I've Seen How You Look at Him
I've seen how you look at him.
Glancing casually back to the note I found on my desk, I wonder who could have done this. It's obviously not handwritten, so someone in this class has learned the art of mindwrite. They also used my own supplies to do it, so there will be no way to trace it back to the culprit. I will have to watch them closely - see who's concentrating at odd times.
I have to force my eyes to move past him when I survey the students working. It's obvious someone finds themselves clever. It really won't do to encourage this behavior, not when they use it towards me. Crumbling the paper, I manage a quick transport spell; I'll deal with it later, in the privacy of my office.
What I want to know is - why him?
I've been very careful since the first message was left for me. I don't allow myself to linger any longer. Obviously I was mistaken in the belief that it would stop someone, who'd already noticed, from using it against me. He's just a child, but then so is the person sending the messages.
Was it only yesterday that I received the first? It feels like much longer since I've actually laid eyes on him for longer than a ghost of a second. Once again, I teleport the note to my office. For the time being, I've decided hold to on to them. I will figure out who has done this.
My frustration is easily taken out on the class, knowing that the culprit is receiving the edge of my temper. I feel weary and much older than before my little indiscretion was found out.
Why not me?
Well, that's not exactly something I can answer without knowing who this child is. No one but a child could or would be doing this. It's not like I've never been the object of a student's fascination before, but I've never felt so exposed when it happened. The typical student is much more bumbling in their manner and I'm able to dissuade them as soon as their crush becomes apparent.
This time he or she is not only very creative but also seemingly intelligent. Things will play out and eventually end - one way or another. I only hope the other child involved, the one I have an unnatural obsession with, remains oblivious to my attraction. My discipline must be slipping if a student is able to see through me.
Do you think he would want you, if he knew?
Well, that's obvious; of course he wouldn't. Not only am I the same age that his father would be, I'm the dreaded potions master. I know my reputation with the children. Hell, I've fostered it. I'd much prefer to be feared than befriended by the little cretins. Over the years with them, I've learned to despise them as much as they do me.
On the few occasions that I've felt a child deserved recognition for their knowledge or actions, my reputation preceded me. The suspicion that my attentions received wasn't worth the effort. I'd rather they hate me than be looked at like that.
This time, it's different. He may be sixteen, but he's still a child. In the time he's been here, at Hogwarts, my respect for him has grown. I fought the emotion because I know that only heartbreak will come of it. He's strong in spirit and person, which is very rare in the brats that cycle through this institution. Usually they're either sniveling idiots, like that Longbottom, or spoiled daddy's boys, like Mr. Malfoy. I could never feel the same respect for them because they have done nothing to earn it, whereas Potter has faced down more than most grown men, and come back with the fight to keep going.
In the last year, it's been something else that draws me to him. I push him harder and harder, and I'm sure he'd confidently tell you that I hate him, but sometimes my responses feel too false; if he were to really look, he'd know they were a façade created to save an old letch some pride. Someone else has seen through me now, which is something I hadn't considered a possibility. It's a position I never saw myself in before and am unable to come up with a viable solution.
It's been four days and I have to wonder how far it will all go.
I found out today that he's still a virgin. Did you know that?
Oh. It's something I've tried very hard not to think about. He's never shown an indication either way, but in the dead of night the question of whether he prefers boys or girls, and if he has experience with either, has shot through my head - straight to my groin, much to my discomfort. I didn't want to know. I didn't want to think about it but now I am unable to think of anything else. It doesn't matter if it's true or not.
When will this torment stop, and will we be able to live with the consequences of the outcome?
I'm not. Does that surprise you? I've known how to show men pleasure for a long time. Would you let me do that for you, if you knew which one of your students I am?
No. I refuse to believe that a student just sexually propositioned me. Ah, I've never been one to delude myself. This whole scenario is getting out of hand. I would have taken it to Dumbldore by now, if I weren't also implicated. Whoever is doing this must have a mask of stone. When I walk the isles, being careful in my manner with Potter, I feel no reason to suspect any one of them.
I don't see your attraction to him. Maybe it's just that he's too clean. Do you want to dirty him? Maybe I should do that for you.
God, no. I don't want him dirty. I know the look on my face must be desperate so it's a good thing that most of the students don't look me in the eye anymore. One is watching me. Somewhere - one of them.
I have to get myself better under control than this. It will do no good for him, and I don't know why but I'm sure it's a boy now, to see how easily he can get to me. These are just simple words. They mean nothing.
He surprised me. I suppose that most are too in awe of his supposed power to flirt with him. We dislike each other but just the slightest bit of attention from me makes him blush. It's quite becoming. Have you ever gotten that reaction from him? Did you think you would?
Well. That narrows the possible culprits down to about a quarter of the class, the Slytherin males. I think that he gets on with his own house quite well, even if most are too in awe to get close to him. There are a few of the Slytherin boys who would be quite unable to accomplish mindwriting, never mind have the observational skills to pick up on my unethical feelings and the charisma to get a response from Harry - Potter.
