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The Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom was – well, dark. It was one of those spring nights where the sun fought with all its might to stay tall and proud in the sky. But alas, as always, the purples and blues of twilight gently overtook it.
You sat at the desk nearest to Professor Lupin’s, lips pursed in concentration. Your eyes scanned your finished essay over and over again, quill raised, ready to poke extra periods or dash extra commas. Remus was bent over his own desk, flicking through a pile of first-year papers on trolls. He wore his usual threadbare cardigan and a look of deep concentration.
You found your eyes flicking over to him more often than necessary. Merlin, he was so attractive. You hungrily took in the way his brows furrowed in concentration, the scars that raked across his nose and cheeks, his moustache, and the way it quirked up when he smiled at some first-year's unintentionally hilarious writing.
As if he felt you staring, Remus’s gaze flicked over to you.
Shit. You thought. Caught red-handed.
“Finished?” He asked.
“Yes!” You said eagerly. Clamoring up from your seat, you gathered your finished essay, smoothed the parchment once more, and crossed the room to his desk.
Remus adjusted his spectacles as you set it down, already skimming the opening lines.
You waited for what felt like an eternity, nervously fidgeting with your fingers. Your eyes never left his face, searching for some hint of his reaction.
“It’s good,” he finally said, setting the parchment on the desk before him and smiling at you pleasantly.
You waited.
“And?” You asked imploringly. The corner of his mouth twitched. He leaned back in his chair, folding his hands thoughtfully.
“Very well,” he said, picking your paper up again. “You’ve demonstrated a complete and nuanced understanding of the subject matter. Your argument is clear, your citations precise, and—” he paused, scanning the page once more “—I can’t even find a punctuation error. Frankly, it’s the standard I hold my own work to.”
You smiled, simply glowing under his praise.
“Thank you very much.” You plucked the piece of parchment out of his hands.
Remus nodded once, then regarded you over the rim of his glasses with a familiar, knowing look.
“Y/N,” he began carefully, “while I enjoy your company immensely, you do attend every one of my office hours. And I can say with some confidence that you do not, strictly speaking, need them.”
You shifted on your feet, suddenly fascinated by the edge of his desk. Had you been found out?
“I simply wonder,” he continued gently, “whether there aren’t other activities you might wish to pursue.”
You felt your body relax slightly, then quickly racked your mind for an answer. “I… like learning.”
He smiled, indulgent but unconvinced. “A noble passion. But surely not your only one.”
You shrugged. “I mean, I leave Hogwarts really soon. There’s time for fun after, isn't there?”
He considered that, tilting his head slightly. “Perhaps,” he said. “But it would be an awful shame not to enjoy the many opportunities the castle has to offer while you’re here.”
“I suppose,” you said, only half-listening.
Remus hummed. “You can’t sincerely tell me you spend all your free time studying.”
“I—well. I read.”
He cocked an eyebrow.
“…And I study.”
“So,” he said mildly, “you read, and you study.”
“Well, you make it sound dreadful when you say it like that,” you protested. “I listen to music. I think you can appreciate that at the very least.”
You gestured toward the ancient gramophone tucked against the back wall of his office.
Remus followed your gaze, something warm and nostalgic crossing his face. “That, I certainly can,” he said. He crossed his arms and leaned into his chair. “What do you listen to?”
It took you by surprise. It wasn't often anyone, let alone a teacher, asked about your music interests. You rattled off the names of the artists currently dominating the Wizarding Wireless, growing more animated as you went.
“Oh,” Remus said when you finished. He appeared thoughtful, smiling softly.
You grinned playfully. “What? Are you judging me?”
“Not at all,” he said quickly. “I’m simply realising how much older I am than you.”
Butterflies stirred in your stomach at his words. You quickly stamped them down. Remus glanced out the window for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts.
“I have a proposal.” He said at last, turning back to you.
Your interest was immediate. “Oh?”
He reached into the top drawer of his desk as he spoke. “Consider it a… special homework assignment.”
He emerged with something small and square, stepping around the desk. He nodded toward your hand, which you extended without thinking.
“Have fun,” he said, dropping a square of chocolate into your palm.
You smiled at it.
“And,” he added, retreating to his chair, “do tell me all about it during your next office hours.”
You gathered your bag, nibbling at the corner of the chocolate. “You know, Sir, they say eating chocolate before bed gives you strange dreams.”
“On the contrary,” he said lightly. “I find it gives me rather pleasant ones.”
You paused at the door, smiling back at him. “Well,” you said, “I suppose we’ll see.”
“Goodnight, Miss. L/N.”
“Goodnight, Professor.”
***
You knocked at the classroom door eagerly, parchment pressed to your chest and school bag slung over your shoulder.
