XXX: The Slug Club

Chapter XXX: The Slug Club

The month of December was grey and wet, and despite her having done all of her Christmas shopping and the fact that the Ministry of Magic's atrium was adorned like a twinkling grotto, Charis was finding it hard to get into the Christmas spirit. Her mind was still plagued with twirling thoughts of the prophecy, and she spent every free moment pondering its implication.

The glowing Lion born into the House of Snakes

That will bring the answers to conquer the Dark.

Charis knew the prophecy by heart now, but still she had no answers. And as time wore on, she found it harder and harder to believe that the prophecy was really about her! How could she, of all people, possess the means to ask the questions to conquer the Dark... to conquer You-Know-Who? Certainly, she was a bright young witch who had done Ravenclaw House proud, but what did she know about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? Nothing more than anyone else. Dumbledore seemed to know more than he was letting on, though. But then again, he was a brilliant wizard. Yet the Headmaster of Hogwarts seemed to have faith in Charis and her abilities. Just why was beyond her.

She and Grindling had been trying to solve the conundrum for months now and had reached dead ends at every turn. Grindling was growing frustrated, Charis could tell. And who could blame him? After all, it had been Grindling who had made the prophecy. No wonder it annoyed him that he did not know what it meant. But his sighs of frustration did not help, and Charis didn't want to put any more pressure on him. He had been working tirelessly, and now, with the holidays approaching, Charis thought it best for him to take a well-deserved break. That was why she had not told him about her plans to stay at Slughorn's Christmas party for a socially acceptable amount of time only and then sneak off to the library to do some more research to try to find exactly what it was that she and Grindling had overlooked during their last visits. Had she told him, he would certainly have insisted on coming along.

When the night of the twentieth of December finally arrived, Charis' stomach was filled with nerves. For she didn't know who else would be attending the party, and as she was a shy girl, the prospect of sitting in a room full of strangers and having to make small talk was totally daunting. Also, she guessed that it was going to be a fairly lavish event, and when she stepped out of the Floo directly into Slughorn's office shortly after eight o'clock in the evening, she realised that she hadn't been wrong. The ceiling and walls had been draped with emerald, crimson and gold hangings so that it looked as though they were all inside a vast tent. The room was crowded and stuffy and bathed in red light cast by an ornate golden lamp dangling from the centre of the ceiling in which real fairies were fluttering, each a brilliant speck of light. Loud singing accompanied by what sounded like mandolins issued from a distant corner; a haze of pipe smoke hung over several elderly warlocks deep in conversation, and a number of house-elves were negotiating their way squeakily through the forest of knees, obscured by the heavy silver platters of food they were bearing so that they looked like little roving tables. The assembled crowd of witches and wizards were all dressed in fine robes, and Charis immediately started to regret her own choice of clothing. She was wearing her little black dress, the one she'd showed Morgana a few weeks ago, which was short without being tarty and modest about the cleavage but showed off her collarbones nicely. She wore the silver Draumar around her neck, and her thick blonde hair was tamed into a sleek, elegant French pleat held in place by delicate silver pins. The outfit was completed by little silver star earrings, her favourite kitten-heeled black shoes and an understated clutch bag. She couldn't have looked any more Muggle if she tried, and she could not help but feel slightly out of place in her surroundings.

Shyly, Charis lingered by the fireplace, looking around for a few moments, feeling completely out of her depth and considering returning home before anyone noticed her. But then she felt the weight of a hand on her shoulder, and a kind voice addressed her: 'Would I be right in thinking that you would be Miss Byrne?'

Charis turned around to see that she was greeted by a short, corpulent, bald wizard who was only an inch or so taller than herself. His gooseberry-coloured eyes were shining, and underneath a bushy silver moustache, which reminded Charis fleetingly of a walrus, his smile was broad and genuine.

'Yes, sir,' she affirmed politely.

