AN: A couple people asked if I was going to be continuing this story, so I decided what the hell, why not. Here's the second chap. Hope you like! Also, I totally don't own this.
"Using occlumency and nonverbal spells in tandem is an incredibly effective, though also incredibly difficult, brand of defensive magic. Very few wizards are able to do it, much less master it enough to be able to maintain it for any useful amount of time during battle -"
As Professor Lupin continued to lecture, Hermione found herself once again struggling to pay attention in her DADA class. Well, struggling to pay attention to anything other than how adorably 'Professorish' Lupin looked at the moment. He had shed his thick outer robes to reveal slightly worn, tan trousers, and a dark, navy blue sweater. Hermione shifted a bit in her seat, leaning over and resting her chin comfortably on her hand. This afforded her a better position from which to study her Professor, and she found this a much more enjoyable activity than actually listening to what he was saying. Not that she didn't like to hear him talk! He provided endlessly fascinating conversation, and the sound of his voice was rather pleasant in and of itself. She let it wash over her now, enjoying the soothing steadiness of it, and the wry amusement she could hear in his tone every once in a while as he interacted with her classmates.
His voice was comforting, calling to Hermione's mind the feeling of sitting before a pleasantly warm fire in the Gryffindor common room. He had sounded so different last night, when he was commanding her, and whispering wicked instructions in her ear. There had been an underlining, authoritative edge in his voice, one that had compelled her to do anything he told her to. She found herself flushing hotly at the memory of all the things she had done last night at Lupin's bidding. All the things she had let him do to her. She had acted like a harlot! But Merlin, it had felt good. She never would have thought that she would enjoy relinquishing complete control like that, but it had felt almost natural with him, liberating and intoxicatingly sensual. Hermione could still feel the way he had dragged his teeth across her ear lobe, and she found herself arching slightly in her chair just at the memory.
She sat up straighter in an effort to disguise her arch, but Lupin spotted it.
"Are you alright, Miss Granger?" he inquired, the mild concern in his tone belying the look of wicked amusement sparking in his tawny eyes. "You look a little flushed."
At this pronouncement, about half the class turned to peer curiously at her, and Hermione found herself turning an even deeper shade scarlet. She shot a burning glare at Lupin, and the corner of his mouth turned up slightly.
"Merlin, Hermione, what's wrong with your face?" Ron asked loudly, tactless as ever.
Leaning rather uncomfortably close to her in an effort to examine her now beet red face, Ron declared, "You look like Ginny when she's been dosed with Pepper-up!"
"Yes, thank you, Ronald!" Hermione said tightly, shoving him away in irritation. "I'll have everyone know that I'm perfectly fine. It's just a little warm in here!"
"It's November," said Ron flatly. "In Scotland." The class tittered, and Hermione huffed, crossing her arms over her chest defensively. Leave it to Ron to be observant for once at exactly the wrong time.
"Alright, alright," said Lupin, raising his arm in order to get their now divided attention. "I think that's all for today. Remember to read the section on occlumency in chapter 10 by next week. Dismissed."
Chatter broke out along with the scraping of chairs, and shuffling of papers, as everyone began to pack up to leave. Hermione was adjusting her bag and preparing to head to Charms with Harry and Ron when Professor Lupin called out to her.
"Miss Granger, a moment if you please."
Hermione stilled, gesturing vaguely for Harry and Ron to go on without her, before turning around to face Professor Lupin. As the last of her housemates gathered their things and began to trickle out of the classroom, Hermione found herself locked in an intense staring match with her Professor. The unspoken tension between them was thick and palpable. Her stomach was abuzz with nervous anticipation, and her breaths were coming quick and shallow now. His gaze was challenging and possessive, as if he could claim and hold her just by the power of his intent stare.
