XII: Secrets And Lies

Chapter XII: Secrets And Lies

'Severus,' Dumbledore exclaimed and got up from his chair immediately as the Potions master entered his office. 'You have been successful, I assume?'

Snape nodded curtly. 'Miss Belakane is safely back at Hogwarts, untouched.'

'And Lucius?'

'By now, he is probably coming around, believing that he has executed his plan successfully.' Snape more or less spat out the words, and they left a bitter taste in his mouth. Yes, by now, Lucius had certainly woken up and was congratulating himself on having seduced the girl, having taken her virginity and having had such an incredible shag that he had passed out.

Dumbledore was now standing by the window, stroking his long white beard. 'You know Lucius well, Severus. Can we assume that he will now stop pursuing the girl?'

'For the time being, he will most probably stop sending her gifts smeared with Blackroot,' Snape replied. 'He is arrogant enough to believe that the girl will come running back to him now that she has tasted him.'

Tasted ... Morgana's lips had tasted sweet, and they had been soft and warm ...

Snape exhaled sharply and crossed his arms in front of his chest, trying to ignore those thoughts.

'The question is, Headmaster, what will we do when Lucius grows tired of waiting? Sooner or later, he will want the girl to come back to him and impregnate her. And if she does not come to him of her own free will, he will make her. And I am telling you here and now that I will not go along to watch out for her once more!'

Her white skin, the soft curve of her hips, her pert breasts ... the memories of Morgana's body crept unbidden back into Snape's mind, and he shook his head to make them go away. He mustn't be thinking of her like this.

'You look worn out, Severus,' Dumbledore pointed out. 'Are you alright?'

'Watching Lucius Malfoy trying to seduce one of my students is not exactly what I call an entertaining pastime, Headmaster,' Snape sneered.

Dumbledore nodded. 'I hope for the girl's sake that it will never have to come to that again, Severus. By the time Lucius wants her to come back to him, we – I – should have come up with a plan on how to keep her safe.' He fixed his Potions master with a piercing look. 'I assume that the girl does not know why Lucius is interested in her.'

Snape shook his head. 'For the time being, she believes that he wanted to get into her knickers. Believe me, Headmaster, the girl was in no condition to be told the whole truth.'

And I was in no condition to tell her, Snape thought. I wanted her just as much as Lucius did, even if it was for a different reason. And it was more than wrong.

'Then, Severus,' Dumbledore continued, 'I think we should leave it that way. I would rather the girl did not know what sinister plans Lucius is making. It might frighten her.'

Snape almost snorted. So now the old fool was suddenly concerned with the girl's well-being? Now? But he held his peace. He had no desire to argue with Dumbledore.

'I suggest you rest before dinner, Severus,' Dumbledore continued. 'You have had a rough afternoon.'

You have no idea, old man, Snape thought as he turned to leave the Headmaster's office.

He had almost reached the door when he heard Dumbledore call his name once more. 'Severus! Thank you.'

Snape did not even break his pace but marched right out of the office. Do not thank me, he thought. Do not thank a man who saved a girl from the claws of Lucius Malfoy and then almost sank his own into her.

* * *

The Weasley twins had bewitched a heap of dry leaves to turn into shapes and dance in the air. Of course, it being the work of Fred and George, the shapes were rather silly and – at times – just a tad offensive. But the students were having fun, and Professor Flitwick, who happened to walk by, whistled causally and pretended not to see.

The wind was carrying the laughter and cheers across the lake to where Charis was sitting on a bench under a tree, tightly huddled into a Ravenclaw blue shawl. She wasn't the brooding kind, never had been, but she did not feel like joining in with the fun, had no desire to laugh. There were thousands of thoughts chasing each other in her brain, and there was a storm of feelings brewing in her heart. And she wanted to be alone.

No, that was not true. Charis did not want to be alone. She wanted to be with her best friend. She wanted to cry at Morgana's shoulder and let out everything she had kept bottled up over the last weeks. She wanted some advice. For once in her life she actually wanted some cool, cunning Slytherin advice. But her best friend wasn't there.

Charis shuddered and pulled her shawl tighter around herself. It had been more than four hours since Snape had chased his NEWT class out of the dungeon and had sent her to the Headmaster. And Charis had done what she had been told, had run up the stairs to Dumbledore's office and informed him that Morgana had left for Malfoy Manor.