'Wonderful to meet you.' The wizard attempted a little polite bow, but the enormity of his girth prevented him from bending too low. 'Horace Slughorn, at your service,' he introduced himself. 'Thank you for coming along tonight. I hope you'll enjoy yourself and get to meet many other influential people. Elf-made wine?'

Before Charis had even had the chance to answer, Slughorn had expertly plucked a glass from a passing elf and thrust the cut crystal into her hand whilst taking one for himself.

'Yes, it's a certainly a good turn-out tonight,' he went on after taking a sip of the rather excellent wine. 'I think people have missed these gatherings since I'd retired from Hogwarts.'

He paused, seemingly lost in reminiscing about the past as Charis smiled at him awkwardly. Certainly, Horace Slughorn was very friendly and welcoming, but she still couldn't understand why she had been invited at all. However, asking her host about it would be rather rude.

The next moment, Slughorn shook his head to clear his thoughts and then leaned in whilst pointing discreetly. 'Now, that dashing young man in the smart brown robes is Cormac McLaggen, a seventh-year Gryffindor. A fine lad he is, too. Very athletic. He's the reserve Keeper for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. His Uncle Tiberius is rather well known within the Ministry of Magic. But of course, I'm sure I don't have to tell you that, do I?'

The older wizard smiled down at Charis with his twinkling eyes, and although he was merely pointing out a possible shared associate, Charis could not shake the feeling that Slughorn was trying to do a bit of matchmaking. And that feeling increased when she glanced over at Cormac and was surprised to find the young man looking her up and down like a piece of meat. When the Gryffindor caught her eye, he gave her a cheeky grin and raised his eyebrows in a suggestive manner. One would almost have expected him to wolf-whistle or lick his lips next. But Charis, stunned at the attention, merely blushed and looked away, taking a big gulp of the elf-made wine to cover her embarrassment.

'Lovely young chap, indeed,' Slughorn went on and seemed just about to usher Charis over to Cormac the Lothario when a familiar voice called above the hubbub.

'Charis? Is that you?'

Relieved, Charis turned around to see the smiling face of Luna Lovegood, her old Housemate, complete with Harry Potter in tow.

'Luna! How are you?' Charis gave the younger Ravenclaw a hug and then smiled at Harry, giving him a sheepish 'hello'. The last time she'd seen him had been when she'd told him she couldn't join Dumbledore's Army because he'd decided to exclude Morgana, simply because she was a Slytherin. Charis had no idea how Harry had taken that show of loyalty, but to her relief, he didn't seem to hold a grudge about that.

'I'd stay away from McLaggen if I were you,' Harry warned her in a low voice. 'He brought Hermione to the party, but he's been eyeing up everything in a skirt since he walked in. You don't need to be a Legilimens to know what he's thinking about.'

Charis looked shocked. 'Poor Hermione! Isn't she upset?'

Harry laughed. 'She's been trying to get away from him all night. Says he's got more tentacles than the Giant Squid.'

The three old schoolmates chatted for a few minutes until Harry was distracted by the sight of a red-headed girl whom Charis recognised as Ginny Weasley. He made his excuses and left, and Luna started conversing with Slughorn about the usage of Gurdyroots in toothache potions, which left Charis sipping her wine rather too quickly and looking nervously around the room. She recognised quite a few of the guests and gave a friendly smile at most of them. But she almost spat out her drink when she spotted a handsome, dark-skinned boy in one corner, entertaining a pair of twin girls who were hanging on his every word.

Blaise Zabini!

Aside from Draco Malfoy, Blaise was the last person Charis had wanted to run into. Blaise had cruelly broken her heart during her final year, all because of a bet placed by his crony Malfoy. The very sight of him now made Charis' stomach churn as if it were filled with hundreds of writhing snakes. The twin girls, Slytherins in the year below Zabini, if Charis remembered correctly, were wrapped around his finger, laughing at his jokes with bright eyes and touching his arm at every available opportunity, and Charis couldn't help but wonder if his aim was to bed them both at once. And although the thought was repugnant, it did not surprise her one little bit. Feeling nauseous, she turned away, not wanting to catch the Slytherin's eye and be the victim of a scornful stare. But, as coincidence would have it, standing in front of her was the other Slytherin male who had broken her heart last year: Severus Snape!

