XVI: Voyeuristic Visitation

Chapter XVI: Voyeuristic Visitation

It was an agonising wait. Snape sat at the edge of his chair once more, peering intensely into the mirror in front of him, hoping that Morgana would show up in it. She had promised Charis to get in touch the next day, and Snape was certain that she would keep her promise, but how she would spend the night, he knew nothing of. Hopefully, she would return to her tiny room at Madam Nutkins' and have a more or less good night's sleep. But there was a risk that she might do something else. Snape doubted that she would head for a bar and drown her sorrows. She was not of that kind. But Knockturn Alley was right around the corner...

When the light finally came on in Morgana's room, Snape thought he'd been waiting for hours, whereas in fact it had only been a couple of minutes. Morgana had not made any detour apart from the quick visit to the kitchen to fetch a cup of tea, which now was being carried into her room by her little house-elf.

'Is Mistress sure that Mistress doesn't want a biscuit? Or a sandwich, perhaps?'

'Silvy, I've told you not to call me Mistress. And yes, I am very sure that I don't want a biscuit or a sandwich. I'll have my tea and go to bed.'

'May Silvy fluff Mist... Miss Morgana's pillow?' the elf offered after she'd put the cup onto the rickety nightstand.

'Silvy, please.' Morgana was fighting hard to keep her voice low and not lose her patience. Her nerves were lying bare, and it wouldn't take much more for her to start snapping at the elf. And that was something she didn't want to do. Silvy meant well, and she was so used to serving and taking orders that it was hard for her to understand that she didn't have to do anything.

'Go to bed, Silvy,' Morgana requested in the end. 'It's late. And I'd like you to make breakfast in the morning.'

The elf beamed. 'Yes, Miss Morgana. Silvy will make chocolate croissants and keep them warm until Miss Morgana wakes up.' She bowed deeply, and happy about finally having been assigned a task, the elf retired, closing the door firmly behind her.

Finally, Morgana thought with a sigh. She loved her little elf, but there were times when she preferred to be alone. And tonight was certainly one of those times, she decided, and carefully warded the door. No sound would escape from her room that night, and no unbidden visitor would be able to enter.

She moved silently around the room, opening the window to let in some air, closing the curtains and lighting some candles, and Snape lost momentarily sight of her, wondering what she was up to. He heard shoes being kicked off and the rustling of fabric, and when Morgana stepped back into his view, he couldn't help but gasp. She was completely naked apart from two delicate silver chains around her neck. Snape swallowed. What a sight she was to behold, with her fiery hair contrasting violently with her alabaster skin.

She pulled back the covers on the bed and lay down, but to Snape's surprise – and his delight, if he were honest – she didn't pull the blanket over herself. Instead, she lay flat on her back, quite still, with her eyes closed and her hands resting on either side of her. She was breathing deeply and regularly, and if Snape hadn't been distracted by the shadows the candles cast onto her pale skin, he would have noticed that her face looked more relaxed than it had done in weeks.

And Morgana was indeed feeling relaxed, much to her own surprise. She felt as if she were drifting somewhere in the borderland between being asleep and being awake, yet she was not even sleepy and her senses were still acutely aware of everything around her. She heard the curtains rustle in the night wind, saw the candlelight flicker in her mind's eye and caught the scent of one of the candles. It was the one on her nightstand, she knew that. It smelled of roses.

Without really thinking of it, Morgana moved her hands from the bed onto her body, exploring her arms, her neck, her chest and her belly. She wasn't cold anymore, and her touch didn't wake the slightest discomfort. Instead, she could feel her skin start to prickle, her nipples harden and a warmth spread through her which she had almost forgotten how to feel. She took a deep breath, letting her nose – her whole self – be filled with the scent of blossoming roses. Her left hand closed around one of her breasts, fondling it gently, while her right wandered down over her belly, coming to rest on her silky red curls.

Snape sat mesmerised. He had expected many things from Morgana that night: sulking, brooding; even tears. But this scene he could not have imagined in his wildest dreams. And as her breathing quickened, he noticed that his, too, had become laboured, and as she licked her lips, slowly and sensuously, he noticed how dry his own mouth had become.

Morgana moved her hands with utter care. She hadn't touched herself in such a fashion for quite some time, had neither had the urge nor the energy. But tonight, there was a fire burning inside her that could only be quenched in one way. She needed release tonight, she needed it urgently, but still she did not want to rush.

She carefully squeezed her left nipple between her fingers, imagining the touch of warm lips and a nimble tongue and moaned, and the sound seemed to vibrate through her whole body, sending jolts of pleasure through her core. But her free hand just caressed the inside of her thigh. She did not want to touch herself down there. Not yet. She wasn't ready.

