As Hermione glanced at her new teacher, she couldn't help but think that there was a mix-up in the documentation, and she wasn't talking to a professor, but some kind of gang member.
'Come on, girl, don't let discrimination get to you. You're better than those smug purebloods who think they could catch anyone,' she tried to console herself, but that didn't exactly help her confused mood.
"I don't have all night, Miss Granger, I need to finish my exercise," he said, his tone sharp enough to cause a confused stir in her, and the view that she was receiving was not helping.
'How could someone have that much muscle,' she thought absentmindedly, carefully ignoring the link between the view and the stirring she felt. "I'm sorry professor, I come here about your classes."
"An indecent proposal already, Miss Granger. Most wait until the classes start and they fail their first exam."
Hermione felt flares of anger invading her heart, with an intensity that wouldn't have surprised anyone with even passing familiarity with her reputation. "How dare —" she started, only for her words to die when she caught his wide smirk.
"Calm down, little miss, it was just a joke," he added while Hermione was busy ducking her head in shame, realizing just how quickly she could fall into such a joke and linking that to the unconscious bias she was feeling.
She was determined to do better.
Darion was fighting to keep his smirk contained as he watched the poor girl bounce between ideas to avoid the imaginary pitfalls of discrimination. It wasn't the first time he had dealt with such an approach, but the intensity certainly caught him surprised.
The intensity of her self-consciousness was certainly surprising, something he was more than happy to abuse to the limit.
"Miss Granger, as much as it's fun to yank your chain, why don't you tell me why you decided to visit at this ungodly hour and interrupt my workout?"
Her blush got even more intense under his sharp tone, ticking his instincts to dominate. While she was busy gazing at the floor to avoid his eyes, he sneaked another look at her body, applying his grand experience to visualize the body that lay underneath her robe.
She was a luscious fruit to devour, Darion decided as he did his best to undress her with his dark eyes, his cock twitching.
"I have talked with Professor McGonagall," she whispered, her tone hesitant as she realized the awkwardness of her long delay, and tried to break it. Darion said nothing, leaving her with the responsibility of dispelling the discomfort, enjoying every second.
Just not as much as what would ultimately follow if he got what he wanted.
Hermione took another deep breath before she continued, the lack of response unsettling her. "I had a talk with her, about your teaching assistant, and I learned that she hadn't assigned one, so I applied myself."
Darion was glad that she was looking at the floor as she did so, because there was no way for him to hide his excitement at the statement. She had delivered him a gift that was much greater than he had been expecting.
He just didn't want to show that to her. "You decided to bypass me as a decision maker completely and used your contacts. What a great welcome," he said, unsettling her even more.
"No, no, no!" she gasped as she looked at him, her gaze wide. "Of course, you have the right to reject it, professor. I was just trying to make an offer, to be available. I didn't want any … misunderstanding … between us."
"Ah, I understand. You're trying to ascertain your consciousness while offering it in a way that made sure I would reject. The gossip was not wrong, you're a smart girl, Miss Granger," he said, deliberately highlighting her kind offer in the worst possible light, pushing the envelope enough that anyone would protest.
Well, any rational person, as the brunette girl in front of him was distracted by her own desire to prove that she was not a bigot that she just jumped at answering. "No, professor!" she gasped as she finally raised her gaze and captured his eyes, her determination thick. "I'm more than happy to take the role."
Darion chuckled. Messing with her was fun, but it was time to push her in a more fun direction. "Let's assume that's the truth," he said, unable to prevent himself from squeezing one last mocking trick. "Do you really think that you're capable of working as my assistant?"
The mere suggestion that she might not be capable of such a task was enough to trigger her fury once more, this time a cold one. "I would like to think that I'm more than capable of acting as a teaching assistant," she said with a cold voice.
"Ah, good. So you got the greatest grade in your exams for Defense class. Outstanding, if I remember correctly."
Just like that, her anger was gone, replaced by shock. "Extraordinary," she whispered suddenly as shame invaded her tone. Darion said nothing as she turned and started walking away.
He only opened his mouth when she was in the doorway. "You're lucky that I don't put that much stock on grades. Your performance in the war, on the other hand, is much more interesting." She turned toward him, surprised.
"Your supposed performance, at least," he said.
"W-what do you mean, supposed performance," she said, the flare of enthusiasm quick to die under his insinuation.
"I don't put much stock in stories, Miss Granger. They have a tendency to get embellished. I'm far more interested in the practical results. I'm willing to take you as my teaching assistant, assuming you can handle my practical examination."
"Of course," her answer came immediately, which didn't surprise Darion any. "When do you want to—" she started.
