XXXI: Narcissa's Party

Chapter XXXI: Narcissa's Party

'So glad you are enjoying yourselves, dear friends.'

'You look adorable, Narcissa. And the food was delicious.'

From a well-chosen spot by the window, where he could observe everyone in the room whilst being almost non-detectable himself, Snape watched the lady of the manor socialising easily with her dinner guests. A smile, a toast and a fake laugh. Narcissa Malfoy was indeed the perfect hostess, and her guests enjoyed themselves like kings. They couldn't see the strain she was under, so faultlessly did she play her role. They toasted towards her and made small talk. It was almost like old times. Almost. For Lucius wasn't there by Narcissa's side, the guest list was considerably shorter than it would have been a year ago, and the wine somewhat less expensive. Only Snape knew Narcissa was desperately hoping that soon, very soon, the name of Malfoy would once more be paid the respect it deserved. If the plan regarding Morgana's induction into the Death Eaters' inner circle worked, the Malfoys would be on the Dark Lord's good side again. And then, Lucius would be allowed to return home. Narcissa was certain of it, and Snape knew it was these thoughts alone that kept her going day after day.

Once more, she gave the wizard opposite her a dazzling smile and beckoned an elf to refill his glass. Snape recognised the wizard as a highly valued member of the Wizengamot. He was also deeply inside the Dark Lord's pocket, and Snape guessed that Narcissa had felt obliged to invite the man. Yet for all her charm and politeness, it was clear she had no desire whatsoever to talk to him. Snape could see that her eyes were every now and then darting around the room as if she were looking around for someone in particular. And when she caught sight of him and smiled broader than on her wedding day, Snape knew the emotion she felt for him was genuine.

'Oh, Severus! I was beginning to fear that you would not come.'

She kissed him on both cheeks, and Snape gave a bow.

'I am sorry to have kept you waiting. There has been... an incident,' he said matter-of-factly, opting against telling Narcissa that her son had been acting both petulantly and foolishly and that he had failed to gain the boy's trust yet again. Instead, he kissed her hand, and Narcissa smiled.

'I'll have an elf prepare a plate for you. Do you prefer dark meat or light?'

But Snape politely declined her offer. 'Do not trouble yourself, Narcissa. I have eaten.'

'But you'll have some wine, won't you? Or something stronger, perhaps?'

'Wine would be acceptable,' Snape replied. One glass, not more. After all, he had not come to the manor just to hold Narcissa's hand. He had come to look out for Morgana, just like he had vowed that he would.

Even though he'd just ravished her best friend in the library at Hogwarts.

Snape shook his head. He had no time to reflect on that now; no time to reflect on the inevitable guilt and self-loathing that would follow. What he had done with Charis had not been planned. It had simply happened. Now he had to get his act together. Merlin knew what Narcissa was up to this evening. With any luck, all she had planned was to introduce the last of the Belakanes to pureblood society. Certainly, many of the witches and wizards present remembered Morgana's last name and would praise Narcissa for having taken the girl under her wing. In the worst case scenario, however, the Dark Lord would make an appearance and demand the girl become a loyal servant, simply because her lineage demanded it.

Once more, Snape jerked his head to rid himself of the horrible thoughts that haunted him. Narcissa was not Lucius. Narcissa had experienced first-hand what it meant to be under the mercy of the Dark Lord. She was fond of Morgana. She would not risk the girl's well-being. But still, Snape felt uneasy and wished for little more than to see Morgana and make sure she was alright. Yet no matter how many times he scanned the room, he could not spot her red hair anywhere.

'If it is the guest of honour you are looking for,' Narcissa started, following his gaze, 'I sent her and Grindling for a stroll in the winter garden. They need some privacy, those two. Oh, Severus, it is all working out so nicely!'

Snape could see the genuine glow of happiness in Narcissa's eyes as she edged closer to completing her plans. And although he was relieved that the alliance of two ancient houses was all she was after, he couldn't help but loathe the fact that the man in question was Grindling Gibbons. Yet another blond, well-mannered aristocrat. Why did women fall for men like that? Why did his girls?

'They have grown so fond of each other,' Narcissa continued excitedly, 'and the Gibbons are just as old and respectable a family as the Belakanes. They know the old values. Oh, the Dark Lord will be so pleased. Now, please, excuse me for just a moment. I need to talk to Miranda Mulciber. She is utterly thrilled with the match.'