Only when all her classmates had finally vanished, and she found herself alone with him, did Hermione approach her Professor. She strode as confidently as she could across the flagstone floor until she was standing before him. He was perched on the very edge of his desk, leaning casually back, legs slightly parted. Against her will, Hermione found her eyes darting down to his crotch. She was perfectly aware that he would see, but his legs were spread so enticingly that it was as if he was begging her to stare. Entirely unaware of herself, as if hypnotized by the slight bulge in his trousers, Hermione slowly licked her lips.
Lupin coughed lightly, and the sound managed to jar Hermione from her trance. With yet another blush blooming on her cheeks, she quickly redirected her gaze to her Professor's face.
He raised an eyebrow at her, and her cheeks heated further still, but she refused to look down in embarrassment.
"I just wanted to remind you of your detention tonight."
"I remember, Professor," Hermione said softly, but in a tone heavy with double meaning.
"Good," he said, seemingly satisfied with her answer. There were a few moments of tense silence, before Lupin suddenly observed, "I noticed you're wearing a new perfume."
Confused, Hermione opened her mouth to tell him that she actually wasn't wearing any perfume, much less something new, but before she could her Professor continued.
"I like it," he said huskily, easing himself off his desk and pushing himself towards her, invading her personal space. "It's," he paused significantly, and sniffed the air near her neck, "musky."
Realization dawned. He could smell her arousal. Of course he could, werewolves had highly overdeveloped senses. He had probably been smelling it on her all hour. No wonder he had looked so damned smug!
"You should wear it tonight," Lupin breathed against her neck, lightly grazing his nose against the sensitive area, making Hermione shiver.
"I- I will," Hermione stuttered, overwhelmed by his proximity.
Lupin pulled back abruptly. "Good," he said, his voice normal again, no longer husky. He moved further away from her, back behind his desk. "I'll expect you to. And I hope you'll remember what I'll expect you not to be wearing."
He reached forward and opened one of his desk drawers, extracting from its depths the pair of white, cotton knickers that she had been wearing last night.
Hermione watched in fascination as her Professor twirled her knickers idly around one of his fingers. She could vividly recall the feeling of that finger slipping underneath those very knickers, just last night, as her Professor teased her mercilessly. Hermione could feel herself begin to sweat. The memory of that digit slipping inside her had her shifting uncomfortably as her panties became noticeably wet. She could almost feel the rough pad of his thumb as it circled her clit.
Professor Lupin was still twirling her knickers, watching her with a knowing look on his face. He was getting off on this, and the fact simultaneously turned her on and made her want to punch him in the face a bit. She was going to be miserably uncomfortable for the rest of the day, and Lupin knew it. In fact, he appeared to be reveling in it.
"It would certainly be unfortunate if I had to confiscate anymore of these pretty, little scraps," he said lowly, and then he raised her knickers to his face, and inhaled deeply.
Oh. My. Merlin. Absolutely mortified, Hermione turned and dashed from the room.
Hermione contemplated herself nervously in the shiny reflection of Professor Lupin's office door. She had been incredibly paranoid walking up here for her detention, certain that everyone she passed would be able to tell she wasn't wearing underwear. It was one thing to walk back to her common room at midnight sans knickers, because barely anyone was around at that time of night. But as of now it wasn't yet curfew, and she had passed plenty of people on the way up here. She had even been forced to endure an excruciatingly awkward conversation with Ernie Macmillan when she had run into the boy on the second floor. One simply should not have to talk to Hufflepuffs when one wasn't wearing any underwear.
But here, standing in front of Professor Lupin's door, Hermione could admit that paranoia hadn't been the only reason she had almost worn knickers. The thought of Lupin punishing her for misbehavior when he found out she had disobeyed him wasn't an entirely unappealing one. In fact, the thought of what he might do to her was one that had her lower stomach tightening. But in the end, the fact that she really didn't want to loose anymore of her knickers had been the deciding factor.
Steeling herself, Hermione took a deep breath and knocked on her Professor's door.
"Come in," came the call from within, the same as it had the night before. Hermione wondered what was in store for her this time.