"Now," Darion said as he dashed forward, dashing to complete the great distance between them.
Her expression of shock was understandable, as she found herself being rushed by a hulking black man with no warning, in a situation that she only expected a calm discussion. To her limited credit, she managed to react when he was halfway, but before she could finish her spell, he was already in front of him.
"Impedimenta!" she shouted, which would have worked excellently to throw him away, if he hadn't managed to pull the wand off her fingers before she could finish it. While she looked at him, gaping, he grabbed her arms and separated them, pushing her against the door, their bodies close enough to touch.
"W-what are you doing?" she gasped in shock, her breathing getting wild as she froze under his touch and panicked. A perfectly rational reaction under the circumstances. Too bad it prevented her from reacting further, instead letting her stay in his arms passively.
"Testing you, of course," he answered, but rather than letting her go, he pressed forward, squeezing her between the door and his muscular chest, enjoying the panic and fear growing on her face.
"T-that was not a duel!" she gasped, which was an interesting choice, and Darion was expecting her to ask to be released. Not that he had any problems with it if she wanted to prioritize that.
"Of course it wasn't," Darion answered. "You should know that duels have hardly anything to with self-defense. Or wands that matter," he said as he leaned forward a bit more, squeezing her against the wall.
The night was developing in a promising direction.
Hermione was confused and angry.
She was confused, because locked against the wall, she was dealing with a weird influx of emotions.
And, she was angry, because her new teacher had just cheated on the exam and forced her to fight before she was ready to. Of course, she had enough real experience to know that it was more relevant to reality, but her option was to either get angry at that, or focus on the confusion she was feeling.
She chose anger. It seemed less complicated.
"There's a difference between war and a controlled test," she countered, less because she believed it, and more because she wanted to distract herself from the confusing infusion she had been dealing with.
"That, I disagree," he answered as he finally pulled back, and Hermione felt her feet fully pressing the floor once more. "However, it was still better than I had been expecting, so we can assume that you passed the test … with a grade of … Acceptable."
"Acceptable!" Hermione found herself gasping reflexively as the grade of assessment hit her worse than an actual slap, though that didn't prevent her blush from spreading as she did so. "Sorry, professor," she found herself muttering.
"The first stage," he said. "We still have a few more tests, and that will allow you to pull your grades up if you can perform well. Of course, that assumes that you're willing to work hard and show—" he continued, only for her to interrupt him.
"I accept," she said, almost reflexively, unable to resist the temptation of fixing her grade despite a voice on the back of her head shouting that she was making a mistake."
"Good, then pick your wand and stand in the middle of the room," he ordered sharply, and Hermione found herself following that…
Darion couldn't believe the ease she was following his orders, just because she had been triggered by the mere suggestion that she had received a barely-passing grade, in a situation that wasn't even an official test.
She was truly someone that treated being expelled worse than death.
Amusingly, he could see that she was getting slightly uncomfortable, more than aware of the implications of the half-naked bodily contact, but she was so desperate to prove herself, she was ignoring that with all of her power.
She might not be aware of the extent of it, but Darion was too experienced in dealing with sexy white chicks to miss that shift.
He watched as she leaned and picked her wand, a move that highlighted the size of her booty despite the loose robe, and that was certainly a respectable size.
Especially for a white chick.
"Now, let's test your endurance. Do you know how to burpees," he asked, and seeing her blank look, he had shown the move. It was a simple one. First a jump, then falling down to pushup position, doing one then going back to his feet, and jumping again…
He repeated that ten times, just enough to develop a light sheen.
"W-what does it have with Defense," she asked, but Darion was happy to note that she was having trouble keeping her gaze away from his chest.
"Simple, whether magical or physical, all combat requires endurance. So, either a hundred burpees, or a three-mile run," he offered, very much aware that she would choose burpees, which sounded considerably easier.
Unfortunately for her, sounding easier and actually being easier was two different things.
She put her wand on the nearest surface before starting. Unfortunately for her, the problems hit immediately, in the form of her robe, getting tangled with her legs.
"Come on, Miss Granger, we don't have all day," he commented, and she followed that direction. "Remove the robe," he ordered, doing his best to act authoritative.
Of course, there were many ways of solving that problem with magic, or Darion assumed so, but luckily, Hermione's habit of listening to the professors came useful once more, and she removed her robe.
Underneath, she was wearing a simple skirt and shirt combo, both loose and large enough not to reveal too much. Still, the skirt left a hint of flesh before her stockings took the task, and her bosom was large enough to show its presence through the loose shirt.
Beautiful enough to confirm that he wasn't wasting his time…