She disappeared in a flutter of robes, and Snape downed his wine, now wishing for something stronger after all. Merlin forbid Morgana had actually fallen for Grindling Gibbons.

***

'Breathtaking.'

Morgana smiled. She shared Grindling's sentiment completely, but whereas he was talking about the stars that could be seen through the glass roof of the winter garden, she was thinking of the wizard himself. He was wearing robes of blue velvet, so dark that the fabric resembled the midwinter sky. His hair was pulled pack into a simple ponytail. And his greyish-blue eyes sparkled more than the stars. He was beautiful indeed and not just on the surface. His heart, although broken, was pure as gold and the kindest Morgana had encountered in her young life. She loved him dearly, the fair-haired wizard, and wished that one day she could repay him for everything he had done for her. He would say that he had done nothing at all, of course, but Morgana thought differently. He had listened, he had not judged, and he had held her close during a night when the darkness had threatened to swallow her completely. And even during that night, he had not judged her.

'Enchanting.'

Morgana gasped as Grindling took her hand and promptly blushed when she realised that he was looking at her now and not the stars. He had paid her many compliments during dinner, about her dress, her hair. But this was different. They were alone now, and he didn't have to pretend to keep up their little farce. And yet he had not sounded more sincere all evening.

'There is no need to blush, Morgana,' he said and brushed her knuckles with his lips. 'I am not blind. I have seen you change over the last few months. Your dress and hair at our first dinner together might have been Narcissa's doing, and she has probably picked the dress you're wearing tonight as well. But you could be dressed in rags, it would not matter. You have blossomed. You have changed. The look in your eyes has changed. And I think, so has your heart. It has started to heal.'

'Has yours?' Morgana asked.

Grindling shrugged.

'I like to think it has. It's on the way, at least. And when we leave here tomorrow morning, I hope neither of us will ever have to return. I know I don't want to, for sure.'

Morgana nodded. That was their plan, at least. They'd tell Narcissa over breakfast that they were planning to get engaged. That way, Narcissa would think that her plan had worked. And as she didn't want to tear down what she had so laboriously built over the autumn, she would let Grindling go. He belonged to Morgana now, she would think, and Morgana and her bloodline were Narcissa's key to a better life. She could not risk losing the girl's trust by laying her hands on Grindling.

'Shall we go back inside?' Grindling asked. 'I guess we have been away long enough for Narcissa to think that we have been naughty.'

Morgana laughed. Narcissa had indeed sent them to the winter garden so they could be on their own. She had also called after them to enjoy themselves. Surely, she would not have minded if Grindling had bedded Morgana on Lucius' award-winning roses. But he had done no such thing. They had talked and also shared a great deal of silence, and now Morgana would very much have preferred staying in the winter garden. For inside the manor were too many people she wasn't especially fond of. Yet with Grindling by her side, she would manage a smile just as fake as Narcissa's and rub shoulders with what the Malfoys called "the right people". And soon, the evening would be over. Soon, both she and Grindling could drop the act, and the whole charade would be over.

When they returned to the manor house, Morgana noticed that they had been in the garden longer than she had thought. The lights in the dining room were dimmed, and the small number of shadows on the curtains told her that most of the guests had already left. People were standing around in small groups, holding glasses in their hands, probably enjoying some private small talk. Most probably, no one would notice if she and Grindling never returned. But, alas, Narcissa seemed to have been waiting for them in the candlelit hallway.

'There you are, sweethearts,' she chirped as she caught sight of Grindling and Morgana returning. 'Did you have a good time? Oh, of course you have. Look at your rosy cheeks, Morgana. And you're holding hands. How quaint. Come inside now. Have some wine. Mingle. I'll just see to it that we will have some sherry and chocolate in a moment.'

With that, she continued towards the kitchen, giving Grindling and Morgana no other choice than to re-join the party.

They had left a room full of people enjoying their desserts, chattering loudly and toasting to each other, but now the mood was more restrained. The heavy velvet curtains were drawn, there were a few candles burning, and the fire in the grate didn't seem to emit much light either. The air was heavy with the smell of cigar smoke and spirits, and Morgana wrinkled her pretty little nose. She had always been sensitive to smells, which had often been an advantage in Potions class and also came in handy in her Auror training when Moody asked them to identify poisons. But there were too many different scents in the air now. They made her nauseous, and Morgana considered leaving the room again. She could feign a headache. Surely, Narcissa wouldn't mind. But then Morgana's nose caught yet another combination of scents, one she had not encountered for quite some time: sandalwood, musk, dark chocolate and just a hint of peppermint.