Slowly easing the door open, she cautiously edged inside. Professor Lupin was at his desk, calmly grading papers. When he heard her enter the room, he set down his eagle feather quill and motioned for her to come forward. Hermione approached him hesitantly, her eyes fixed firmly on the thick, burgundy carpet that coated the floor of his office. She was feeling extremely embarrassed over what had occurred this afternoon, and found herself unable to bring her eyes to her Professor's. If she looked at his face, all she would be able to see was him with her knickers pressed up against it. She still couldn't believe he had done that! Somehow, after everything that had happened with him last night, the fact that he had unabashedly brought her knickers to his face to smell them seemed the most embarrassing thing that had happened yet. Her face hadn't returned to a normal color until well after third period. Harry and Ron were both now absolutely convinced that she was ill. Hermione wasn't entirely convinced herself that she wasn't, in fact, suffering from some malady. A lust induced trauma perhaps?
"I'm glad to see you're wearing the perfume," Professor Lupin said, getting up from his desk and circling around it till he was standing behind her. Two bright pink spots appeared on Hermione's cheeks, whether from his proximity or his observation she wasn't sure. "Let's see how well you followed my other instructions. Lean forward."
Feeling somewhat mortified, but excited nonetheless, Hermione leaned forward. Was she in for another round like last night? Would he fuck her relentlessly against his desk once more? She tensed in anticipation. But all Professor Lupin did was lean down, peer up her skirt, and verify that she had indeed followed his second set of instructions.
"Good girl," said Lupin, patting her soundly on the rump before walking over and resuming his seat behind his desk.
Despite the fact that her Professor was treating her as though she were some vaguely intelligent animal that had behaved well, Hermione felt a jolt of pleasure at his patronizing words of praise.
"You may stand," Lupin said, and Hermione straightened up. She forced herself to meet her Professor's eyes, and found herself entranced by the look of potent lust that she found in them.
Crooking a finger at her, he motioned for her to come around to his side of the desk. On unsteady legs, Hermione made her way over to stand about a foot away from him. He spun his rather impressive black leather office chair around so that he was facing her.
"You've been very inattentive in my lessons lately, Hermione," he chided. "I think tonight you'll have to make it up to me. Show me how attentive you can be." He paused, and then said more sharply, "On your knees."
Hermione let out sharp intake of breath, before slowly sinking to the floor before her Professor. She stared at his crotch in a combination of nervousness and curiosity. It was clear what he expected her to do, but she had no idea how to go about this. Should she just reach out and touch him? That seemed too bold a move, and she couldn't bring herself to execute it. Should she use her hands? Her mouth? Both? She had never done this before. She was frozen with the idea of doing something wrong. For lack of ability to do anything else, Hermione simply stared at the ever growing bulge in the center of his trousers.
After what seemed like an eternity to Hermione, Professor Lupin leaned forward and began to undo…his shoelaces?
For perhaps the first time in her life, Hermione Granger was well and truly baffled.
Unable to stop herself she sputtered out, "Wh-what are you doing?"
Continuing to calmly remove his shoes, her Professor addressed her. "I wouldn't have expected such a question out of you, Hermione. You're usually very quick to pick up on the obvious," he said, tugging the shoe from his left foot. "I'm taking off my shoes."
"But…why?" Hermione asked, still mystified.
He shot her a glance, before moving on to work on his right shoe. "You're going to be giving me a foot massage. It gets very tiring being on my feet all day. And if you keep speaking without my permission, I'm going to get out my ruler and make that cute, little bottom of yours match your face in color."
Hermione immediately clamped her mouth shut, neglecting to mention that he had spent most of the seventh year DADA lesson sitting on top of his desk, not standing. She thought this comment would be unwise, especially given the bright, red mark that still adorned her arse as a reminder of last night. A foot massage? That was…different. Although, she was just as much of a novice at foot massages as she was at giving head. She supposed you just…rubbed?