“Enter.” Called a muffled voice.
The ancient oak door creaked open to reveal Remus, book in hand, perched on the edge of his desk. The classroom was warm and welcoming as always. Ancient books and artifacts littered desks and shelves, and the long latticed windows beamed golden rays of light on the creaky cedar floorboards.
Remus smiled when he saw who it was, setting down his novel and clasping his hands in front of him.
“Ah, Miss L/N. What can I do for you?”
“I have that new Manticore essay for you, Professor.” He smirked in a charmingly exasperated way.
“Why, I do believe I assigned that paper not four hours ago." You marched up to him, handing him your assignment proudly.
“What can I say, I’m efficient.”
“That you are.” He said, taking the parchment from your extended hand. Even that sarcastic bit of praise made you flush.
To your surprise, Remus didn't even glance at your essay. Instead, he set it down on the center of his desk, right in front of you, and stared at you patiently.
“I think,” He said, watching your confused expression. “I may have an exercise that will prove much more productive.”
“Oh?” You asked, eyebrows raised.
“Indeed. I would like you to read your essay aloud for me.”
You paused, mouth half open as you processed his request. He gave you a quizzical, expectant look of his own when you failed to respond.
“Ok.” You said, finally, regaining your composure. You turned and placed both palms flat on the desk, shifting your weight to one foot as you looked down at your paper.
“Manticores are among the most dangerous beasts in the Wizarding world. Originating in Greece, they possess the head of a man, the body of a lion, and the tail of a scorpion.”
Remus’s eyes burned against the side of your face. You tried in vain to ignore him and continue, a slight flush heating your cheeks. He stood from his perch on the edge of his desk, hands in his pockets, as he slowly walked around the desk.
“The tail of the manticore is exceptionally poisonous, and its venom is used in many advanced potions. The skin, or fleece, is resistant to most charms–”
“Which ones?” Remus said from behind you.
“What?” You said a bit breathlessly. The proximity made you tense, every muscle stiff as if anticipating something. The smell of old books and tea filled your nose. The smell of him.
“Here,” He said, reaching forward to point to the section of parchment you had just read. His outstretched arm and his solid body behind you practically caged you against the desk. He was so, so close. “You write that Manticore venom is used in advanced potions. Which ones?”
“Oh.” You racked your brain, flipping through all the information you possessed in a panic. But you came up empty-handed. “I… don't know.”
“Hmm. Pity.” You pursed your lips. His criticism hit sharp like a pang of disappointment in your gut, but you had no choice but to push it down and continue.
“The, um… the skin, or fleece, is resistant to most charms. There exist two breeds of Manticore. The feline human hybrid and the Insectoid scorpion build. The– ohhh.”
You felt two large, warm hands rest on your waist, soft yet anchoring.
“Is this… all right?” he asked, softer now. Whatever authority he carried in the classroom had fallen away. His tone was now soft and questioning, truly asking if you were comfortable.
You felt practically dizzy. Never in a million years did you think your wildest fantasies about Professor Lupin would come to fruition. He always seemed so professional, never like someone who would return the unrequited advances of a silly seventh year. Your brain worked fast to process what was happening, to make the words fall from your lips so you could answer his question.
“Yes.” You finally said. His hands rested more firmly at your consent, thumbs slowly stroking up and down your sides.
“Good. Then please, continue.”
He wanted you to continue at a time like this? You took a deep breath to steady yourself, gripping the edge of the desk a bit harder.
“The mainstream bread of manticore has, as previously mentioned, human, lion, and scorpion elements. They possess human intelligence and are classified as sentient. They are often aggressive and are known to sing as they eat their prey. They….Oh my god,”
Remus swept your hair over your shoulder, his fingertips grazing the delicate skin of your neck. Before you knew it, he was planting soft kisses down the expanse of your throat. You could feel the heat of him pressed against you, and without even meaning to, you began to melt into the warmth of him.
“By all means, don’t let me distract you.” He hummed against your neck. “This is what you wanted after all, isn't it? To be praised for your hard work? Rewarded?”
“Yes.” You said again, eyes fluttering shut.
“Then,” He whispered into your ear, his breath hot against you. “Keep reading.”
You struggled to read through the remainder of your essay. Remus’s lips against your skin were distracting to say the least. You could feel the brush of his facial hair against your neck and the way his grip tightened on your hips. You pressed your thighs together subconsciously, a futile attempt to stifle the ache building there.
You relaxed into the sturdy weight of his body and could feel the telltale hardness of his erection through his trousers. God, I did that? You marveled to yourself. His hands trailed over your sides, over your stomach, down your thighs, relishing in the feel of your body but never quite touching where you needed.