The Headmaster had been kind to her. He had offered her some tea and Ginger Snaps, and when she had been too anxious to either eat or drink, he had sat down beside her and answered her questions. So he and Snape thought that Lucius Malfoy had put Morgana under a spell which only could be broken if Malfoy got what he wanted? Or thought that he got it? And that was why neither Dumbledore nor Snape had stopped Morgana from going to the Manor? The whole idea seemed absurd to Charis. But she trusted Dumbledore. And she trusted Snape. Despite everything, she still trusted Severus Snape.

She started chewing at her nails, as she so often did when she was nervous. A disgusting habit, she knew that very well. But in situations like this, not even the best No-Biting Potion could help.

Snape. Just the thought of him made Charis' stomach clench, and she could not say if it was a good clench or a bad one.

Her dreams of him had become more intense. Ever since the incident in the Room of Requirement, she had dreamt of him every night. And whereas her dreams about him always had been of a sexual nature before, there was now something else as well. She dreamt of soft kisses, tender embraces and words of love. And when she woke up in the morning, her heart was filled with a loneliness that almost made her cry.

Charis buried her face in her hands. How had this happened? Three months ago, she had seen Snape as a sex god, a devilish womaniser. She had dreamt of him ravishing her, taking her to sexual heights she didn't know existed. And now she was dreaming of him making love to her, of him loving her.

But in reality, Snape was giving her the cold shoulder and had barely looked at her since that night. He had never been especially kind to her – he wasn't kind to any student – but at least, he had appreciated her work now and then, even if it only was with a small, almost unperceivable nod or a scratched comment on her homework. And now there was nothing. It was almost as if he avoided looking at her.

Charis bit off yet another nail and felt tears well up in her eyes. What had she gotten herself into? She could not be in love with Severus Snape! He would never love her, she knew that. She was too young, she was a Ravenclaw and she was ... a Mudblood. Yes, that must be it. He had chased her away from the dungeons that night, had said that her kind had no business down there. Yes, she was not good enough for him. He would never love her.

What a mess! Charis knew that she should not love him. She knew that he would never feel the way she did. But still, she could not make her heart change its mind.

She blinked away her tears and shook her head. How selfish of her to think about her messed-up love life when Morgana, her very best friend, her Star Sister, was in danger.

Once more she checked her watch. Snape had now been gone for four and a half hours. Surely, he must have found Morgana already. He should have brought her back to the castle by now. Unless something had gone wrong and Malfoy had hurt Morgana.

'Please, let her be safe.' Charis did not know to whom she was praying, but she desperately hoped that someone would hear her. She needed her friend by her side, now more than ever.

Yet another cheer from the other side of the lake made Charis lift up her head. Her eyesight was too poor to make out what kind of leaf-figure Fred and George had produced, but it was good enough for her to see that a hooded figure was making its way from the castle towards the edge of the lake. It was a small figure, about her own height, walking with quick yet measured steps. And Charis did not need a charmed necklace to know that it was her friend who was approaching her.

She was surprised when Morgana accepted the embrace she was offering and even more surprised when she felt the Slytherin's arms tighten around her.

'Are you alright?' Charis whispered, her voice muffled. Morgana accepting a hug, let alone her giving one, suggested that something was wrong. 'What happened?'

Morgana tightened her embrace even more and rested her head against her friend's shoulder. To be honest, she was not sure what had happened. She had a picture in her head of herself falling into Lucius' arms, of kissing and caressing him, of being kissed and caressed and of giving herself willingly to him. But she wasn't sure that all that had really happened. It felt like a dream, a horrible nightmare.

Snape had told her that Lucius had bewitched her, that he had used Blackroot to make her come to him and love him. And that, too, seemed like a bad dream to her. Nothing made any sense, but her mind was too tired to even try and make sense of anything.

What she remembered clearly, however, was the taste of Snape's lips, the feeling of his hot breath against her skin and the desire he had awoken in her. She would have given herself to him there in the garden of Malfoy Manor. Had he wanted to, he could have had her. But he had pulled away. And she had not wanted to let him go. And now her body was aching for him, and so was her heart.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment. She had not the energy to understand what she was feeling, and so she pushed her emotions away, hid them behind a defensive wall of inapproachability. She would not let any of her feelings slip until she understood them herself.

She put her hands on Charis' shoulders and held her friend at an arm's length, looking into her green eyes. 'Have you been crying?'

'No.'

Charis' attempt to dry off the tears that were hanging at her lashes was futile, and Morgana pulled her close once more.

'Don't lie to me, Ravenclaw,' she whispered softly.