'You might want to keep your knickers on tonight, Miss Byrne. Mr Zabini pocketing them is getting old,' he growled in his inimitable low tone.

Charis had no answer for this and could only blink back a few times, her mouth open with shock. So much for hello! And did Snape really think that she had enjoyed the attention when Draco Malfoy had dropped her knickers on her breakfast plate in the Great Hall, telling her Blaise sent his regards?

'Or maybe it is Mr McLaggen who has struck your fancy tonight?' Snape asked smoothly, stretching his neck to watch the seventh-year Gryffindor, who was suddenly looking ever so fascinated with his shoes.

Charis' eyes widened. Surely, Snape didn't think she was flirting with the lecherous McLaggen? Unless... Charis' jaw dropped a second time. So, was it like she had suspected back at Grimmauld Place? Was Snape in some way jealous?

'I... I don't know what you mean, um, sir,' she replied, feeling more and more confused and uncomfortable by the second.

Snape raised a cynical eyebrow at this.

'Interesting choice, your outfit,' he went on, apropos of nothing, scanning his onyx eyes up and down Charis' black dress without emotion. 'Are we still proud of our heritage?'

Charis had no idea where this was leading, but Snape's obtuse sniping was beginning irritate her. She raised her chin slightly in defiance, but answered quietly, 'Yes, sir.' No matter what, Snape was still intimidating.

He stared intently at the blonde witch for some moments, and it felt as if the temperature in the room had dropped several degrees when he finally spoke again.

'You consider this wise, in times like these?'

Charis felt bewildered by this line of questioning. Why couldn't he just say what he meant, instead of talking in riddles? He was worse than a Sphinx.

'I cannot change who I am. And neither would I want to,' she answered in an even tone, forcing herself to look back into Snape's bottomless eyes and to show no fear.

'Some would call that attitude foolish,' he sneered. 'Others would call it brave.'

Then his eyes glittered strangely, and when he spoke again, his voice had taken on a warning tone.

'You want to be careful, Miss Byrne. Not everyone appreciates Muggle outfits the way Mr McLaggen does.'

Charis flushed and looked down. So that's what this was all about. Her dress! Snape might as well have said she looked like a Muggle tramp and be done with it. But before he had a chance to quantify his statement, the host of the party stepped in.

'Ah, Severus! So glad you could make it, dear boy!' he beamed, glancing from the Defence professor to Charis. 'A chance to catch up with students old and new, eh? Care for some mead? Or are you more of an elf-made wine type of chap?'

Whilst Snape turned his attention to Slughorn, Charis seized her chance to escape. What with Zabini on one side, pervy McLaggen on the other and a bitchy Snape in the middle, there was nothing she wanted more right now than to escape the party as quickly as she could.

She swiftly necked the remainder of her wine and then flitted discreetly through the crowd and out into the cool, soothing quietness of the Hogwarts corridors. Turning left, she made her way along in the moonlight. Her destination? The place where Ravenclaws always took comfort in solitude: the library.

* * *

Half an hour later, Charis wandered idly down the aisle that contained the yearbooks, now and then taking one off the shelf and flicking through it. Just being in the stillness of the library calmed her mind, and slowly, she managed to shake off Snape's snide remarks and turn her attention onto the prophecy, trying to think of what she and Grindling could have missed from their previous research. Western astrology hadn't turned up any results; could it be that Chinese astrology could throw up answers instead? Screwing up her face, Charis tried to remember back to her Divination class. She seemed to remember that Chinese astrology featured a snake as one of its symbols and also a tiger. But she couldn't recall a lion being featured. Her own sign was that of the horse, and there had been no mention at all of that in the prophecy. No, that couldn't be it.

