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Is it getting hot in here or is it just you?

Chapter 4

Reader POV

Professor Scamander burst through the wooden doors, which I noted amidst the chaos, seemed to be his trademark entrance wherever he made his presence known. I squeaked almost inaudibly as he regained his balance, adjusting his hands beneath me for better leverage and strode with haste through his chambers. His eyes flickered around the room, debating frantically on which area would be ergonomically sensible for what he was about to do next. My ears became filled with the sounds of his rapid breaths that he parted his lips to accommodate.

"Mm...This will do," he announced, walking to the center of his office. Ever so gently, he placed me on top of his glossy wooden desk, depriving me of the warmth of his body as I unwrapped my arms from his neck. His whole demeanor changed in that instant, transferring me down as if I were a fragile and rare artifact as opposed to how impetuous, yet controlled he was in handling me mere moments ago. Wasting no time, Professor Scamander quickly swept his arm across the surface of the desk, sending the items tumbling to the floor with a loud crash. I yelped, startled at his sudden reckless behavior.

"Sorry," he said, giving me an apologetic look. "but I'm afraid now is not the time to be prim and proper."

I nodded in agreement as he reached into his inner coat pocket, pulling out a small drawstring pouch. Reaching his hand in, he began to fish for items inside, soft clinks of glass faintly heard through the rustling of fabric. I stared in shock as his whole arm disappeared inch by inch into the pouch. With each retraction of his hand, multiple items were brought to view as he placed them on the now vacant space on the desk. "Now where is that...It should be...ah. There it is." He mumbled to himself. It was a vast array of mysterious vials, various herbs, and wound dressing supplies. I watched, awestruck, as they all were assembled out of his deceivingly small bag.

I shifted uncomfortably. "Professor, are you really going to..." I trailed off as I was hit again by the visual shock of his eyes meeting mine.

"Pardon?" He turned to me, head tilted, hands still busy with arranging his impromptu work station.

"Oh-nothing." I shook my head, blinking rapidly as if it could wipe that image of him from my mind.

He paused for a moment.

"We...should get you clean," he suggested.

I choked. "Excuse me. W-we?!"

"Yes,"

I inched back, ready to protest.

"Tergeo," his voice reverberated through the room as his wand finished sweeping gracefully over my entire form, leaving my skin free of dirt and blood.

"Oh, that's what you were implying," I exhaled in relief, inwardly slapping myself for being host to such a filthy mind. I blame the schoolgirl hormones.

He proceeded to remove his trench coat-and woah damn, why did he have to do that? Just clench for dear life at the edge of the desk. There, that'll suffice.

I watched, almost helplessly, as he nonchalantly revealed his powerfully lean and built body. I sank my teeth into my bottom lip, my jaw threatening to drop to the floor as my eyes drank in the sight of his absolutely exquisite masculinity. How could a man with such a youthful, innocent face - have ownership over a well maintained physique like that? He didn't necessarily strike me as the athletic type.

Although I was higher from the ground from sitting on the desk, he still towered above me, his body screaming sex in contradiction to his virtuous mannerism. What else could he be possibly hiding under that vibrant blue trench coat of his?

He redirected his attention to his sleeves, rolling them up over his damp, sun kissed skin that glistened in the candle light. All the while, he was completely and utterly oblivious to my inner turmoil as I grasped tightly my inhibitions. My hands lived vicariously through my eyes as they caressed over his wet dress shirt and vest that embraced to his torso. The way his arm muscles visibly rippled beneath the soaked, expensive ivory cloth of his dress shirt with every steady movement...

Yup. Definitely schoolgirl hormones.

My neck and face tingled, which to my dismay, was far from pragmatic. So I observed his hands as they worked, his movements practiced and surprisingly elegant as he uncorked the two vials in hand and mixed them into one. I noticed the discolored, prominent bite marks and scratches that adorned his fair skin. Each sporadic scar line along his knuckles and wrists tugged at my curiosity to explore his adventures and stories untold.

His long, slender fingers expertly plucked leaves from a plant that nearly glowed with the intensity of its green hues. Gathering the leaves together on his dominant hand, he fused them together, watching at eye level as oil dropped into the mixed vial with careful precision.

"You specialize in Herbology?" I asked, eyes sparkling with fascination.

His muscles tensed at my riveted tone, which had effectively broken his concentration. He gathered his wits and shook his head modestly. "Well, I wouldn't say that I specialize in Herbology in every aspect of the word," he set the leaves down and wiped his hands with a cloth. "But during my travels, I have found that Herbology and Magizoology are intrinsically relative." he answered thoughtfully.

"Mm. I agree,"

He glanced at me, eyebrows raised.

"Do you?" he asked.