You reached the final paragraph of your paper and read through the conclusion as quickly as possible.
“Hmmm, a bit rushed. Not to your usual standard.” Remus teased, low and raspy in your ear.
“I don't care.” You sighed, turning around, grabbing him by his shirt collar, and smashing your lips into his. He met you with the same amount of vigor, pressing you against the desk as he kissed you with passionate fury.
Lips glided over one another, hungry and desperate to taste each other. You wrapped your hands around his neck, pulling yourself even closer to him as he bit down on the soft cushion of your bottom lip. You moaned into him, and he took the opportunity to sneak his tongue into your mouth, letting the kiss quickly become more heated.
You shrugged out of your jumper, reluctantly breaking your embrace so Remus could help pull it over your head. As it landed discarded on the floor, your lips returned to his, a flurry of tongue and teeth as you reached to undo his robes.
Remus’s hands found your waist again, and he helped to lift you to sit on the edge of his desk, your paper now pushed to the side, forgotten. Your legs fell open on their own accord, and Remus naturally occupied the space they left, kissing you leisurely as his rough palms roamed over every inch of exposed skin. A fire burned in your core, growing hotter and hotter with every stroke of his hands, every needy breathless kiss. You could feel the wetness growing between your thighs.
His hands ventured further and further up your skirt, slow and teasing. His touch was light, and his fingertips crept higher and higher with every pass. He brushed against the edge of your panties, and you practically quivered with excitement. Remus chuckled at your reaction.
“Please!” You begged, desperate to feel him where you needed him the most. He stopped entirely, and you cursed both him and yourself.
“Who?” He asked, pulling away to watch your face expectantly.
You bit your lip, excited and a bit embarrassed at the taboo of it.
“Professor, please?”
“That’s more like it.” Remus let his fingertips sweep across the damp patch on your panties. He ran his fingers over your torturously slowly as if calculating his next move. “Goodness,” he said with real reverence in his voice. “All this for me?”
“Yes.” You whined and pulled him down by the collar of his shirt to kiss him again. He scooched you forward on the desk and helped you lift your hips so he could rid you of your undergarments. They fell, discarded to the floor, and Remus wasted no time. He dropped right to his knees and began placing searing kisses up your thighs, kneading the soft flesh as his lips traveled towards your center. His mouth was hot against you, the prickle of his stubble was electric, and his light touch stoked the fire building within you.
Anticipation built as he grew closer and closer to where you needed him the most. Your body was on fire, every nerve ending alive and buzzing. Your hands busied themselves undoing your top, desperate to feel the cool air against your skin, to feel fully exposed. And that was when Remus finally reached your center.
Your eyes rolled back at the feeling of his mouth on your slick cunt. Moans and whimpers fell from your lips as he alternated between broad, teasing licks and sucking on your clit. Your fingers tangled themselves in his mousey brown hair, pulling him closer. He devoured you like you were the forbidden fruit in the Garden of Eden, watching each of your reactions, gauging what you liked and didn't, moaning against you like you were the sweetest thing he had ever tasted.
Soon, his long, thick fingers joined the mix, pumping and curling inside you just like you needed them to. You bit your lip to stifle your moans. Remus looked up at you from between your thighs, and you thought you would die at the sight. His green eyes stared up at and the desire within them nearly made your heart stop. God, the pair of you must look filthy. You, sat on your mentor’s desk as he ate you out, blouse undone, breasts threatening to spill out of your bra, and your house tie resting between them. It was simply sinful.
You felt the familiar burning in your core growing hotter and hotter, threatening to consume you.
“Professor, please! I-I’m close!” You pushed your hips closer to him, desperate to feel his fingers in you and his lips against you. It was all too much and not enough. You just needed a little bit more…
His fingers brushed against that perfect spot inside of you, and it was all over. Your head rolled back, and moans escaped your mouth unabashedly as your orgasm washed over you in waves.
You closed your eyes, relishing in the aftershocks, your chest rising and falling with your deep, slow breaths as you came down. Remus finally pulled away. His eyes raked over your form, taking in your soaked cunt and dishevelled appearance. He stood and brushed a lock of hair from your forehead. You opened your eyes to watch him.
“Gorgeous.” He whispered, almost to himself. You smiled broadly, blooming under his praise. Eager for more, to prove how good you could be, you took his hand, the fingers still covered in your juices, and raised it to your lips. Remus groaned as you wrapped your lips around his fingers, sucking and licking yourself off of them. “Look at you,” He smirked. “You know just what to do, don’t you?”
Those words were all it took to reignite the fire in you. You pulled off his fingers with a small ‘pop’ and slid off the desk. You landed on shaky legs, clinging to Remus for a moment before you sank to your knees.
