confines, and he watches with glee as the rose-colored nipple puckers in the cool air. Around the turgid prize his extension of feeling dances hearing her breath quicken, as do the shadow movements.

Sweetness, all pink, innocent and untainted, the girl represents a specific hunger that he knows he cannot fulfill. Not because of propriety or loyalty. If things were different the hidden beast lurking within him would be unleashed. It’s sole purpose and desire to prey on the innocent. For now the extension of feeling must remain the treat of a cupped perky breast, and the sheer enjoyment of watching the prized pupil of Gryffindor squirm unaware of the invasion.

Rhythmic hands stroking the quivering thighs urge, cajole and beg for them to spread. As a reward they comply, allowing the specter to gaze upon forbidden fruit, rosy and damp, all inviting to be touched and worshiped. He breathes deeply, imagining he can smell her arousal in the air. That most sweet and prized nectar issuing from the confines of folds not yet opened between her legs, and he its discoverer.

Fingers drag the nectar upwards on a slow trail of initiation to the pulse point of pleasure, and the man behind the ghostly puppet chuckles softly at the gasp that escapes her . De. Delicately herher her lips are parted, as one long digit slides easily into the waiting slickness, whilst the echo of a thumb flicks lightly over the extended bud. A stifled moan tickles his throat as he feels the tightness securing a phantom impression, and the untouched flesh opening for him. Another long finger slowly joins the first, encouraging the flesh to submit to its entrance.

Her cheeks are flushed now; her breathing is quicker and more desperate. He wonders if her dreams are those onsuansual darkness, and then finds his answer as he probes into the recesses of her mind, placing carefully hidden images within. Her lover is dark and dangerous yet she cannot see his face.

The flickering turns into short strong strokes both within and without, the longest digit bumping against the barrier protecting the most precious gift. He knows not to disturb this flesh, for it is to be discovered and lost at some later time, but still the seductive voice in his head almost persuades him otherwise. Almost.

His eyes glitter darkly as he quickens his pace, all the while watching her face. The abject power filling him as she parts her lips and whispers his name. If only he could now close the distance, confirm the admission and make her his. But alas it is not in his power to do so. He pushes into her strongly but not too deeply, as her hips buck and lift. Her silken muscles clamp around his fingers, pulsing and instinctively milking, looking for something that is not there.

She whimpers and sighs as her body relaxes, her cheeks flushed with sexual fulfillment. Growls of satisfaction threaten to erupt from him, now that he knows that he has awakened this fragile flower.

His release is strong, as strong as if his success was physical. It is only in his mind, in the recess of memories and hormones.

The hand of betrayal was sswifswift, and his many transgressions were paid for at the hands of an unforgiving master. Although not physical, the result was no less painful. Castration regardless of application was demeaning to any man.

Yet it is was price of returning and begging forgiveness. When he could prove his loyalty, and that his sins had been redeemed, then and only then would his manhood be renewed. How well the devil knew him and how long he knew he must wait. Silently he melted back into the shadows, his eyes glittering with satisfaction. When the Headmaster returned whe hhe had taken the ghost would take form yet again. Fading back into the shadows from whence he came, the Head of Slytherin retired to his chambers anticipating tomorrow’s nightly bed checks.