Lupin had finished removing his shoes, having set them on top of his desk with his socks tucked neatly inside. He was now leaning back in his chair, peering at her expectantly. "Well, Miss Granger," he said, an ounce of irritation flashing in his voice, "I'm waiting."
Hermione sat back on her heels, and transferred her Professor's bare feet to her lap. She was pleased to note that they did not appear to stink, and that his toe nails were neatly clipped. Deciding that she might as well just dive right in, Hermione grasped his right foot and began to knead its sole. As she continued to work her thumbs against the rough pads of his foot, Lupin let out a content sigh. Apparently she was doing something right.
After spending a few more minutes on his right foot, Hermione switched her attentions to his left. She began giving it the same treatment as his other foot, listening intently for the pleasurable sounds her Professor made that let her know he liked what she was doing. When she kneaded a particularly sensitive spot just below his heel, and Lupin let out a low, guttural moan, Hermione found herself blushing. This wasn't exactly what she had pictured when she fantasized about being on her knees before her Professor, but John Travolta was right about one thing; there was something incredibly intimate about giving someone a foot massage. It was actually quite sensual in a way. As Hermione progressed further and further with the massage, discerning which spots would elicit that same guttural moan from her Professor, she became preoccupied with another area of his anatomy. It seemed Lupin agreed with her and John Travolta on the foot massage matter, because as she continued to work over his feet the bulge in his trousers was growing more and more pronounced.
She watched, gripped, as his member began to strain noticeably against the fabric constraining it. Unconsciously, Hermione's mouth began to water.
"Miss Granger, if you find yourself so fascinated by my cock, perhaps you'd like to demonstrate your attentiveness on it instead of my feet."
Hermione's eyes widened in shock, but feeling braver now that he had invited her, she reached out and first undid the buckle of her Professor's brown, leather belt. She then slid the button free of its hole. She was intensely aware of the sound of her own heavy breathing in the charged air. Slowly, very slowly, she dragged down the zipper that was the last remaining barrier between herself and her Professor's manhood.
As soon as it was able, Professor Lupin's cock sprang forth from his pants. It stood at attention, large and impressive under Hermione's awed gaze. Tentatively, Hermione reached forward and stroked it once up and down. It twitched in her hand, and experimentally Hermione stroked it again, faster this time. Lupin let out a groan, his head falling back against his chair. Hermione continued to pump up and down the length of his shaft, faster and faster as she gained confidence and found a rhythm that he seemed to enjoy. She reached forward with her other hand to lightly cup his balls, careful to be very gentle with them. Lupin's breathing was growing erratic, and Hermione found herself greatly enjoying the effect she was having on him. She could see a clear fluid beginning to leak out of his tip, and she found that she wanted to taste it. Leaning forward on her knees, she darted out her pink tongue and swiped it over his tip.
"Holy fuck," her Professor gasped, staring down at her with hooded, lust glazed eyes.
She had never heard him curse in such a way before, and she wanted to make him do it again. Determined, she leaned forward and languidly licked the length of him, swirling her tongue around his tip and then taking him full on in her mouth. She bobbed eagerly up and down on his cock, taking in varying amounts of him each time. She lapped at his tip, licking up every bit of moisture he released. Then Hermione took him as deep into her mouth as she could and moaned around his dick. The vibrations seemed to unhinge her Professor, because he growled primally and grasped the back of her head. He was now controlling her pace, guiding her mouth up and down around his cock. She continued to hum and suck frantically until she felt his cock jerk once more in her mouth, before releasing a spurt of hot, salty liquid. Hermione gulped quickly, swallowing every last bit of her Professor's cum before releasing him with a slight, wet pop.
They stared at each other, both flushed and panting. "You may go now, Miss Granger," Lupin said breathlessly, removing his hand from the back of her head. Hermione found that she missed the weight and warmth of it.
There you go, the obligatory blow job chapter, and also something in there for the foot fetishists out there. Points if you get the reference. Please review!