She was just about to return another yearbook to the shelf when a faint rustle of robes made her look up sharply. Surely, she was just imagining things? No-one could be using the library this close to Christmas.

'Well, well, Miss Byrne, looking up which wizard at the party has the best family tree, are we?' The familiar voice of Severus Snape oozed out of the darkness before the Head of Slytherin himself stepped out of the shadows. 'How very Ravenclaw of you, going to the library instead of dancing.'

Charis swallowed a retort. She was feeling very annoyed by now. After all, she'd come to the library to avoid Snape and his snarky comments, not to invite him there for more. Why was he acting like a jealous child?

'Is there something I can help you with, sir?' she asked lightly, trying hard to disguise her irritation.

Snape raised a dark eyebrow as if he had no idea what Charis was talking about. Instead of replying, he glanced at the shelf of books before her.

'Have you not been through these already with your... boss?' he asked, making the word boss sound like it was something deeply unpleasant indeed.

Charis' jaw tightened at this. Snape knew very well that Dumbledore thought solving the prophecy was highly important. Why was he so snippy about it?

'Albus said we could use the library at any time, if we wished,' she answered evenly.

'And you consider this to be a good time, Miss Byrne?' Snape asked, stepping closer to the blonde witch, his eyes glittering. 'When you are all dressed up, looking dazzling? I'd say it is a waste.'

Now Charis was stunned. Did Snape just pay her a compliment?! What on earth was going on? How much wine had he drunk?

'I... I thought you said my outfit was inappropriate, sir,' she stammered, wondering what verbal trap her former teacher had left for her this time.

'Did you hear me use those exact words, Miss Byrne?' Snape answered smoothly, a slight smile pulling at his lips. 'You must have Glumbumbles in your ears.'

And with that, he stepped swiftly beside Charis. If she hadn't known better, she'd have thought he was about to check her ears. Her pulse quickened at his proximity. What was Snape up to? And why did she have the feeling that she was being toyed with, like a Kneazle with a Pygmy Puff?

'No, no Glumbumbles here,' Snape said softly. 'This, however, might be befuddling your mind.'

He reached for the silver Draumar, which was resting on Charis' chest, brushing her breasts ever so slightly as he picked up the necklace, causing a shiver of anticipation to wash over Charis. Had his touch been an accident, or had it been deliberate?

'The star necklace suited you better, Miss Byrne,' Snape said slowly, turning the delicately engraved Draumar over in his hand. 'You wore the star as a proof of your friendship. What are you wearing this for?'

Once again, Charis was caught off guard by this line of questioning. Why should her choice of jewellery be any of his business?

'It's a rare and valuable object,' Charis explained. 'And...,' she paused, a little embarrassed to go on.

'And?' Snape prompted, silently willing Charis not to mention her boss' name. It was the last thing he wanted to hear.

'It sounds silly,' Charis continued after a moment, 'but I was hoping that having the prophecy on my person would somehow act as a talisman for me to unlock its secrets.'

Charis looked down bashfully, feeling a bit stupid for admitting that.

'Muggle superstition,' Snape muttered, pulling the Draumar up on the necklace so it came to hang on Charis' back instead. He didn't want to see it, that reminder of the other male in Charis' life, and he certainly didn't want her to think of any man other than him that night.

Once he'd hidden the Draumar safely from sight, he cupped Charis' chin and looked deep into her lovely green eyes, relishing the sharp intake of breath his touch caused.

'As for the rest of your outfit...,' he continued slowly, turning Charis' head to one side, in order to inspect her hair. 'Muggle style... is not necessarily a bad thing.'

Charis was clinging on to her clutch bag tightly in one hand, not trusting herself to say anything. She'd forgotten how his touch felt, how gentle he could be.

Snape effortlessly took the bag from her with his free hand and threw it lightly on the table to one side. He noticed Charis was shaking slightly. With nerves, excitement or fear, he could not tell. Most probably, it was a mixture of all three.

'It appears we are completely alone.'