Snape's hand, too, had wandered south, and while he stared at the mirror, unable to even blink, he pressed his hand against his crotch, instinctively pushing his hips slightly forward as to relieve himself from the growing pressure. He felt his cock grow harder by the second. Soon, he would have to release it if he didn't want buttons to burst from his robes.

Morgana spread her legs a bit wider, slightly rocking her hips. She could feel the blood pulsate in her core and knew that she was moist and ready. But still, she hesitated. She wasn't prudish, had never been, but something deep inside her seemed to keep her from touching herself properly, from giving herself was she needed and craved. Just what was keeping her, she did not know. But the feeling was disturbing, agonising, and she did all she could to block it. She once more squeezed her breast, started kneading it quite roughly, hoping the sensation would take her mind off things, but all it did was intensify the pulsating between her legs, and she could feel her muscles contract as if around the member of an invisible lover. By Merlin, how she longed to be touched, to be taken and be filled completely.

She couldn't wait anymore now. Her fingers moved quickly over her most sensitive spot, and she moaned loudly, squeezing her eyes shut and biting her lips, trying to enjoy the sensation that was threatening to overpower her. Her breathing came in gasps, and she arched her back, trying to press her hips against her hand which she knew wouldn't be able to give her what she needed so desperately.

And Snape sat panting, squeezing his throbbing erection through the fabric of his robes, wishing he could step through the mirror and position himself right between Morgana's thighs, plunge into her and make her moan for him like he knew she had moaned for Lucius once. Oh, how heavenly it would be to hear her call his name as he drove her to heights she had never known.

Then it was suddenly all over. Morgana felt as if she had been hit by a wave of icy water, and as she let her hips fall back onto the bed, she gave a sigh of frustration. She had come so close, so close to what could have been not only a sexual release but also an emotional breakthrough. But at the very last moment, just when she had felt every single muscle in her body contract, her mind had been invaded by the memory of steely grey eyes, and she had lost it all. Now her hand hung limply between her thighs while the other rested in her breast; her breathing had calmed down and she felt empty and alone.

All of a sudden shivering again, she pulled the blanket over her naked body and curled up like a cat hiding from a storm. She wouldn't cry, not tonight, no matter how miserable she felt. The best thing she could do now was empty her mind and force herself to go to sleep. She didn't even bother extinguishing the candles or close the window. The candles would burn down eventually, and the cold night air drifting in though the open window would hopefully swipe away all her ghosts and dark thoughts.

Snape stared, flabbergasted. He couldn't see into Morgana's mind and had therefore no idea what had happened. All he knew was that she had stopped her ministrations mere moments away from what certainly would have been a mind-blowing orgasm and that she had left both him and herself unsatisfied. Now she lay there, curled up and hidden from sight by her blanket, and he didn't understand.

He scowled and was just about to leave the room in order to finish what he had started under a warm shower in the privacy of his own bathroom when yet another moan issued from the mirror. But this one was not coming from Morgana. This moan was coming from Charis.

Snape refocused, and his eyes came to rest on Charis' sleeping form. She had kicked off her blanket and was now lying without cover in her bed. Her thin nightie had glided up, leaving her bare bottom exposed, and from the way she was tossing and turning and rubbing her thighs together, Snape deducted that she was having an extremely pleasant dream and decided to linger in front of the mirror.

Oh, what a delicious dream she seemed to be having. She was now lying on her stomach, moving her hips from side to side, every now and then sighing or moaning. And Snape let his hand glide back between his legs to once more take a firm grip around his erection that was still straining to break free from the confinement of his robes. And once more he wished he could step into the mirror. Surely, Charis would not mind if he pushed her nightie up and took her from behind, filling her tight pussy as he had done that night in the restricted section of the Hogwarts library. Merlin knew she had enjoyed it then.

The memory was too much, and Snape couldn't resist any longer. He undid his robes and freed his cock, wrapped his hand firmly around it and started stroking it with slow, deliberate movements, not once taking his eyes off Charis. Oh, she was making such delicious little noises.

'Hmmm, yes. That feels good.'

Well, well, well, Snape thought. Looks like someone still hasn't given up their habit of talking in their sleep. This should be interesting.

'Yes, right there.'

Oh, he knew what she liked. Had he not made her howl with pleasure as he had struck her special spot over and over again while stroking her clit deftly until she had trembled beneath him, muffling her outcries with her hand? He tightened his grip around his cock. She had been tight, and when she had climaxed, her muscles had contracted so hard around him that he had almost come, that he had almost spilled his seed deep inside her. He had held back then, not wanting to give her that kind of power over him. But tonight, he would give in.

'Yes, right there, Grindling.'

Grindling?!