Her eyes darted around the semi-dark room. She had hoped that Snape would come that evening. After all, he was one of Narcissa's oldest friends and had certainly been invited. But by the time dessert had been served, she had all but given up hope. Why she had hoped for him to come, she didn't really know. She had Grindling at her side. Surely, she should be content with that. But now that she thought that Snape was close, she could feel her heart beat faster in her chest and craned her neck. Yet before she could make him out in the shadows, the flames in the grate turned emerald. There was a swooshing sound and out of the fireplace stepped none other than Bellatrix Lestrange.

'Now isn't this a cosy little gathering,' she cooed. 'Lots of old friends. And new ones. Lovely. Truly lovely.'

Morgana swallowed. Now that her eyes had become accustomed to the semi-darkness, she, too, could make out which of the guests had lingered. All men, all dressed in dark robes, all wearing the Dark Mark on their left forearm. But that didn't show, of course. And to someone like Grindling, this was just a gathering of wealthy, influential wizards, all sprung from old, respectable families just like himself. He had no idea who those men really were. Hence, the entrance of Bellatrix, an infamous Death Eater, startled him. Or at least, that was what Morgana thought to be the reason for him paling. But as Narcissa entered the room behind them, Morgana was forced to reconsider.

'What is your sister doing here?' Grindling whispered to Narcissa. 'You never told me she was invited.'

There was a tone of panic in his voice and maybe just a hint of fear, too. And as Bellatrix caught sight of him, it was obvious that he had every reason to be afraid. Her dark eyes flashed dangerously, and she closed the distance between them in a blink of an eye.

'You!' she hissed. 'Haven't I warned you that I'd kill you if you ever get close to my sister again?'

'Bella, please. Don't make a scene,' Narcissa appealed to her sister, her delicate white had closing around the dark witch's wrist to prevent her from drawing her wand. 'We have guests, Bella. Important guests.'

Her blue eyes scanned the room, but to her relief, none of the guests were looking in their direction. As so often, the entrance of Bellatrix had made people turn their backs and pretend they weren't there.

Bellatrix gave Grindling yet another hateful look.

'What are you doing here?' she demanded to know.

'I... I am here with Morgana,' he brought forth, tightening his grip around Morgana's hand as if to prove his point.

'You remember Morgana, don't you, Bella?' Narcissa weaved in. 'Lucius sponsored her education. We've become good friends, Morgana and I. Look what a lovely young lady she has become. And now she is to be engaged to Grindling. Imagine the pretty babies they will have. Pureblood babies, Bella.'

Bellatrix's eyebrows shot up, and her lips twisted into a cruel smile as she let her eyes wander over Morgana's figure.

'I do remember that one,' she said, and Morgana felt a cold shiver go down her spine. She remembered Bellatrix, too. All too well. She remembered the taste of her lips, the weight of her breasts. And judging by the look Bellatrix was giving her, the dark witch remembered their encounter as well. But thankfully, she had more pressing matters at hand.

'Why him?' Bellatrix asked her sister. 'Of all the eligible purebloods, you had to choose him?'

'Of course, I chose Grindling,' Narcissa whispered sharply, avoiding making eye contact with Grindling. 'You know he'd do anything for me.'

'And you know perfectly well why he does that!'

The uncomfortable silence that followed this statement was so heavy Morgana almost felt crushed by the weight of it. At the same time, she felt Grindling's grip on her hand loosen, almost as if he was losing the strength to go on.

'Come, you don't want to be here right now.'

Morgana's voice was barely audible, but as she pulled at Grindling's hand, he followed her at once. It was almost as if he had no will of his own, as if he were a lifeless puppet.

She led him down the hallway and up a flight of stairs. The door to Lucius' private study was concealed by magic, but those who knew where it was, could enter without even using any spells. And Morgana had spent enough time in this room to know it well. She knew the position of every book on the shelf, knew in which cabinet Lucius kept his brandy. She also knew that the fireplace was connected to the open Floo. Grindling could Floo to wherever he wanted.

'She has been using me,' he said quietly as the door fell shut behind them.

'You knew that, Grindling. You knew all along.'