He caught Charis' elbow and started to walk her backwards into one of the alcoves, where she gave a yelp as she backed into a pillar.

'Hush now, silly girl. You know how much Madam Pince dislikes noises in the library.'

And with that, Snape bent over and covered Charis' mouth with his, keeping her from making even the tiniest of noises. He tasted of smoky Firewhisky, and after a moment's hesitation, Charis started to kiss him back, her hands instinctively grasping his shoulders. His kiss stirred a passion inside her, and volts of pleasure shot down her spine as he pressed his body against hers. And suddenly, she realised that she'd been right: he had been jealous, jealous because he was still attracted to her after all this time! The thought made her giddy. The marble pillar was cold against her back, and she could feel the Draumar digging in to her as Snape shifted his weight. His hands were running down her side, her hips, tracing the outline of her feminine curves.

'Do you know the advantage of Muggle outfits, Miss Byrne?' he whispered, only just breaking their kiss, his breath entwining with hers.

'No, sir,' Charis replied breathlessly, feeling quite dizzy from the dark wizard's intoxicating kiss.

'They are much...'

His fingers traced the hem of her dress.

'... shorter than witches' robes.'

He pulled the fabric upwards, which left Charis' pale, creamy thigh exposed for him to caress with his fingertips. As he crept higher, his thumb found its way under her knickers and into the sensitive flesh beyond. He moved slowly, yet deliberately, leaving Charis trembling in earnest now. Her knees were feeling weak all of a sudden, and she increased her grip on Snape's shoulders as she tried to steady herself.

With a strong hand, Snape picked up Charis' leg, placing it against his waist, and as she hooked it around him, he ground up against her with a slight groan. To this, Charis arched her back, pushing her breasts towards him with a little surprised moan of her own. How could she have forgotten how big the bulge was underneath his robes?

Snape now directed his hand between her thighs, deftly pulling her knickers to the side. For a blink of an eye, he paused, yet again reliving a memory he had replayed over and over since he first touched her: she had been clean shaven, hot and wet. Wet for him. And when he let his fingers slide over her sex, he was delighted to find her just as he remembered her to be: wanting and ready to be taken. A smile flitted over his otherwise so dark features. She had always been his, and he could have her whenever he wanted. And tonight, he wanted her badly.

'Those boys might have been ogling you all night, Miss Byrne, and would gladly have pawed you and slobbered all over you like dogs,' he breathed. 'But it takes a man to treat you like the woman you are.'

He entered her wetness with two long fingers, inching into her slowly and carefully, causing Charis to moan and grip his fingers with her muscles as he slid in up to the knuckle. His teeth softly grazed her neck, and Charis could hear his laboured breathing, which betrayed his own arousal and excitement. Oh, he wanted her just as much as she wanted him. Always had, always would. And Charis could not resist and ran her fingers through his thick black hair. Snape stiffened for a moment, fighting the instinct to pull his head away. But in the end, he let Charis pull his head closer towards her, buried his face at her shoulder and kissed the side of Charis' throat, all the while moving his fingers slowly in and out of her, causing her knee to buckle a little. But he held on to her tightly, and she mewled with pleasure at the gentleness and deliberateness of his touch.

Not stopping his ministrations, he lifted his head and looked into her eyes, and she gazed back at him, the pupils in her fern-coloured eyes dilated with lust and her hand still entwined in his hair. Once again, she had the feeling of vertigo from looking in their black depths, of being pulled in and never escaping.

'Do you remember what I told you the last time we were here? Do you remember the difference between love and lust?'

Snape's voice was soft when he spoke, and Charis nodded slowly, never once breaking eye contact.

'Are you able to keep the two apart, no matter what happens here tonight?'

'Yes,' Charis whispered hoarsely. She'd say anything right now, anything at all so he'd carry on kissing her and stroking her special spot.