He watched you expectantly as you undid his belt, and you looked up at him with the most sultry gaze you could muster. You were filled with the aching need to please, to show him how good you could be, to hear his praises and moans for you fill the air.
You unzipped his trousers, rubbing your palm over the outline of his hard cock. He threaded his fingers through your hair, pulling your head back gently so he could watch you as you toyed with him. Pulling his boxers down, you moaned just at the sight of him. He was hard and aching, precome already beading on his tip.
You spent just as much time teasing him as he had to you, placing teasing licks and kisses to his tip and long, broad licks down his shaft. Remus was always good at hiding his impatience, but even he had his limits. His grip on your hair grew tighter, his moans of pleasure transformed into groans of frustration.
Just when you figured he had had enough, you relented. You took him into your mouth, hollowing out your cheeks and using your hand to work the base of him. You moaned around the length of him, relishing in the taste of him, the feel of him in your hand and in your mouth.
You pulled off of him when the need for air grew too much, kissing up and down the length of him instead and licking his balls.
“Merlin, you’re doing so well for me.” He said breathlessly.
You smirked. It was amazing how powerful one could feel on their knees. You took him back in your mouth with renewed vigor and looked up at Remus through your lashes. He gripped the edge of the desk with white knuckles, his other hand tangled in your hair. He bit his lip, head thrown back in ecstasy, only small moans of pleasure escaping.
Courage surged through you, and you pulled off of him, still gently working him with your hand. “Come now, Professor,” You said as you stroked him. “Let me hear you.”
“Oh, you dirty girl,” He groaned. You went to take him back into your mouth, but paused as he placed a hand on your shoulder. “Sit on the desk.” He commanded. “I want to see your face as I fuck you.”
Arousal flooded your veins at his words, and you hurried to comply. Sitting on the desk again, you pulled him forward for another heated kiss as he pumped his cock, placing it at your entrance. You gripped his shoulders as he entered you, both of you moaning at the sensation. He paused for a moment, allowing you to adjust, and you took the opportunity to revel in the sight between your thighs; Remus’s cock, filling you up, his large hands braced on your waist. God, you could have finished from that image alone.
He watched your face attentively for any signs of discomfort, and at your nod, he thrust into you slowly. He was tentative at first, waiting for your permission between each movement, but slowly, he began to build a rhythm. Who knew it could feel this good? It was like your body was made for him. Your head lolled back against your shoulder as he fucked you, each thrust feeling better than the last.
You ran your hands over his chest, his shoulder, his neck, desperate to feel him under your fingertips. Remus’s hands gripped your hips, pulling you forward to meet him at every thrust. The sound of skin on skin and the melodic music of your moans filled the room. His lips are all over you, every bit of skin they can find, your mouth, your neck. He pulled your bra down, your tits spilling out, and practically growled at the sight, watching the way they bounced as he fucked you. He wasted no time marking them up.
“You’re taking me so well,” He moaned against you. Your toes curled at his praise. His hand reached in between your bodies to work at your clit, and you thought you would explode at the sensation. “I’m– so — proud of — you.” He said breathlessly, each word punctuated by a thrust.
You felt yourself nearing completion, and from the sloppiness of Remus’s movements, you figured he must be close to. “Oh my god, Remus, please,” You begged, gripping onto his shoulders for dear life. You took it all in. The smell of him, the lust in his eyes, the way his hair fell in his face. Every scar, every freckle, the way his cock filled you up. The familiar heat in your core threatened to burst. “Oh, I’m gonna come, I’m gonna—”
***
Sunlight shone through the windows of your dormitory; it shone through the thick fabric of your bed curtains, seeping in through the gaps between them. The soft chirping of birds reached your ears first, followed by the deep breaths and snores of your dorm mates. You opened your eyes reluctantly, blinking the sleep out of them.
You felt the needy ache in your core and the wetness between your thighs. You sighed, lying back against your pillow.
Blimey, had you really just dreamed that? It was all so vivid! You clung to it desperately as the details slipped back into the realm of unconsciousness, like sand through your fingers. You tried to remember the smells, the sensations, the words you had shared, and the look of Professor Lupin’s face as he had fucked you.
You felt hot just at the thought of it, and a tad bit ashamed at having had such an erotic dream about your Professor. Reaching through the curtains of your four-poster bed, you spied the clock on your nightstand and the leftover square of chocolate from the previous night. The clock read six am.
You groaned quietly, rubbing your face. Oh, why are the good dreams the ones that never last? As you lay there, the arousal between your legs lingering, you thought of what Remus had said in his office last night, the square of chocolate he had laid in your outstretched palm, and the gentle smile he had given you.
Well, you thought as your hand traveled down between your legs, he had told you to have fun, didn't he?