A shudder went through Charis' body, and she buried her face at her friend's shoulder. The tears were now streaming down her cheeks, and she could not stop them.

'Hush, kitten. Hush, now.'

Morgana's soft voice and the tender way she was holding her made Charis cry even more. Morgana had never been one to hug and cuddle. And the way she was lending comfort now made Charis' heart ache still further.

She felt herself being guided back to the bench, and as Morgana sat down beside her, Charis caught a whiff of musk and dark chocolate. She blinked and shook her head. This was insane! Now she was imagining his scent as well.

'I am going crazy, Morgana,' she whispered, her voice still thick with tears. 'Loopy, nuts, insane.'

Morgana frowned. She had no idea what her friend was talking about.

'The night you almost ...' Charis started. 'In the Room of Requirement ... Snape and I ... we almost ... we ...'

Then the words finally came. They tumbled out of her mouth like Gobstones released from their bag. She told Morgana everything that had happened that night, from Snape's touch to the way he had turned away from her. And with every word, her conscience seemed to become lighter, sharing her burden with her friend.

Morgana listened without interrupting. Her face was impassive, but underneath Snape's cloak, she was clamping her hands, digging her nails into her palms. And a strange feeling started to grow inside her heart and writhed in her stomach like a nest of vipers.

She hated to admit it, but she was jealous and angry. Jealous that Snape had touched Charis, twice, and angry because Charis had not told her.

'I don't understand this, Morgana,' Charis exclaimed. 'Why would he touch me like this and then be so cold and foul only minutes later?'

Morgana shrugged. She had seen Snape turn from hot to cold in a matter of seconds this afternoon as well. She did not understand it, either. But she was not going to tell her friend. Not now, anyway.

'What did you expect from him, Charis?' she asked, her voice just a little bit harsher than she had intended. 'Did you expect him to fall to his knees and confess his everlasting love for you?'

Charis turned her head away. Why was it that Morgana so often managed to make her feel utterly stupid? 'I don't know what I expected,' she whispered.

Then she felt Morgana grab her shoulder.

'Charis?' Suddenly the tender tone was back in the Slytherin's voice. 'Are you in love with Severus Snape?'

Charis didn't answer. Saying it out loud would make it so real.

Morgana groaned. 'Answer me, Charis! Are you or are you not in love with Severus Snape?'

Slowly, Charis nodded. 'Yes, I am in love with Severus Snape.'

'For fuck's sake, Mudblood! You're dumber than I thought!'

The two girls swirled around and came face to face with the very last person either of them wanted to see: Draco Malfoy. He was standing mere feet away from them. Surely, he must have heard everything.

'Honestly, Mudblood,' Draco went on with a sneer that resembled his father's so much that it made Morgana shudder. 'In love with Severus Snape? Do you really think the Head of Slytherin House would touch a filthy creature like you?'

Charis sat as if she had been Petrified. Her body seemed to be made out of lead, and her brain was sluggish. She did not even react to Draco's insults. All she could think about was that Draco had heard her confessing her love for her teacher. She was mortified.

Morgana, however, reacted swiftly. She was half a head shorter than Draco, but she stood tall in front of him, fixing him with a gaze that could have made a Basilisk flinch. 'Shut your filthy mouth, Malfoy.'

Draco just sneered. 'You could do so much better, Belakane,' he replied. 'But if you don't watch out, the Mudblood will rub off on you, and no decent wizard will ever want to touch you.'

Then he turned and walked away, and Morgana stared after him, dumbstruck. She could just have told Draco that she indeed could do better, that she had done better, and that the decent wizard who had been touching her had been the boy's own father, Lucius Malfoy himself. But she didn't tell him. And she was sure that she never would.

* * *

It was dinner time when the girls finally made their way back to the castle. They had sat in silence for several minutes after Draco had disappeared. Then Morgana had made a comment about him being the result of centuries of inbreeding, and she and Charis had both laughed. And then silence had settled over their bench once more, and they had both been absorbed by their own thoughts, their own secrets. And the wall between them had started to grow.

In the Entrance Hall, they found their way to the Great Hall obstructed by a group of laughing, giggling students. And they were just about to push their way through them when Pansy Parkinson caught sight of Charis and shrieked in delight.

Morgana scowled at her House mate. 'And what exactly, dear Pansy, do you find so amusing?'

Pansy almost doubled up with laughter and pointed towards the wall. And before Morgana could make out what she was pointing at, she saw Charis' face fall.