The look in his eyes was one of defeat, and Morgana gingerly brushed his pale cheek with her fingers, her heart aching for him. It was one thing to know that the person to whom you devoted your very soul was using your love to make you do their bidding. To hear it from their own mouth was a different matter altogether. Morgana knew how much it hurt.

And Grindling had been hurt enough by Narcissa Malfoy. Tonight, she had gone too far. Now he was mourning all he had lost, gazing down at his shoes, fighting back tears he had no desire to cry, his shoulders slumped in anguish.

'Go now, Grindling,' Morgana said gently and pulled him towards the fireplace. 'Leave this place and never come back. Don't ever think about her again.'

'What about you?' Grindling asked, looking up sharply.

Morgana was touched. Even when his heart was once more breaking, he was still looking out for her.

'I'll Floo home right after you,' she promised and gestured towards the silver box of Floo Powder that stood on the mantle. 'Neither of us has any business here anymore.'

Grindling hesitated but then reached for Morgana's hand, squeezing it gently.

'I wish things had been different.'

Morgana knew that it was an ambiguous statement, yet somehow, she understood. He wished he'd never got involved with Narcissa, never broken Charis' heart, and maybe, just maybe, he wished that they both weren't too damaged and caught up in Narcissa's plans for their relationship to be anything other than pretence.

She squeezed his hand back.

'Me too, Grindling. Me too.'

They held each other's gaze for a few moments, both of them knowing that any words they could say were too feeble to explain what they felt. In the end, Grindling simply kissed her hand and then stepped into the fireplace. In a flash of emerald flames, he was gone.

Morgana watched as the Floo Powder wore off, leaving the fire burning flickering orange. She had promised Grindling that she'd Floo home right after him, but she wasn't ready to leave. Because in contrast to Grindling, the Malfoy she had loved had never said right out that he'd used her. Until the very end, Lucius had claimed that he had loved her, too. And Morgana was beginning to fear that she would never be able to admit to herself that she had always known that he had been lying.

Staring into the embers, she got lost in thoughts and memories, fighting them and trying to hold on to them at the same time. She didn't even hear the door behind her open and didn't care when it once more closed.

'Lovers' tiff, Miss Belakane?' Snape asked in his smooth baritone, watching the red-haired witch's reaction carefully.

Morgana turned around slowly, using the few moments to empty her mind so she could fix her former teacher with an icy blue stare.

'Grindling and I are not lovers,' she clarified with a steady voice that did not betray her disappointment. 'But I am happy to hear that we played our parts well enough for everyone to believe otherwise.'

Snape raised an eyebrow at this revelation. What he had heard from Narcissa, and what he had seen from across the room, had made him believe that the girl had indeed opened up her heart once more. He didn't like Grindling, far from it. But if he had the ability to make Morgana believe in love again, then so be it. It now seemed, however, that her heart was just as closed as it had been since Lucius had torn it in two.

'You mean to tell me that all that time you were out for a little stroll in the moonlight tonight, he never even tried to kiss you? Not even once?' he asked.

A muscle twitched at Morgana's jaw. 'No! If you must know, Grindling has been teaching me about the stars.'

Snape nearly gave a bark of a laugh at this. Instead, his mouth twisted into a trademark sneer.

'The man must be a simpleton, or visually-impaired. Either way, he's a fool for not noticing how exquisite you look tonight.'

Morgana gave the dark wizard a puzzled look. Snape complimenting her was the last thing she expected. Also, this wasn't something she was used to. Only two men had ever complimented her: one in order to trap her, the other because they had both been part of a charade. What Snape was up to, she didn't know.

'Narcissa's little dress-up doll,' she answered in a mocking tone, expertly deflecting his compliment. 'All part of the charade.'

'That may be,' Snape agreed, slowly walking towards his former student, studying her carefully. 'But the robe suits you. As do your curls.'

He meant every word he said. Morgana did look breathtaking that night, just like the pureblood pride Narcissa wanted her to be. Feminine, stately, enticing. She should be going to bed that night floating an inch from the ground from joy. She should be in love. She should be happy. Instead, she would spend yet another night mourning for what she had lost.

Swiftly, he closed the distance between them and looked into Morgana's eyes. He could have forced himself into her mind, if he had wanted to, but he refrained from doing so. He knew what was going on in her head, but he had no idea how to chase away the shadows.

