Written for the August Monthly Oneshot Exchange- Prompt: (word) insatiable

Note: Not encouraging student/teacher relationships.

Title taken from "Apologize" by One Republic

For Mica

Word Count: 1331

Blood. Darkness. Smoke.

Those were the only things she could see.

Her cloak was bloodstained and filthy. Her eyes were bloodshot and dark with pain. Smoke clouded her vision and invaded her nostrils as she waded through a pool of blood.

The darkness wrapped around her in a chokehold and swallowed her whole. The last thing that she heard was a chilling scream and saw a flash of green light.

And then silence.

Amelia woke up with a scream. Her brow was drenched in sweat and her heart was pounding madly against her ribs.

Edgar. The name, stitched together by five letters, burdened her mind. If only she had warned him sooner, that the Death Eaters were coming after him and his family.

Amelia drew in a shaky breath, her muscles tensing as someone knocked on her door.

"Everything all right in there?" a familiar voice called.

Max. Her bodyguard. Ever since Amelia's brother and his family had been brutally murdered, the Ministry had put an Auror to be at Amelia's side constantly to ensure the safety of one of their most valued employees. It would have made more sense to keep changing bodyguards in order to not arouse suspicion, but the Auror Department was currently understaffed due to the war.

"Yes, of course." Amelia's muscles relaxed. "Just a nightmare."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Amelia hesitated, on the verge of responding in the affirmative, before having second thoughts. She wasn't prepared to share this dream with anyone else yet. "No."

"Whenever you're ready, Madam Bones."

His footsteps echoed down the hall and slowly faded away, leaving Amelia to her tortured thoughts.

…

"You're receiving a new bodyguard."

The statement was bland and listless, delivered by the messenger whose name Amelia did not know.

"I'm sorry?"

"New bodyguard." The man did not bother to repeat his entire sentence or deign to remain in the room for longer than a second after relaying the information; instead shuffling out of the room with an expressionless face.

Amelia was stunned. What had taken the Ministry so long? Were they daft?

She pursed her lips as she flipped through a disorganized ream of parchment. Occupying the Head Auror position had been her lifelong dream, but it came at a cost: dealing with incompetent and boisterous youth.

Amelia grunted disapprovingly; this young man, named John Dawlish, had an application full of minuscule errors and boasting about his innumerable accomplishments. Amelia rolled her eyes at the last one: Champion of a Steak-Eating Contest.

As if steak is going to hel you.

Luckily, Amelia was experienced in knocking braggarts like him down a peg, so he should be no hassle.

…

The interim bodyguard arrived at her home on Monday. He escorted her to work and remained outside her office all day, checking the identification of all of Amelia's visitors, including her fellow employees.

She didn't even know his name. The initials on his name tag read E.A.

He looked strangely familiar, but she couldn't pinpoint why.

The following Monday the new trainees entered the Ministry for their rigorous training. Amelia had accepted all but two, but she warned them that all of them might not complete the course. Of course, they all scoffed. As if.

Amelia stifled an exasperated sigh, calling for order.

One boy was more rowdy than the rest. Amelia's sharp eyes picked him out of the group. His dirty blonde hair was tousled carelessly and his body language indicated that he was carefree and untroubled.

A spark of anger ignited inside her. She drew her wand and wordlessly cast Petrificus Totalus on the unruly boy. His limbs snapped together so he vaguely resembled a plank.

The rest of the group fell silent, most out of fear that they would be next. Amelia smiled with satisfaction.

"There will be no misbehavior while I am your instructor. Your teachers at Hogwarts—or wherever you attended school—might've been more tolerant, but I am forbidding it now. Any student caught acting out of line will be immediately removed from the program. Understand?"

There was a general nod of assent, along with a few squeaks of agreement. Amelia nodded.

"Excellent. Now, for your first assignment, I have some reading material…"

…

Amelia sighed heavily as she shuffled through a set of parchment. Eliminating aspirants was never easy; sometimes it came down to the littlest differences that decided whether they advanced to the next stage.

With reluctance, she crossed out the name Jeremy Hancock from the list of potential Aurors. The boy was sweet and generous—almost too generous. When it came to war, there was no time for being unselfish—you had to survive. There was a thin line between life and death.

Stretching out and cracking her knuckles, Amelia retired to bed.

…

The boy who'd disrupted her class the first day turned out to John Dawlish. He walked with a swagger in his step and it infuriated Amelia to no end.

She reprimanded him every chance she received, yet it was having no visible effect on the arrogant young man. She had to grudgingly admit he was talented, but his conceit overshadowed it.

It was a vicious cycle. Everyday he would do or say something to piss her off and then they verbally sparred, which resulted in Amelia handing him punishment. He would do it and somehow annoy her more. The cycle repeated itself, with no foreseeable end in sight.

Gradually, their fights began to become more heated, which prompted them to stay after class and battle it out. Typically, Amelia emerged victorious, but John was insatiable. The next day, he would start a new argument.

Finally, the battles took a dramatic turn. The pair began to attack each other's personalities.

He called her a stubborn hag; she called him a lazy mass of dragon dung, which he countered with immeasurable spite. The insults proceeded to bear more weight, hitting them closer to home.

At last, he was her undoing. He called her a "bitter, grieving woman who can't come to terms with her brother's death and stop living in the past."

The class watched with bated breath as excruciating pain kindled to life inside of their mentor. Her eyes were no longer a steely blue; they were pits of rage.

"How dare you," she hissed, "try to meddle with my personal choices. See me after class."

For the first time, John did not saunter back to his seat; he gulped and stumbled back to his seat with a nervous tremor.

Fury was surging through Amelia's veins, but she forced herself to tame it for the time being. She could unleash her wrath upon the egoistical Dawlish.

Once the lesson was complete and she had successfully educated her pupils on how to separate the Death Eaters from the innocent. She dismissed all of them except for John.

John swallowed anxiously, his Adams's apple bobbing. Amelia stared at it for a moment before she launched into a tirade.

"—no right to disrespect my decisions and—mmph."

She was cut off by a mouth covering her own.

John's lips moved experimentally against hers, testing the waters before he dove in headfirst. Amelia was too stunned to halt him, so he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his rough lips caressing her thin ones.

Amelia slowly felt her body giving in to John's intoxicating scent, the wonderful sensation of his calloused hands gliding up and down her back.

John eventually removed his lips, backing away and awaiting the inevitable explosion.

Amelia dazedly touched her lips, which were still tingling pleasantly. John looked at her with a question in his eyes.

She contemplated all of her options. She'd actually enjoyed the kiss, but snogging him could cost her her prestigious position. But she didn't want to hurt John's feelings.

Oh, to hell with it. As long as they were careful.

With that thought in mind, she lunged towards him.

Sometime during the kiss, he mumbled an apology.

She only kissed him harder.