The Substitute
Theme: #108 (illicit; forbidden; taboo)
Warnings: Underage relationship, questionable consent(?), abuse of position(?)
Disclaimer: I do not own or claim to own any of the characters mentioned below and use them for entertainment purposes only.
Edited: March 5th
It is cruel using him this way, but now that she has managed to get him within her grasp she cannot let him go.
His movements are stiff and ungainly; the edge of her desk presses against his back as his fingers grope blindly over the surface, sending a quill fluttering to the floor, scattering partially graded assignments, overturning a poorly secured bottle of ink so that the contents spread a dark, wide stain on the otherwise pale wood. Though anxiety has only served to worsen the awkwardness that plagues his teenage years, she is amazed to find herself strangely composed. She detects not the slightest quiver or tremble present in her movements; rather as she wraps one hand around the knot of his tie and pulls him closer, as she trails the tips of her fingers down the side of his face, she cannot remember a time when her actions have flowed so smoothly.
The weak, flickering lights of the wall torches throw shadows across his face, but despite this it is easy to see that up close the resemblance is that much more apparent, and she is temporarily struck speechless; her heart clenches with an incredibly bittersweet feeling, simultaneously wonderful and agonizing.
"Professor…" It is not his voice, uneasy and shaky, that she wants to hear—for one brutal moment reality collides harshly with her memories, throwing her thoughts off track and forcibly reminding her who she is with and what she is doing. Like tar, black and thick, the guilt that has been lurking around the edges of consciousness rises up and threatens to consume her; every reasonable part of her screams to stop while she still can, but she stubbornly pushes every doubt away, tightening her grip until her nails dig crescent marks into her palms.
She wants this, she reminds herself, and turning back now is not only unthinkable it's impossible.
When she finally kisses him it is harsher than she intended; she wraps her arm around his neck and yanks him forward almost violently, joining their lips together as he gasps, caught off guard by the sudden action. His eyes close in what might be an automatic response and she is glad because she no longer feels as if Lily is staring accusingly back at her, hurt and angry at this betrayal.
After a moment she allows herself to relax and eventually he follows her lead, going so far as place his ink splattered hands on her waist. When she inhales he smells like the Quidditch field, grass stains and broom polish and sweat, scents that return a thousand faded memories to crystal clarity.
In the end, it is all too easy to convince herself that she is kissing James.
Written for the 30 houshin LJ community. All thoughts and comments welcome.