'Why are you still wearing this?' he suddenly asked, reaching for the snake pendent that hung around her neck on a delicate silver chain. He knew it was Lucius' gift, the only one she never returned to him.

Morgana shivered. At first, she wanted to snatch the pendent from Snape's hand. How dare he touch it? It was hers and hers alone. The only gift of Lucius' that had ever meant anything to her. But then she reconsidered. She might have looked at the pendent all dewy-eyed once, but its meaning had changed. Nowadays, putting it on was a kind of ritual. When she put it on, she was donning her shield against the outside world, against anyone who might look at her with kind eyes. Against any man who might come close to her heart.

'The star suited you better,' Snape pointed out, giving Morgana a meaningful look whilst turning the pendant around so it was hanging down her back. 'Much better,' he emphasised.

Morgana swallowed drily as she gazed up into his onyx eyes, and Snape in his turn found himself looking into her cool blue eyes. Eyes that had seen way too much hardship for her eighteen years on the planet and in which he could still see a shadow. The shadow of a man who deserved the Dementor's Kiss for what he had done to her.

'Not all men are out to break your heart, Morgana.'

He cupped her chin gently, preventing her from turning away. He needed her to look at him now so she would understand the full meaning of his words. But to his surprise, Morgana did not even flinch. Instead, she leaned into his touch, got on her toes and...

It lasted only for a heartbeat, and their lips barely touched. Yet when Morgana inched back, she was trembling. How she had dared kiss Severus Snape, her former teacher and Head of House, she did not know. She had been certain that she would never again have either the desire or courage to kiss a man in her life. She had feared that she would never again trust a man enough to engage in such an intimate act. But Snape had always been one to trust. She had always been able to rely on him. And even now, he was still there, not pulling back even an inch. His hands cradled her face as if she were made out of glass, and Morgana realised that she was safe, safe in those hands that had never once let her fall.

Carefully, she got onto her toes once more, steadying herself by putting her hands onto his broad chest. Once more, she kissed him, carefully and timidly at first but then more demanding. She needed this now. She needed to taste him, needed to prove to herself that she could touch a man and still keep control. And Snape did let her take the lead, realising her kisses had become demanding and desperate. Her small hands worked over his black-robed chest, exploring him through the material. He could feel her lips tremble and her breath quicken.

As she pushed her weight against him, Snape started to walk backwards with his hands on her hips. He did not know where they were going and was quite surprised when he bumped against an armchair. So surprised, in fact, that he lost his balance and fell backwards, landing on the cushions, with Morgana on top of him. Their kiss broke, and with a sharp intake of breath, Morgana pulled back, looking confused and slightly scared. What the hell was she doing, she wondered. Her thoughts were a mess. Snape was the man she had always looked up to. He'd always been there for her. All she'd ever had to do was to reach out. She might be destroying the special bond there was between them by taking this further. But if she couldn't trust Snape, which other man would she ever trust?

Carefully, she brushed a strand of hair from his face, slowly inching forward. Her lips were slightly parted, and Snape was quite certain that she was about to kiss him yet again. But in the very last moment, when her face was so close to his that Snape could feel her breath tickle his lips, Morgana lost her courage and turned away.

Snape didn't even frown. The young woman on his lap had suffered so much at the hands of a man. Kissing him had most certainly been the most intimate gesture she had dared make since spring. Whether she wanted to end it there or take things further was up to her. Snape knew that he could not be the one to make a move. Yet Morgana sat quite still, not knowing what to do.

'The choice is yours, Morgana.'

Snape's words weren't much more than a whisper, but they rang out as clearly to Morgana as if he had shouted them into her ear. The choice truly was hers. She could pull back now or in two minutes' time. Or she could carry on all the way to the end. Whatever she chose, Snape wouldn't think less of her. And for her own sake, she had to try at least.

Her breath was hot against the side of his neck, and as she grazed the sensitive flesh with her teeth, Snape let out a soft moan. He was growing more and more aroused, and he was longing to grab Morgana's hips and pull her towards him. But he let his hands rest on the small of her back, caressing it ever so gently. He couldn't be the one to take the lead. This was Morgana's moment.

She was sitting up now, gazing into his eyes. Her fingers swiftly unbuttoned his shirt. Her small hands felt warm against the skin of Snape's stomach, but he also noticed how they were shaking. Shaking so much, in fact, that she failed miserably at unbuckling his belt. Her shoulders slumped, and she gave a sigh of frustration.