I will have to watch my sixth-year house more closely. I must put a stop to this before it goes too far. Before Harry gets hurt.
He responded quicker than I thought. The poor boy must be starved for attention. I guess it's my luck to strike while he's so vulnerable. Too bad you won't allow yourself to act. I'm sure he would have taken you up on an offer - if you'd moved before me.
I know my own mask is showing cracks. Harry has a sweetly shy smile on his face today. It makes me ache, in my heart and my groin. There are too many "if only's" to name with this whole situation.
He's not good enough for either of us. We're better than him, and he doesn't even realize it. Last night he let me kiss him. Will you want me now that I've had my tongue in his mouth or does it take more than that?
I'm overly harsh to the class today. I need to punish them all, especially Potter. Especially the one who kissed him and feels the need to torture me with it.
The suspects have been narrowed down to four boys. If I hadn't thought it before now, I'd know he was Slytherin. When I find out who it is, I'm going to have a very elaborate punishment for him.
This is sweeter than I imagined. He's definitely inexperienced. Or was before last night. He's a quick learner, and very good with his tongue - a natural talent. I had planned to go slower but I don't think I can. Is your interest peaked yet?
I haven't blown up my own potion in years and it has to be in front of the students. In front of him and my own personal torturer. At least I was able to escape them with a visit to the infirmary. The burns are easily healed but I don't think Poppy can do anything for my pride.
An irascible child, with delusions of greatness, is able to throw years of my reputation away. One simple note placed somehow between my instruction sheets and I'm undone. I'm a disgrace. Just the thought of him doing-
I'm going to need something stronger than Poppy will give me to sleep, so I can face the students tomorrow.
How are you feeling today? I didn't mean for you to get physically hurt. I'll leave you alone for today.
If only that would be enough. A drugged sleep last night means I'm no closer to solving this than I was. I'm watching those four very closely today but there's still nothing.
He was beautiful in his pain; so tight around my cock. I was sweet and gentle as I licked the tears from his face. Ah, if you could have been there. He begged me not to stop, though I know it hurt. It should have been you, taking him - taking me. Is he tarnished enough now? Will you stop thinking about him?
This is going to be the end of me. I wasn't sure that this - this delinquent was telling the truth, but it's obvious from the way that Harry is sitting that something happened. I keep hoping to catch him looking at someone, but so far - nothing. He keeps staring at his hands or cauldron. Every time he moves, a sweet blush paints his face. I'm torn between my hard-on and my rage.
I blew him before class. I've still got the taste of his come in my mouth. Do you want it? I did it for you. Go in to your office - alone. I'll follow.
Choose an ending by rating:
(PG)
My hands are visibly shaking; I can't seem to get them under control. The rage is still equal with arousal but both are greatly increased. How dare he? How dare they? Taking the note with me I turn toward my office. I know everyone is watching me, waiting to see what's going on.
"Mr. Potter. My office. Now."
I'm sitting behind my desk by the time he enters the room.
"Close the door behind you. This is not for the rest of the class."
He does so with reluctance. When I gesture for him to, he takes a seat facing me from across the desk. I study him for a while, watching him fidget with increasing nervousness, before I clear my throat to get his attention.
His head snaps up quickly and I'm able to see what I presume is a love-bite on his neck. Lovely. This is going to be most uncomfortable for him. I don't have to admit to anything, not that he'd believe it if I did, but it will be obvious to him that I know.
The notes are all in the order in which I received them and his face gets paler each time he flips to the next. By the time he gets to today, he's shaking and looking slightly sick; not that I blame him. I feel quite the same.
"This is an obscene and gross misjudgment on the part of one of the students in that room. I would appreciate not receiving an update on your sexual practices, Mr. Potter. Please take your business outside of my classroom."
There. That will remove any delusions from his mind that my part in what he read was true. He's looking down and from his labored breathing, and the occasional hitch, I'd say he's crying. He even does that with grace. I feel like slug slime for doing it like this, but maybe he'll be more careful in the future - the one that won't include me.
(PG-13)
My hands are visibly shaking and I can't seem to get them under control.
The rage is still equal with arousal but both are greatly increased. How dare he? How dare they? Taking the note with me I turn towards my office. I know everyone is watching me, waiting to see what's going on. I ignore them as much as possible, leaving the door to my office open a crack in invitation.
I'm not really surprised to see Draco Malfoy follow me in. I'd hoped it wasn't true but my suspicions were with him. His father has certainly raised a clone; if he's got half as much talent with his mouth as Luscious - ah, Lucius, Harry is very lucky to have been on the receiving end of that experience.
When the door shuts behind him, locked, I push him roughly against it. He's so sure of himself, so sure I'll take him over the desk. I would rather submit to Voldamort himself before giving him or his father that kind of power over me.