For a moment, Snape hesitated. He was aware that he couldn't have chosen a worse moment for his question and that Charis was not really in a frame of mind where she could say no. He knew that once again, he would be taking advantage of her. But against his better judgement, he used his free hand to undo his robes and release himself from the black material. He knew she wanted him, the look in her eyes and the way her body reacted to him was ten times stronger than Amortensia. He would give her what she craved and take what he himself needed so desperately. Hopefully, they'd be able to look each other in the eyes when this was over.

It was now or never. Quickly, Snape pulled his fingers out, taking a firm grip around Charis' waist, and without warning, he thrust into her with a low growl, filling her completely. Charis let out a surprised moan of her own, one leg still wrapped around his hips, the other standing on tiptoes, barely managing to keep her balance as their bodies joined as one.

Snape closed his eyes for a moment to steady himself. He had not been prepared for the sensation of her hot flesh, and had he been less careful, he would have come undone already. But he had to make sure that this was not only about him.

Slowly, he eased out of her and lifted her from the ground. She wrapped her legs around his waist and looped her arms around his neck, and he placed his hands underneath her succulent, rounded bottom, preparing to enter her again.

This time, he was careful, sliding in inch by inch, enjoying every second. Charis' eyelids fluttered shut as the sensation of being filled totally washed over her. Gods, she never knew Snape could make love like this! But this wasn't love-making, she reminded herself. This was just sex. The best sex she'd ever had!

Snape was enjoying it, too. Charis was tight and warm, and her moans were delicious. But he wasn't twenty any more. The position was hard work, and once more, a primitive thought entered his mind, the thought of finishing quickly and being done with it. But he fought the urge. This was about Charis.

Once more, he slid into her to the hilt, taking a firm hold on her, and spun around to the nearest table. Sitting her down carefully, he let go of her bottom and pushed her gently backwards so she came to lie on her back. He let his hands run up her hips and her side, over her shoulders and down onto her chest until they came to rest on her full breasts, giving them a gentle squeeze before he started massaging them. Charis sighed. She loved the feeling of his hands on her, the long, skilful fingers caressing every inch of her as if sculpting her out of clay. Suddenly, she wished she could be free of her little black dress so she could feel those wonderful hands on her naked skin. But this was not a time for the passionate ripping of clothes and discarded items being tossed onto the floor. Snape was moving in and out of her, slowly, deliberately, his eyes half-closed and his hair falling into his face when he thrust forward. He looked so relaxed; the permanent furrow between his brows had all but disappeared. Slowly, Charis started to rock her hips in time with his thrusts, hoping he wouldn't find her wanton for doing so.

Snape opened his eyes. Black met green. He leant forward, and for the tiniest of moments, Charis was convinced that he would kiss her. But instead, he grabbed hold of her wrists, pinning her hands to her sides. He changed his angle, and his thrusts become harder. Charis let out a little "oh!" of surprise, and her moans became more urgent as he struck her special spot over and over with his unrelenting thrusts. Heavens, she liked this! Being taken roughly by a man who knew exactly what he was doing.

'Yes! Please... yes, just like that!'

She was silenced with an urgent, passionate kiss that left her gasping for air when Snape eventually pulled back. Whether he had quietened her because they were in the library or because he didn't appreciate his women making too much noise, Charis did not know. But she bit her lip, obediently not making any more sound than a church mouse.

Snape exhaled through his nose. He wouldn't last much longer, he was well aware of that. The angle was perfect and Charis was warm and tight. And her clenching her inner muscles and moving her hips were sending him even further into oblivion. Quickly, he pulled her up into a sitting position, yet again pinning her arms to her side. Charis could feel his hot breath at the side of her throat and noticed how his thrusts became erratic, almost desperate. Was that it, she wondered. Was Snape finally going to surrender and give her what she had wished for since their first encounter in this very library?

She turned her head, seeking eye contact. She wanted to hold him now, but Snape was still holding on to her wrists, and she could not move a muscle.

Then, suddenly and unexpectedly, he withdrew, and Charis felt her heart sink. If Snape walked away from her now, yet again, she knew not what she would do. But to her utter delight, he did no such thing. Instead, he pulled her right hand towards his cock.