'Why don't you use magic?' Snape asked in a thick growl, which sounded as rich as melted butter.

Morgana shook her head.

'No, no magic,' she muttered softly. 'None at all.'

She abandoned his buckle, taking his face into her hands instead. Snape's eyes were glittering in the candle light and fluttered shut when she kissed him. Her kiss was less desperate this time, yet just as passionate. And as Morgana moved her hips forward, Snape gingerly let his own hands glide over her firm bottom, awaiting a reaction. If she struggled, he'd let go. But to his surprise, she ground herself against him, as if encouraged by his touch. Taking this to be permission, Snape squeezed her bottom gently, and the way her hips bucked told him she liked this very much. And indeed she did. So much, in fact, that she found herself trembling once more. From excitement, anticipation or pure lust, she could not tell. But she knew that she was ready now.

Her second try at his fly was much more successful, and both his belt buckle and buttons opened as easily as if they were undone by magic, and in a heartbeat, Morgana had wrapped her hand around Snape's hard, warm length. Her eyes were firmly locked on his, her teeth deeply sunk into her bottom lip, and the way her hand travelled up his shaft made Snape hiss. Merlin, the girl knew what she was doing! If she wanted to, she could make him come undone with a single stroke.

Once more, Snape resisted the urge to pull her on top of him. Instead, he moved his hands up her hips, caressing her waist, slowly moving up towards her pert breasts. He heard her sharp intake of breath and paused, but as she did not even blink, he carried on, gently cupping her breasts and flicking his thumb across the now-hardened nipples. He saw her lick her lips, saw her eyelids grow heavy. She was enjoying his ministrations, so much was certain, and Snape didn't object to hers either. Her little hand was now wrapped around the lower half of his shaft, and she stroked him gently, carefully avoiding the tip. With her free hand, she gathered up her skirt, revealing fine white stockings and suspenders.

Snape groaned as Morgana shifted her weight on his lap. Her face was once more only inches away from his, and his cock was pressed against her inner thigh. All she needed to do was move a few inches of fabric to the side to welcome him. But would she dare?

Her cool blue eyes travelled over his features. The candle light gifted his pale skin with an almost unearthly glow, contrasting beautifully with his onyx eyes. And Morgana lost herself in those pools, not even noticing how her mental barriers crumbled and Snape entered her mind with the most careful little steps.

Do you want this, Morgana? he asked. Do you really want this?

She could still say no. She could still slide down from his lap and walk away. He would not make her go through with the act. She had a choice. She held the power.

Her next movements were slow and deliberate. She shifted her weight, steadying herself with one hand on his shoulder. Her eyes fluttered shut as she lowered herself onto him, and her lower lip trembled as she took him in, inch by inch, all the way up to the hilt. For some moments, she didn't move but only listened inwards. To her relief, the little voice that had kept her from enjoying any kind of intimacy for the last couple of months kept silent.

Slowly, she opened her eyes again. Snape was still looking at her. His hands on her waist were supporting her, his breath was tickling her lips, and as she started rocking her hips, he groaned and exhaled through his nose.

The girl knew what she was doing, Snape thought, and as her grip around his shoulder relaxed and her free hand moved behind his head, he dared match her movements, meeting her with an upwards thrust as she drove down on him. He filled her completely and elicited the most delicious little sound, a mixture between a moan and a sigh, not dissimilar to the sound one makes when waking up after a long, good sleep. Her eyes fluttered shut again, and she let herself fall forward. Her lips made contact with the side of his neck, and as her bottom lifted from his lap, Snape squeezed it gently, rocking his hips in the same rhythm as she. Her breath was hot against his neck, and he felt her hand digging into his hair at the back of his head, heard her panting with the exertion. He could sense that she was closing in on her peak and increased his upwards thrusts, knowing that it was what she wanted as she ground down on him. And as he felt her nails dig into the back of his head, he wrapped his arms tightly around her, partly for leverage and partly for reassurance.

Morgana squeezed her eyes tightly shut. She was desperate for release yet terrified that she would be unable to let go. But Snape's strong arms around her made her feel safe, and as she moved a hand in between them, it only took a few well-placed caresses for her to come undone in his embrace. Softly, she whimpered and let herself be held as her orgasm slowly washed over her. And Snape did not let go. He caressed her back with his hands and laid a gentle kiss on her red curls, even though his heart was hammering away at the height of his own arousal.