On the wall hung a picture of a blond-haired girl in blue robes and a tall, dark wizard. And beneath stood in flashing letters: 'Charis Byrne and Sev'rus Snape, sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g!'

Morgana had already withdrawn her wand to blast the thing off the wall when a low baritone made the students scatter. 'Why are you lot not at dinner like everybody else?'

Morgana closed her eyes, feeling unspeakably sorry for her friend who stood beside her, pale as a ghost and shaking like a leaf. Carefully, she grabbed Charis' hand and pushed her behind her back. There was a thunderstorm underway, and the last thing Charis needed now was to be yelled at by Snape.

To everyone's surprise, the Potions master did not yell. In fact, he did not say a word but just Accio'd the picture into his hand. Then he stomped off towards the Great Hall, and the next thing the girls heard was his thunderous voice echoing from the walls:

'I want to know who is responsible for this monstrosity,' he bellowed. 'Right. Now.'

The House tables fell silent, and so did the staff table. Those who had not seen the picture raised their heads in curiosity. And those who had seen it peered around to see who was brave enough to admit the deed.

'No takers?' Snape went on. 'How disappointing. Let me inform you that every minute I have to stand here is another Saturday the whole school will spend in detention.'

Dumbledore had risen from his seat and was making his way towards the Head of Slytherin House. Apart from him, nobody dared move a muscle. Nobody except two Slytherins: Draco Malfoy, who was leaning back, looking rather smug, and Morgana Belakane, who was approaching him stealthily from behind.

'It was you, wasn't it, you slimy rat?' she hissed into his ear as she had reached him. 'You listened to us.'

Draco lazily raised an eyebrow. 'Your little Mudblood friend should be more careful about what she says in public.'

Before Draco knew what was happening to him, Morgana had grabbed him by the arm and dragged him onto his feet. 'Professor Snape,' she yelled through the Hall. 'I think I have found our da Vinci.'

'My office,' Snape bellowed. 'All three of you.'

He did not need to clarify who he meant by that. Charis, still feeling mortified, tried to make her way out of the Hall without being seen, and Morgana pushed Draco in front of her, holding his arm hard enough to make sure he would bruise.

'In,' Snape hissed as they reached his office, and the three students slipped inside, none of them brave enough to even look at the Potions master.

Snape positioned himself behind his desk, palms flat on the oak surface, his nostrils flared and his eyes slightly narrowed. 'Draco,' he started, his voice soft like velvet and at the same time sharp like a razor. 'Was it you who put up that picture?'

The boy nodded, every trace of smugness gone from his face. There was no point lying to Snape.

'You disappoint me, Draco,' Snape went on. 'I expect more from students of my House. You are banned from Quidditch for the rest of the season.'

Morgana opened her mouth to protest, but Snape cut her short. 'Not a word from you, Miss Belakane,' he hissed. 'I want you both to return to dinner. And I strongly advise you not to utter a word about this incident. You are dismissed. Miss Byrne, you stay.'

Charis cast a pleading glance towards Morgana, but her friend just shrugged. Defying Snape was only going to create trouble. She could not stay.

When the door closed behind Draco and Morgana, Charis wished she could Disapparate and never resurface again. What was Snape going to do now? Was he going to yell at her? Or even worse, laugh?

To her surprise he did neither, but told her to have a seat.

'Miss Byrne,' he started. 'Do you have any idea why Mr Malfoy would put up a picture like this?'

'Because he overheard me speaking to Morgana,' Charis mumbled, at once regretting that she hadn't said it properly in the first place. Now she would have to say it once more. She took a deep breath and started over. 'Draco overheard me telling Morgana.'

'What, exactly, did Mr Malfoy hear you telling Miss Belakane?'

'That I am in love with you,' she whispered hoarsely.

Now Charis just wanted to cry. The words had cost her great effort, and her heart was heavy with shame. She had not wanted Snape to know, never ever. He would use this against her, she was certain of it. He would make a snide remark, ridicule her and break her heart.

But once more, he surprised her. 'And what, Miss Byrne, do you expect from me after this confession?'

Charis shook her head and kept her eyes firmly on the ground. What she expected and what she wanted were two different things. She expected him to show her the cold shoulder at best. But she wanted him to take her into his arms and tell her that he loved her, too. But she knew that he never would.

'Miss Byrne, sit up straight and look at me,' Snape commanded, and Charis complied, dragging her green eyes up to meet his black.