"Yes, Professor, I do. I believe that when you're learning about a new creature, you study their environments, habitat, diets, and what could pose as potentially hazardous; to their kind specifically. You study what is vital to their health, and what could help preserve their population, and why they flourish in certain areas of the world as opposed to others." I paused in contemplation, making further correlations of Herbology to Magizoology. "While there are numerous endangered species on this Earth," I continued, "the same threat applies to the very things that grow from its soil. That is why it is imperative to take both classes concurrently." I stopped myself, realizing that I had opened the floodgates of my brain and blabbered for an eternity, offering more information to him than was actually requested.

I braced myself for his vacant expression, or the hurtful, telltale signs of disinterest. After all, men hate it when women speak passionately about, well, anything. But instead, his eyebrows raised further, and a hint of a smile graced his lips as if satisfied with my answer. "Exactly. They are both intertwined in their fates as they rely on each other for sustainability. I-I couldn't have said that better myself, actually."

I felt my face flush again. His unexpected kindness overwhelmed me. I redirected the conversation in order to fill the silence, allowing my curiosity to take over. "What is that potion you're making, Professor? That plant, it looks familiar-I know I've seen it in a textbook, but...I can't seem to pinpoint what it is." I said in defeat, scrunching my face in disappointment.

He raised the vial to my line of vision with a rare grin of confidence on his face. "This...is Dittany,"

I gawked like an idiot. "Y-you mean the plant that only grows in Crete?!"

His gorgeous eyes brightened and he nodded. "The one and only. A gorgeous place, Greece is. Wouldn't say the same about the Sirens inhabit the islands there, though. They have set the standard in my book for their rotten attitudes." he chuckled to himself, tilting the potion and pouring a few drops onto a ball of cotton. "They were quite distraught when they realized their singing did not lure me in the slightest."

I gave him a deadpanned look. "No..." I smirked. "A man NOT intrigued by a half naked beauty sitting alone, wet and welcoming? Do tell," I said sarcastically, slightly envious that he laid eyes on such irresistible beings.

"What?! I-I AM intrigued!" he blurted out defensively.

He froze, as if his own words hit him like a ton of bricks. His eyes dusted over me and he swallowed, looking away from me once again.

I opened my mouth to speak, but he interjected. "W-what I tried to say..." he sputtered, "i-is they ARE intriguing. As magical beings. Not desirable! Also, at the time, it helped that I had absolutely no attraction, and charmed my hearing in order to study them rather than falling victim to their traps. Besides...I am very particular in what I find desirable."

Feeling my persistence growing, I was compelled to have him to elaborate further on what "particular" traits catch his attention. What it is about a woman...that would cause him to lose all resolve? His altruistic voice ceased all of my selfish intentions. "Alright. I'll start with applying the potion to the abrasions on your...erm...legs." He paused as his eyes flickered down, as if measuring how high my shorts were riding up my thighs. "On second thought...Let me heal the scratch on your shoulder." he gestured to my left side.

"Okay," was all I could muster. My face now raging with heat under his careful inspection.

I changed my position to accommodate him, twisting my upper body so that my shoulder and arm were directly in front of him. I assisted further by sliding the top of my sleeve and bra strap down my shoulder. In one swift movement, I ran my hand through my hair, letting all my strands fall to the other side, revealing my bare neck and shoulder. It wasn't until I heard his breath hitch that I noticed the visually intimate position I put myself in. Feeling incredibly flustered, I faced the other direction and waited expectantly. With reluctance, he started delicately patting the saturated cotton along my exposed skin. I heard him swallow again.

"S-so you're...familiar with Dittany?" he asked, voice an octave higher than before.

"Mhm. And I know that only an extremely skilled herbologist would be able to obtain those plants, let alone replicate a viable concoction. For you to make it with such ease," I sighed dreamily, my excitement emanating. "I can only imagine the extent of your knowledge and magical abilities. How your experiences refined your skills. For me its almost intangible," ignoring his lack of response, I continued. "For you to apply that very same enthusiasm in every aspect of your life. It's as if you excel in virtually anything...you set your...mind...to..." I slowly stopped my rambling, realizing that I must have made a complete and utter fool of myself. I chanced a glance in his direction, noticing that he stopped moving and he stared nowhere in particular, wide eyed, as if he could not believe what I said out loud.

"Oh. Um, I mean. Yeah, Dittany is really cool." I said indifferently. Trying to salvage the irreparable damage I must have made with my uncontrollable blabber.

He shifted awkwardly and cleared his throat, focusing his attention back to my cut like it would disappear if he squinted hard enough. "J-just uh. A-a bit more. Won't leave a scar. I-I promise." he stuttered, still seemingly bashful...or perturbed. One of the two.

I pursed my lips together, determined to prevent any more incessant monologues from escaping my mouth. He leaned back, checking his work and nodded in approval. He examined the red stains on my shirt, and located a prominent streak of blood just below my bra line.

He loosened his tie uncomfortably appearing as if he had to gather the courage to say what he was going to say next.

"There's a bad abrasion there," he began. "You'll-" he coughed. "you'll-you'll have to...uh...I have to...you're going to have to..."

"Hm?"

"Y-you're going to have to...emm...lift off your shirt..." he said slowly.

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My heart skipped a beat.