Snape almost choked and let go of his cock as if burnt. There he was, hanging onto the memory of Charis squealing and moaning as he pounded into her, and she was dreaming of another man? A little Ministry twit?

Snape gritted his teeth, feeling his cock grow limp. Charis moaning another man's name was a turn-off beyond belief, and an icy cold shower followed by a healthy measure of Firewhisky seemed suddenly very tempting. But then Snape's cunning Slytherin mind kicked into gear, and he decided to kill two birds in one stone. If he played his cards right, he would go to bed satisfied that night and when Charis woke up, she would think of no other man but him.

'Sectus,' he muttered, waving his hand at the mirror. He doubted that Morgana would emerge from under her blanket any time soon or that she would even think about looking in her mirror in the middle of the night. But in case she did, he had no desire for her finding him whispering to Charis. Neither of the girls must know about him owning a third mirror. Hence, he blocked Morgana. Should she look into her mirror, she would see nothing but her own reflection. Then he focused once more on Charis. She'd turned onto her back now, and Snape could make out a faint smile playing around her lips.

'Miss Byrne,' he whispered.

He saw her tense up and sat quite still for a moment. If she woke up, he would have to abandon his plan as to avoid being found out. But Charis didn't wake, and after a few moments, she relaxed again.

'Can you hear me, Miss Byrne?' Snape asked, once more closing his hand around his cock which was rapidly hardening again. The mere thought of what he was about to do was turning him on to no end, and as he heard a quiet, affirmative hum coming from Charis' lips, he started stroking himself once more.

'You should not be dreaming of throwaway nobodies, Miss Byrne,' Snape went on, his voice still not more than a whisper. 'You should be dreaming of real men, real men who know what a luscious woman like you needs. Real men who know how to fuck.'

'Yes,' Charis replied in a half-moan. She was obviously hearing him well.

And he was quite certain that she recognised his voice, too.

'You had wine tonight, Miss Byrne. You told me once that alcohol makes you amorous. Is that still the case?'

Charis murmured a yes.

'And do you still want me lay you down, kiss you and pin your hands against the side of your head and grind myself against you?'

'Yes.'

'But I cannot be with you tonight. I can only talk to you. Will you listen to me and touch yourself the way I cannot?'

'Mmm.'

Snape smiled triumphantly and stroked himself slowly yet firmly, closing his eyes for some moments as to enjoy the sensation.

'Touch yourself,' he whispered, and as he opened his eyes again, he saw that Charis' hand had obediently slid over her stomach and rested on her groin.

'Part your folds,' he instructed. He remembered that Charis used to be clean-shaven, that her folds were soft and that she was always hot and wet for him. His memory served Snape well; he was not disappointed.

'Yes, rub yourself there. Slowly, really slowly. Yes, good. A bit faster now. Yes, yes.'

He, too, picked up the pace, letting his hand glide up and down his shaft while his free hand cupped his balls, squeezing them slightly every time his hand slid down to the base.

'Now enter yourself,' he commanded, remembering how tight Charis had been, how hot and slick her flesh.

Charis gave a deep moan, and Snape's cock twitched in response.

'Do you remember how it felt when I entered you?'

'Big,' Charis murmured. 'You were so big... stretching me...'

'Did you enjoy it?'

'Yes. Oh, yes.'

Charis was working herself into a frenzy with her fingers hitting the special spot inside her, and as she started moaning in earnest, Snape started to stroke himself more feverishly, now concentrating on the tip of his cock.

'Yes. God, yes! Severus!'

Charis' back arching was the last thing Snape saw before he squeezed his eyes shut. His hand was moving up and down at a high speed now while his other was cupping his balls. His skin started to prickle, and he imagined the touch of warm hands and nimble fingers, soft lips and searching tongues. His mind filled with images of green eyes and red hair, and his ears filled with moans and sounds of delight. There were different voices, he was sure. Two at least. And they were both screaming his name.

'Severus! Severus, yes! Yes!'

He came undone with a deep growl and a shudder, spurting load after load of his seed into his hand, but he kept his eyes firmly shut, fearing that the sensation of his orgasm would overpower him if he opened them. He felt himself shivering with pleasure and continued stroking himself, slowly but firmly, all the while growling and moaning. It had not felt this good for ages.

His cock had already softened in his hand when Snape finally opened his eyes. He was feeling dizzy, and it took him some moments to focus on the mirror in front of him. Charis lay curled up in her bed with her hand resting on her hip and her fingers still glistening with her own juices. Her cheeks were rosy, and there was a blissful smile on her lips that suggested that she had enjoyed her "dream" quite a lot. And when Snape turned over the mirror and retired, he was quite certain that Charis would think of no other man than him when she woke up in the morning.