"If you ever attempt to blackmail me again, I'll teach you what a cruciatus curse feels like when the wand is shoved up your bum. Do you understand, Mr. Malfoy?"
His surprise bleeds easily through his stony façade, as does terror. I suppose it's to be expected. My hand is closed around his throat. He must be feeling light-headed by now but he nods as much as my tight fingers allow. I release him.
"Get yourself together and rejoin the class. I will forget about this, for now. If you step out of line in this manner again, I'll be forced to show you what made Voldamort pick me to be one of his servants."
He gulps, nodding frantically. I go back to class and it's only a couple of moments before he returns, completely composed.
(R)
My hands are visibly shaking and I can't seem to get them under control.
The rage is still equal with arousal but both are greatly increased. How dare he? Taking the note with me I turn towards my office. I know everyone is watching me, waiting to see what's going on.
"Mr. Potter. My office, now."
His eyes get big and he looks around the room before following me. Neither of us speaks right away, while I attempt to calm myself. The absurdity of this whole situation helps. When I'm no longer shaking, I turn and glare at him so he knows I'm waiting for an explanation.
"How did you know it was me?" I didn't expect him to admit to it so quickly.
"Please. Mr. Potter-"
"Harry. Please, call me Harry?"
"Harry. I'm your instructor. Did you think I couldn't see through the whole charade?" There's no reason for him to know that it was only a guess. "Granted, you took it rather farther than I expected. The whole act was quite marvelously played. I don't really care for your actions, but I would like to know why you did it."
He stares at his shoes for a minute before he pins me with a look that pushes away my rage, and brings arousal to the forefront. I reach behind me, groping for the edge of the desk, before I lean back. I need to control myself before I bend him over it and see just how experienced he is.
"Will you let me show you now?" he asks, reaching for the front of my robe.
I should stop him but, after everything he's put me through, I can't bring myself to push him away. It's been too long, and he's pushed me too far.
Placing both hands under me, I spread my legs and allow him to push aside enough of my clothing to see me; he licks his lips. Our eyes meet one more time before he drops to his knees and takes me into his mouth.
(NC-17)
My hands are visibly shaking and I can't seem to get them under control.
The rage is still equal with arousal but both are greatly increased. How dare he? How dare they? Taking the note with me I turn towards my office. I know everyone is watching me, waiting to see what's going on. I ignore them as much as possible.
I'm more surprised than I let on when Neville Longbottom follows me. He must think I'd summoned him to follow, though I don't think even his puny brain could come to that conclusion.
"What is it, Mr. Longbottom?" I sneer at him.
He hesitates for a moment before moving in to my personal space. I'm surprised into taking a deep breath, but am shocked by the unmistakable scent of sex coming from the boy's mouth.
"What? How?" I'm speechless and his attempt at soothing, a surprisingly lean hand smoothed over my chest, does nothing for my composure.
"Just because I'm useless at potions doesn't mean I have no talent for magic," he states calmly, sliding his hand around my waist, pulling our bodies flush. "You should see some of the things I've learned," is purred into my ear, breaking my resolve.
He may have always been the class idiot, but the knowledge that the mouth, so close to me, was wrapped around Harry's cock not ten minutes ago is too much to take. Grabbing the back of his head I slam my mouth on his, slipping my tongue inside to take as much as I can. The taste isn't spectacularly fine but the image that won't leave my dirty mind makes me more turned on that I thought possible.
I order him to strip, then turn and cast a lock on the door. When I return my attention to him, he's naked and conveniently bent himself over the desk. A quick probe with my finger proves him to be lubricated and loosened. Confident brat.
I lift my robe over my head and open the rest of my clothing just enough to take myself out. With no warning, I pull him back by the hips, seating myself inside.
He's not as tight as I'd imagined Harry but it's the closest I'll ever get - as I'll allow myself to get. I close my eyes and place a hand over his mouth to stifle the whimpers and moans spewing from him. The muffled sounds slot neatly into my fantasy of taking Harry here, in my office. I keep my eyes closed and bite my own lips in an attempt to hold back any endearments that might escape.
It's over quickly and I'm left slumped over one of the children I despise the most. Wonderful. He's huffing along, taking care of his own arousal, and I find it's not too disgusting. When he's finished, we clean our appearance with spells and I clean the scent off of both of us. He seems disappointed with that but I can't afford to let him advertise what happened here.
"Two things for you to remember Long- Neville. Keep this to yourself, no matter what. And, so long as things continue," I gesture towards the stack of notes, "they will continue in here. No more messages."
He smiles slyly and I wonder how he ended up in Griffindor. He's got the makings of a Slytherin, if I ever saw one. If only he were good at potions.
Originally posted at snapeff. quasi- evil. net/ home/ endfest2/ archive/ iveseenhow. html