With a deep intake of breath, Morgana straightened up and looked into Snape's eyes, and as her muscles started to contract around him, he was almost taken my surprise. Rocking her hips with increasing speed, she squeezed him every time she took him inside, her blue eyes firmly locked onto his, monitoring his reactions.

Snape bit his lip. If Morgana carried on like this, he would not last much longer. But he could not spill himself inside her. The act would be too intimate for them both. Yet he could not see how he could avoid this without upsetting the delicate balance between them. So far, he had let Morgana lead the way. How would she react if he suddenly took charge?

'Do you trust me?'

Snape swallowed a moan as Morgana whispered her question precisely when her muscles once more contracted around him rather expertly. It had not been a question he had expected, and instead of answering, his eyes searched hers as one eyebrow raised in surprise. He could see a mischievous smile tug at the corners of her mouth, and her eyes glittered as she placed a hand on his shoulder.

'Do you?'

'I don't think either of us would be here, if we didn't trust each other,' Snape answered, his voice slightly husky.

Morgana tilted her head.

'No, we probably would not.'

She took a firm hold on his shoulder and lifted her weight off his thighs. He slid slowly out of her, inch by inch, until he was barely left inside her. Yet she kept working her muscles around his tip, and the little hand that she had moved in between them firmly stroked his shaft. She never blinked but watched him closely.

Snape hissed sharply. The pleasure was almost too much.

'I can't...,' he brought forth, struggling to contain himself. 'You cannot...'

'Trust me,' Morgana whispered.

Once more, her muscles contracted around him, making Snape almost lose control. Then she shifted her weight. He slid out of her, and her hand quickly moved up his length. Snape's head rolled backwards onto the back of the armchair. He closed his eyes, and Morgana saw his shoulders slump slightly as he relaxed, heard him growl with pleasure and felt him buck his hips. She could read the signs and worked his cock skilfully, concentrating on the tip. She heard him moan and watched as his hands gripped the armrests of the chair so tightly that his knuckles whitened. She felt his body go rigid and held her breath just like he did, letting him spill himself into her hand only moments later.

She kept stroking him softly, easing him down from his peak. She saw him relax and heard him breathe deeply. His eyes were closed, yet still Morgana lowered her head, glad her hair was long enough to hide her face, so overpowered was she by emotions. She did not know what to feel.

Eventually, Snape opened his eyes, watching the red-haired witch carefully. He was slightly bothered by the fact that she was averting her eyes. Was she embarrassed? Ashamed? Regretful? There was no need for either. Gently, he let his fingers caress her arm in a gesture of reassurance.

'Scourgify.'

Her voice was firm when she cast the cleaning spell, and when she finally raised her head, she met his gaze unwavering. The coldness was gone from her blue eyes, and for the first time in many months, Snape thought that the girl looked at ease.

With a shy smile, she slid off his leg, rearranging her dress as she stood up before discreetly looking the other way to give Snape a chance to arrange his own clothing before standing up, too. It was from the corner of his eye that he saw her unclasp her necklace and wordlessly let it drop to the floor.

'The star suited you better,' Snape repeated quietly. 'It always did.'

He turned to look at her, and she looked back at him, and without hesitation, Snape drew his wand.

'Torquis Evanesca.'

The necklace and the snake pendant both vanished in a small puff of black smoke, but neither Snape nor Morgana looked at it. They didn't need to. They both knew that Morgana had finally cut her ties with Lucius Malfoy. She was free of him now. And soon, Snape would make sure she was free of his wife, too.

'Leave now,' he said softly. 'Do not concern yourself with Narcissa. I will see to it that she does not disturb you from now on.'

Morgana nodded and hesitantly moved towards the fireplace. She had already reached out for the Floo Powder when she once more looked back at her former Head of House.

'Thank you,' she said quietly.

Snape inclined his head, knowing that a hug or even any other kind of affection was the last thing Morgana wanted, and felt slightly relieved, as he was not sure if he'd have been able to give her anything even if she did. They had shared their moments of intimacy. Now both their walls were up again, solid and impenetrable.

'Take care of yourself, Morgana,' he said carefully. 'Enjoy a Malfoy-free life. Spend time with the ones who love you the most.'

And before Morgana could ask just who he meant, Snape strode towards the door.