A/N (PLEASE READ): OK, I missed this warning in the prologue. No, this is
not a porn fic, sorry to disappoint you, though if you do not like student-
teacher relationships or evil teachers or vampyres (or vampires) or people
dying then I suggest you do not read this. I warned you I WARNED YOU so
DON'T FLAME please!!!!!!
Chapter One: Like Cats' Eyes
Harry, Ron and Hermione sat in the Defense Against Dark Arts classroom waiting for their new teacher. He hadn't been at the feast.
Heads turned as Dumbledore appeared at the door with a young woman, surely no older than twenty-one years of age. She had soft shocking silver hair that fell to her waist. Her eyes were an icy blue and there was a warm grin on her face. She seemed happy to be there. Harry figured she was new to teaching. She was probably one of those eager, hyper kinds of teachers who want to get involved with every single student.
"This is Professor Ferris. She will be your teacher this year. She's just joined the staff which is why she wasn't at the welcome feast," Dumbledore told the class. There was something about the way he said it… He was suspicious of her. But why?
Dumbledore left Professor Ferris to the class. Ferris's eager grin was wide across her face and her eyes glistened with excitement.
"Right!" she cried. "Now, first, let me lay down some rules and get to know all of you…"
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"So what do you think of her?" asked Hermione. It was a few weeks after their first class with Professor Ferris and they were eating lunch in the Great Hall. "I think she's really good. She's very enthusiastic about what she's doing and seems very interested in what she's teaching. She seems to believe in it a lot. I love passionate teachers, you can really learn a lot from them."
"Yeah, you can really learn a lot…" Ron rolled his eyes. "But she's beautiful, isn't she, Harry?" Harry couldn't deny this.
"She seemed boring to me at first. Unlike Hermione, I don't like teachers who are bright and eager. They get kind of annoying. But you're right, what she teaches you… I don't know, but she speaks with, well, I don't know but it sounds like… experience. And she is really pretty." Harry grinned at his last words. Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Whatever you say, you two. I can't believe all you're interested in are her looks. You two are just so… Well, you're just such… GUYS!"
"Really Hermione?" said Ron. "I thought we were fish!"
"Oh quiet you!" Hermione snapped. "Despite what you say, she's a brilliant teacher."
"I'm not interested in what she has to teach me about defense…" Ron grinned and Hermione shot him a look. Harry burst out laughing.
"Come on, Hermione!" he laughed. "Don't be so uptight! Relax a bit." Hermione sighed.
"Maybe I should relax a bit…" then, a slight smile appeared across her face. "It'll get me ready for the Potions quiz we have after lunch." Ron and Harry stiffened as they remembered.
"Damn!" Harry swore and was rewarded with a look from Hermione.
"I forgot to study!" Ron groaned. Hermione grinned.
"Now who needs to relax?"
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Harry, could you stay after class please?" Harry snapped out of his day dreaming as he noticed people beginning to put their books away.
"Hm?" Was he in trouble? Had she caught him not paying attention? Ron and Hermione gave him a confused glance as they left the room. Ferris smiled kindly as they left. When they did, her head turned to Harry again, her smile gone. Harry frowned.
"Was it something I did, Professor?" Harry asked. Ferris sat down behind her desk and rested her head on her hands. Her face was expressionless and her ice-blue eyes were inscrutable.
"Harry, what did we talk about in class today?" Harry racked his brain. What did Hermione say was on the curriculum for the seventh years?
"Um…"
"I knew it."
"It's not my fault Professor!" Harry cried. Ferris's eyebrows rose.
"Oh really? How so?"
"It's hot in here, Professor. I can't concentrate!" Ferris thought about this for a moment.
"I suppose you're right. None the less, don't make it so obvious." She took off her robes as she said this, revealing a casual, but very lovely, blue dress. Harry blinked. She was a teacher, nothing more.
"Yes, Professor."
"There we go." Ferris gave him a weak smile. She stood up from behind the desk and began to walk slowly, watching him with a hawk's eyes, circling him like a shark. Harry's emerald eyes followed her wherever she went. "You're… what, seventeen?"
"Yes, Professor."
"What's with the formalities?" Ferris asked. "I am only Professor in class. In private, you may call me Layla."
"I think I'd be more comfortable with Professor Ferris." Harry said, uncomfortable enough as it was. What was she doing? She had a sly and crafty smile on her lips and a look of mischief to her eye.
"Very well, whichever suits you best. You're a good young man, Harry. Bright, sociable… handsome…"
"Um… Thank you?" Harry didn't know how to respond to her. His unease increased as Professor Ferris— and that crafty smile— came nearer. Harry held his ground, looking straight ahead now. If he didn't see her, she wasn't there. He didn't turn as her soft pale finger traced a vein in his neck, though he did tense visibly. Ferris laughed.
"There is no need to be nervous, my dear." She spoke with that air she used in class, that of wisdom and experience. Like she knew what was happening and what she was doing. Her crimson lips leaned in close to his ear. "I know all your secrets, Harry Potter."