He was still standing behind his desk, but the look in his eyes had changed. He looked at her in an almost tender way. No, not tender, Charis corrected herself. But understanding, perhaps.

'Miss Byrne, what happened between us here in my office and in the Room of Requirement should never have happened. I am your teacher and you are my student, and my behaviour was unacceptable. I want you to be under no illusion that these incidents occurred out of lust only. And I strongly recommend that from this point, you forget all about them.'

Charis swallowed dryly and cast her eyes down once more. Forget was just about the only thing she could not do. Surely, Snape must understand that.

She heard him walk around the desk, and as she dared to look up, Snape was standing right in front of her, his beetle-black eyes boring into her as if they could see into her very soul.

'Can I count on your Ravenclaw brains to keep your emotions under lock and key, Miss Byrne?' he asked softly.

Charis nodded. 'They can most certainly try, sir,' she managed weakly.

'I hope they will try hard, Miss Byrne.'

* * *

It was long past midnight when Morgana, for the umpteenth time, turned in her bed. Her body felt tired and heavy, and her eyes were aching, but her mind was filled with too many thoughts for her to find the peace she needed to fall asleep.

Slowly, ever so slowly, she allowed herself to remember what had happened at Malfoy Manor. She remembered Lucius' fingers brushing against her skin, the taste of his lips. She remembered the feeling of his breath against her neck, the sensation of his tongue lapping her core. But most of all she remembered the look of desire in his eyes. Lucius Malfoy, one of the most powerful and influential wizards in Britain, had desired her. He had even made her believe that he loved her, had written words of love onto the piece of parchment that now lay, neatly folded, under her pillow, together with the bracelet he had given her.

My Darling Morgana,

Lucius

Morgana squeezed her eyes shut. Oh, she wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe him so desperately that she refused to hear the little voice inside her head that told her that Lucius Malfoy was evil, that he was responsible for her parents' death and that he was only toying with her.

The voice she was trying to block out, the voice of her conscience was as soft as velvet, a deep, dark baritone that made her shiver in a similar way as Lucius' kisses had. And she knew whom the voice belonged to.

She had seen desire in his eyes as well. And had he not pulled away, she would have given her virginity to him, would have let him have her right there on the perfectly manicured lawn of Malfoy Manor.

But Snape had pulled away and had left her with a feeling of loneliness that seemed to tug at her heart, trying to rip it apart.

Was that the way Charis was feeling? Morgana wondered. Did Charis long for Severus Snape that much that she thought she was in love? And was she, Morgana, following in her friend's footsteps?

Morgana sighed and buried her face in her pillow. She had not told Charis what had happened at Malfoy Manor. She had not told her about Lucius, and she had not told her about Snape.

About Lucius, she had kept quiet because she did not trust herself. Her mind told her that Lucius was dangerous and evil, that he needed to be destroyed. But her heart told her other things. Her heart wanted to believe that Lucius loved her. And Morgana was afraid that the moment she opened her mouth, she would let her heart speak and not her brain.

About Snape, she had kept quiet for different reasons. She tried to convince herself that she had not said anything to spare her friend. Even if Charis' crush was thoroughly ridiculous, Morgana told herself that she did not want to hurt her friend by telling her what she had seen in Snape's eyes: lust, desire. For her and her alone. Yes, Morgana was trying to convince herself that she was keeping quiet for noble, almost Gryffindor-like reasons. And she did not want to listen to the little competitive Slytherin snake that lay curled up in the darkest corner of her heart, telling her that she should sink her claws into Snape and make sure that he would not turn away from her the next time, that she should make sure he chose her instead of her Ravenclaw friend.

Once more, she turned and pulled her blanket over her head, hoping that she would soon wake up from this horrible nightmare.

* * *

Morgana wasn't the only one tossing and turning in her bed that night, however. Charis had abandoned her bed altogether and was sitting in the window in the Ravenclaw common room, which overlooked the lake. But she kept her eyes firmly on Venus, which was shining brightly in the inky-black sky, and hoped that the Goddess of Love would share her wisdom with her.

She had not wanted anyone to know. Her Ravenclaw brain was making it very clear that being in love with Severus Snape would lead nowhere. He was her teacher, a grown man. And she was his student, just a little girl. He would never love her.

But Charis' heart was telling her something else. It was talking about a love so deep that it could move mountains, a love so deep that it could make Severus Snape love her back.

But then her sensible brain piped up again: 'It won't happen, Charis. Give up. Don't be ridiculous.'