Charis swallowed, carefully wrapping her small hand around it, marvelling at how slick it was with her own juices and how wide and warm the head was. She squeezed gently as she stroked him up and down, looking into his face for approval after the first few strokes.

Snape's jaw was clenched and his eyes were slightly narrowed, but the look on his face was not of the disapproving kind. Instead, he rocked his hips towards her, and his right hand found its way between Charis' legs where his fingers quickly found that very special spot. He knew exactly what he was doing, and Charis could feel a flush forming on her cheeks and her heart pounding harder and harder as her climax approached with ever-increasing speed.

She gave a small whimper as Snape lowered his head to lick the side of her neck. His fingers applied more pressure, and after a few more deft strokes, Charis found herself trembling. Then it took nothing more than a soft bite right below her ear to send her tumbling into a powerful orgasm. Her muscles spasmed and clenched, and her whole body was shaking as waves and waves of pleasure rolled over her. She didn't even have air to moan.

Snape grunted and wrapped his left hand around Charis' hand, the one that was wrapped around his cock. She still had a firm grip around him but had ceased her ministrations. No wonder. The intensity of her orgasm had astonished even Snape. He was almost surprised that she was still sitting upright. But he needed this now just as much as she had, and carefully, he guided her hand into the right rhythm, eventually increasing the speed of the strokes.

His body went rigid as his orgasm hit, and he moaned as jet after jet of his stringy white cum shot forth, some spraying on Charis' dress and his own robes, some dribbling all over their entwined hands.

He slumped over, panting, and his forehead came to rest at Charis' shoulder. He was still holding onto her right hand and keeping it firmly wrapped around his cock. But her left hand was free, and Charis ventured laying it gently onto his back. To her surprise, Snape didn't even flinch. In fact, Charis wanted to believe that she could feel his muscles relax under her touch.

They both rested like this for some moments, getting their breaths back. What to say? What to do? Charis longed for a kiss, a caress, yes, even some whispered words of love, but she knew she wouldn't get either. Snape had made this clear from the very start. This had been all about lust. The moments they were sharing now, entwined almost like lovers, were more than Charis could ever have hoped for. As was the look in his eyes when he straightened up to rearrange his robes and magically remove the mess he had made on them both. His look was calm, almost gentle, and neither of them had to say a word.

'Let me go, you filthy Squib!'

The high voices outside, further down the corridor, made them both flinch, and Snape spun around, his wand drawn.

'MY FATHER WILL HEAR ABOUT THIS!'

'Your father is rotting away in Azkaban, lad!'

Charis recognised the voices of Draco Malfoy and Filch the caretaker, and when Snape turned back to face her, she saw the angry line between his eyes reappear. She knew he had to go and see what was going on. He was Draco's Head of House, after all. He couldn't stay. And even if he did, it wouldn't be the same any more. The magical moment they had shared had been shattered by Draco's shouting. Now it lay in a thousand pieces, and they would never be able to put it back together.

But before Snape turned to leave, he spoke once again in that low, gentle voice he'd used earlier.

'Be careful, Charis. Your heritage is dangerous. You are a Black and a Muggle, and the only thing Blacks wish for Muggles is death. Do not give them an opportunity to strike. Because they will seize it.'

He brushed a stray blonde lock behind Charis' ear before he helped her down from the table and pulled down her skirt, and the kiss he left on her cheek was so quick and light, it could have been a dream. And Charis just looked up at her former teacher, so overwhelmed by his display of concern and by the tenderness of his gestures she did not know what to say in response. But Snape seemed to know there was nothing more to say because, after one last meaningful look, he turned on his heel and billowed through the library after his errant student.

At the door, however, he stopped once more and looked back.

'The stars,' he said and pointed at his throat as if to indicate a necklace he was wearing. 'Renew the charm. Wear them. The both of you.'

And with that, he threw open the library door and swept out, leaving Charis reeling at what had just happened.