"Professor…" Harry said, trying to keep his voice calm. "If you're doing what I think you're doing…"
"What do you think I'm doing?" again, she whispered the words in his ear.
"You're my teacher, Layla!" said Harry, using her first name. Layla Ferris smiled.
"There we go."
"You're my teacher!" he repeated. "You can't… we can't… How old are you?"
"Twenty."
"I'm three years younger than you."
"What's your point?" her delicate hand found his chin and gently, she turned his head to look at her. Harry's mouth was open, but he didn't know what to say. He was going to refuse, he was going to run, maybe even tell someone about what Ferris was doing. But when he looked at her, his mouth wouldn't form the words and his legs wouldn't move. She was so beautiful.
"I…" but before he could try and say anything, Layla's lips touched his in a hard kiss. When they finally broke away, Harry still didn't know what to do. Layla was smiling. Unsure of whether to run or to kiss her again, he said,
"Maybe I should go now…" He began to walk towards the door.
"No, stay." Layla sighed and looked at her feet. "I'm sorry, Harry. I just find myself very attracted to you."
"You're very attractive, Professor," said Harry. "And believe me, if you were anyone else… But you're my teacher!"
"No one has to know."
"Won't this effect my grades?" Harry asked but Layla shook her head. Harry sighed. She was very attractive. And she definitely liked him. It didn't have to go very far. Slowly, he walked back over to her and she approached him. When they were close, they stood there for a moment. Layla caressed his cheek and Harry felt her warm hand against his skin as it moved down his neck and then down his back and she pulled him into another kiss.
That was it. She had trapped him. It was done, he could not escape now.
Harry hadn't realized how attracted he really was to the young student teacher until that evening. Why was she so young anyway? Harry didn't know that people that young could teach Defense Against Dark Arts. At least not the way she taught it…
Layla had other things on her mind their lips locked in a passionate kiss. She was hungry. She moved down his neck, kissing it softly when she finally found a nice and plump vein, flowing with the thick, life essence. Slowly and ever so carefully, she bared her pointed fangs and as gently as she could she penetrated his skin, drinking slowly some of Harry's blood. After she had drunk all she needed to sustain herself until the next night, she bit her tongue and let a drop of her own blood fall on the open wound. She did not want people noticing it. Her impeccable immune system would heal the wound over night.
As Harry pulled away from Layla, he noticed that her eyes were an unnatural shade of yellow. They reminded him of…
"Crookshanks…" he muttered. They were like cat's eyes, with large black pupils. But her eye color mattered very little to him. But when he looked again, they were their usual blue color. The cat's eyes had disappeared and she was just Layla, his teacher, his lover… and his destruction.
Chapter One: Like Cats' Eyes
Harry, Ron and Hermione sat in the Defense Against Dark Arts classroom waiting for their new teacher. He hadn't been at the feast.
Heads turned as Dumbledore appeared at the door with a young woman, surely no older than twenty-one years of age. She had soft shocking silver hair that fell to her waist. Her eyes were an icy blue and there was a warm grin on her face. She seemed happy to be there. Harry figured she was new to teaching. She was probably one of those eager, hyper kinds of teachers who want to get involved with every single student.
"This is Professor Ferris. She will be your teacher this year. She's just joined the staff which is why she wasn't at the welcome feast," Dumbledore told the class. There was something about the way he said it… He was suspicious of her. But why?
Dumbledore left Professor Ferris to the class. Ferris's eager grin was wide across her face and her eyes glistened with excitement.
"Right!" she cried. "Now, first, let me lay down some rules and get to know all of you…"
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"So what do you think of her?" asked Hermione. It was a few weeks after their first class with Professor Ferris and they were eating lunch in the Great Hall. "I think she's really good. She's very enthusiastic about what she's doing and seems very interested in what she's teaching. She seems to believe in it a lot. I love passionate teachers, you can really learn a lot from them."
"Yeah, you can really learn a lot…" Ron rolled his eyes. "But she's beautiful, isn't she, Harry?" Harry couldn't deny this.
"She seemed boring to me at first. Unlike Hermione, I don't like teachers who are bright and eager. They get kind of annoying. But you're right, what she teaches you… I don't know, but she speaks with, well, I don't know but it sounds like… experience. And she is really pretty." Harry grinned at his last words. Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Whatever you say, you two. I can't believe all you're interested in are her looks. You two are just so… Well, you're just such… GUYS!"
"Really Hermione?" said Ron. "I thought we were fish!"
"Oh quiet you!" Hermione snapped. "Despite what you say, she's a brilliant teacher."
"I'm not interested in what she has to teach me about defense…" Ron grinned and Hermione shot him a look. Harry burst out laughing.
"Come on, Hermione!" he laughed. "Don't be so uptight! Relax a bit." Hermione sighed.
"Maybe I should relax a bit…" then, a slight smile appeared across her face. "It'll get me ready for the Potions quiz we have after lunch." Ron and Harry stiffened as they remembered.