No-one had called her ridiculous. Morgana had looked at her with eyes filled with warmth and compassion. 'I'm sorry,' those eyes had said. But with the little shake of her head and the almost inaudible sigh, Morgana had made it clear that she, too, thought that it was hopeless.

Charis closed her eyes and rested her head against the window glass. It was just as cold as the feeling that had crept into her heart when Snape had told her that she must forget what had happened between him and her. But how could she forget? His breath had been so hot on her skin, and the touch of his hands had made her whole body sing. And the look in his eyes had made her want to give herself to him. Body, heart and soul. How could she forget?

What would have happened that night in the Room of Requirement had they not been interrupted, Charis wondered. She had seen the desire in his eyes. He had wanted her that night. He would have taken her, and she would have let him. But the moment her necklace had started to glow, he had pushed her away.

'No, don't go there,' Charis whispered to herself. 'Don't blame Morgana.'

When Morgana had been discharged by Madam Pomfrey, Charis had wanted to tell her just how the incident between her and Snape had been interrupted, but she never had. What would she have said anyway? 'He was about to make love to me, and then he ran to you?' No, that would not have been fair, but still ...

And so Charis, too, had held her peace for loyal, almost Gryffindor-like reasons.

* * *

The third person not sleeping that night was Severus Snape. He had patrolled the corridors for more than three hours and was now standing on top of the Astronomy Tower, his robes and his hair flapping in the wind.

The stars were shining peacefully, and they seemed to be mocking him. There was absolutely nothing peaceful about that night. And he doubted that he would ever find the peace to go to bed.

Firstly, there was the matter of his little Ravenclaw admirer. When he first had realised that Charis had a crush on him, he had found that fact rather amusing and had enjoyed pushing her buttons and seeing how far she would go. But he had thought that her detention had been embarrassing enough for her to give up on him.

But she had not, and the incident in the Room of Requirement had made it very clear that she would indeed do anything for him. And now Snape knew why: the silly little girl thought that she was in love with him.

He shook his head. Did Charis even know what real love was? Or did she just confuse it with childish puppy love? Or just good old lust? He couldn't deny the allure of the power he had over her, the addictive look of lust in her eyes and her young, nubile body. Lust was something he could understand. But love?

He had told her to forget about him, to lock away her feelings for him. She must understand that he could not – would not, ever – love her the way she wanted him to.

But he had seen her shoulders drop and her lip start to quiver. And he had felt awful. It was one thing for your brain to tell you that your love was hopeless. But being told the same thing by the very person you loved was one of the most painful experiences there was. Snape knew that all too well himself.

He hated himself. Not so much for having told Charis to give up on him. That had been inevitable. But he hated himself for having led her on. He had been the one to approach her in the most intimate fashion – twice! And just because he had been unable to restrain himself, the girl's feelings had gone from an innocent crush to heartbreaking love.

Snape mentally slapped himself. He couldn't believe that his cock, all of a sudden, was ruling over his brain. Such behaviour was against everything he believed in. He, if anyone, knew how to put on a mask and come across as unaffected by any temptation. And still, he had failed repeatedly over the last few weeks.

He closed his eyes and willed the memories of the afternoon to go away. But the more he tried, the clearer they became: pale, untouched skin, cheeks flushed with anticipation, lips that parted willingly and from which escaped the sweetest sound of pleasure. And he had relished Morgana's sighs and moans and had wished that he were the one eliciting them from her lips. And when she had been in his arms an hour later, he had almost lost control, so sweet had her lips been, so hot her breath against his skin.

For heaven's sake! He had gone to Malfoy Manor to protect the girl, not to lust for her! But he had lusted for her, twice, and he could not guarantee that it would not happen again.

It must not happen again! With either of the girls! He was their teacher, their protector. He was a grown man, and they were mere children. No, no, he corrected himself. They were certainly not children anymore. They were young women now. And they should not be wasting their feelings on him. He would see to that they both gave up on him. He just did not know how to do it yet.

And nor did he know if, deep down, he really wanted them to turn away from him.

* * *

It was now almost three o'clock in the morning, and the stars were still shining peacefully. And still, neither the two girls nor the Potions master had found enough peace to fall asleep.

But there was somebody who slept soundly that night. Lucius Malfoy was lying regally under virgin-white sheets, dreaming of the child he might have fathered, the heir that would bring him endless glory. And he still believed that he had had the best shag of his life that afternoon.