"Damn!" Harry swore and was rewarded with a look from Hermione.
"I forgot to study!" Ron groaned. Hermione grinned.
"Now who needs to relax?"
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Harry, could you stay after class please?" Harry snapped out of his day dreaming as he noticed people beginning to put their books away.
"Hm?" Was he in trouble? Had she caught him not paying attention? Ron and Hermione gave him a confused glance as they left the room. Ferris smiled kindly as they left. When they did, her head turned to Harry again, her smile gone. Harry frowned.
"Was it something I did, Professor?" Harry asked. Ferris sat down behind her desk and rested her head on her hands. Her face was expressionless and her ice-blue eyes were inscrutable.
"Harry, what did we talk about in class today?" Harry racked his brain. What did Hermione say was on the curriculum for the seventh years?
"Um…"
"I knew it."
"It's not my fault Professor!" Harry cried. Ferris's eyebrows rose.
"Oh really? How so?"
"It's hot in here, Professor. I can't concentrate!" Ferris thought about this for a moment.
"I suppose you're right. None the less, don't make it so obvious." She took off her robes as she said this, revealing a casual, but very lovely, blue dress. Harry blinked. She was a teacher, nothing more.
"Yes, Professor."
"There we go." Ferris gave him a weak smile. She stood up from behind the desk and began to walk slowly, watching him with a hawk's eyes, circling him like a shark. Harry's emerald eyes followed her wherever she went. "You're… what, seventeen?"
"Yes, Professor."
"What's with the formalities?" Ferris asked. "I am only Professor in class. In private, you may call me Layla."
"I think I'd be more comfortable with Professor Ferris." Harry said, uncomfortable enough as it was. What was she doing? She had a sly and crafty smile on her lips and a look of mischief to her eye.
"Very well, whichever suits you best. You're a good young man, Harry. Bright, sociable… handsome…"
"Um… Thank you?" Harry didn't know how to respond to her. His unease increased as Professor Ferris— and that crafty smile— came nearer. Harry held his ground, looking straight ahead now. If he didn't see her, she wasn't there. He didn't turn as her soft pale finger traced a vein in his neck, though he did tense visibly. Ferris laughed.
"There is no need to be nervous, my dear." She spoke with that air she used in class, that of wisdom and experience. Like she knew what was happening and what she was doing. Her crimson lips leaned in close to his ear. "I know all your secrets, Harry Potter."
"Professor…" Harry said, trying to keep his voice calm. "If you're doing what I think you're doing…"
"What do you think I'm doing?" again, she whispered the words in his ear.
"You're my teacher, Layla!" said Harry, using her first name. Layla Ferris smiled.
"There we go."
"You're my teacher!" he repeated. "You can't… we can't… How old are you?"
"Twenty."
"I'm three years younger than you."
"What's your point?" her delicate hand found his chin and gently, she turned his head to look at her. Harry's mouth was open, but he didn't know what to say. He was going to refuse, he was going to run, maybe even tell someone about what Ferris was doing. But when he looked at her, his mouth wouldn't form the words and his legs wouldn't move. She was so beautiful.
"I…" but before he could try and say anything, Layla's lips touched his in a hard kiss. When they finally broke away, Harry still didn't know what to do. Layla was smiling. Unsure of whether to run or to kiss her again, he said,
"Maybe I should go now…" He began to walk towards the door.
"No, stay." Layla sighed and looked at her feet. "I'm sorry, Harry. I just find myself very attracted to you."
"You're very attractive, Professor," said Harry. "And believe me, if you were anyone else… But you're my teacher!"
"No one has to know."
"Won't this effect my grades?" Harry asked but Layla shook her head. Harry sighed. She was very attractive. And she definitely liked him. It didn't have to go very far. Slowly, he walked back over to her and she approached him. When they were close, they stood there for a moment. Layla caressed his cheek and Harry felt her warm hand against his skin as it moved down his neck and then down his back and she pulled him into another kiss.
That was it. She had trapped him. It was done, he could not escape now.
Harry hadn't realized how attracted he really was to the young student teacher until that evening. Why was she so young anyway? Harry didn't know that people that young could teach Defense Against Dark Arts. At least not the way she taught it…
Layla had other things on her mind their lips locked in a passionate kiss. She was hungry. She moved down his neck, kissing it softly when she finally found a nice and plump vein, flowing with the thick, life essence. Slowly and ever so carefully, she bared her pointed fangs and as gently as she could she penetrated his skin, drinking slowly some of Harry's blood. After she had drunk all she needed to sustain herself until the next night, she bit her tongue and let a drop of her own blood fall on the open wound. She did not want people noticing it. Her impeccable immune system would heal the wound over night.
As Harry pulled away from Layla, he noticed that her eyes were an unnatural shade of yellow. They reminded him of…
"Crookshanks…" he muttered. They were like cat's eyes, with large black pupils. But her eye color mattered very little to him. But when he looked again, they were their usual blue color. The cat's eyes had disappeared and she was just Layla, his teacher, his lover… and his destruction.