DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER!

The Kid and I

Chapter 9

It was Friday night and Helen was nervous. After Tom had asked her what she was doing on Friday, she had answered honestly and said 'nothing' whilst returning to copying up the lesson plan onto the blackboard. The next thing she felt had been a pair of hands on her hips and warmth breath by her ear. Whispering how much he missed her and wanted to see her again and everything he wanted to do to her…She couldn't suppress the shivers his voice sent through her. Then all of a sudden he had pulled away and rushed to his seat as a knock sounded on the door.

Throughout the lesson, Helen had been unable to stop thinking about Tom. Since when did a twenty-six year old woman get so excited over a sixteen year old boy? Rolling her eyes in spite of herself as she thought of how desperate she had been acting all week, she leant back in the chair at her desk and picked up the next sixth year essay that she was marking. As she looked at the name in the top left corner, she knew the Fates hated her, seeing as she had just picked up Tom Riddle's essay on the Unforgivable Curses. As usual, it was over a foot longer than everyone else's, with the homework length being two foot and him having written three.

She was dressed in a satin nightgown that finished a few inches above her knees, barefoot and had her silk dressing gown wrapped loosely around her. As she leant back and rested her feet on the desk, her nightgown slipped down and left her cream thighs open to the air. Resting the parchment on her legs, she began to read through it, hardly needing to correct anything as she went. Tom had carefully listed all the Unforgivables and their incantations and required wand movements, and then had gone on to write about each one as an individual. The history of the spell, who invented it and when, what it was most used for, why it was used, were there ever to be any benefits of them…His thoroughness was both amazing and disturbing. All the other students had obviously condemned any and all usage of the spells, saying that they were Dark Magic and Dark Magic had absolutely no place in the world. Whereas Tom said that whilst these spells were known to be 'evil' and widely condemned, they could also have their uses in careful hands. It was almost hard to argue with his logic…

There was a knock on the door. Breaking out of her Trans, she looked up and saw the clock. 8:36pm. Tom had said 9pm. Surely it wasn't him? There was being early to class because you want to get into the teacher's knickers, and then there was twenty-four minutes! Putting the essay down, she pulled her robe closer to her and tied the sash on her way through her private rooms to her office and to the portrait door. Opening the door – there was a portrait on the outside but then there was a door that she had put in (visitors might know the password but she didn't want them just walking in at any time!) she saw that it was indeed Tom. He didn't say anything as he walked in, cupped her face and kissed her deeply. With a muffled protest, she pulled away and closed the door behind him.

"Not in the open, you twit!" She snapped, though not maliciously.

He shrugged and tucked his hands into his trousers pockets. "We're not in the open; we're in your rooms."

"Yes, now we are." She groaned as she walked through to her sitting room. Plonking herself back down into the chair at her desk, she resumed reading Tom's essay. Meanwhile, he ambled through after her, looking around the room. She had clearly redecorated it, since there was no stone floor or walls. She'd changed the floor to dark varnished wood which was covered with rugs of various sizes, though they were all dark red with a variety of patterns. The walls were what you would expect in a normal building, painted crimson with a 'feature' wall with black wallpaper with a red vine pattern. She had kept the stone fireplace, but it didn't look out of place in the strangely decorated room.

He decided to question her about it. "This room is unusual. Is this style from where you come from?"

She nodded with a soft 'hmmm'. "I like the castle look but I wanted something from home. Plus this is more comfortable than stone."

He eyed her leaning back position and bare thighs. "I can see that." She blushed as she felt his gaze. "What are you marking?" He asked as he walked over to her desk, leaning back against it.

"Your essay on the Unforgivables."

"And?"

"You know I can't discuss student grades until they're final. We wouldn't want you influencing my decisions, now would we?" She teased.

He smirked. "No, of course not, Professor."

A minute later, she wrote an 'O' in the top corner of the paper before putting it at the bottom of the pile so he couldn't see. "Well."

He smirked again. "Well. How did I do?"

"You know I can't tell you until I tell everyone else."

He rested his hand on her knee. "What if I asked nicely?" He asked as he slid his hand further up her leg.

She let out a little breath from her nose in amusement. He really thought he would persuade her by touching her knee? He would have to do a lot better than – Oh, he did! He had quickly slid his hand from the inside of her knee to her crotch, giving it firm yet tender rubs under a flush crept up her neck and into her face. She sighed through her nose, her head tilting back as she closed her eyes, allowing the sensations to wash over her. She heard him chuckle softly, tough paid him no attention, solely focusing on the rubbing between her thighs. Abruptly, he stopped.

"Come on." He removed his hand, taking hers and starting to lead her into her bedroom when she stopped him and pulled him back into her soft feminine body.

"Where are we going?"

"Your bedroom, of course."

She smiled. "You think we need a bed every time?"

"Well…Yes."

She chuckled softly. "You pretend to be so grown up but in some ways, you really are adorable." He huffed in annoyance. "You don't need a bed for sex. In fact, some of the best times can be out of the bed."

"Yes, I-I suppose…"

"What? Don't tell me you're nervous. You weren't nervous a minute ago." She teased.

He shook his head. "I'm not nervous."

"Then hop up."

"Pardon?"

She nudged him backwards, making him hitting her desk with his thighs. In reaction, he sat down on it, inadvertently sitting on his class' homework. "Lie back." She ordered softly, standing between his legs and gently stroking his knees through his trousers. Fortunately, Helen's desk was quite large, being over six foot long and four foot deep, allowing Tom to lay back fully, his hips on the edge one side and his head resting on the wood a few inches before it stopped on the other. He shivered. She smiled. "What?"

"Well, the way you're looking at me, it's sort of reminding me of a predator…" He said nervously, unsure of how she would react.

Instead, she simply kept smiling. "A predator? And what is this predator looking like she's going to do to you?"

"She looks like she's going to eat me."

She smirked, making him blush when he realised how that must have sounded. Though he didn't mind a second later when his cock jumped to attention as she walked her fingertips up his leg and to his belt. "Trust me, darling; if I eat you, you'll only beg for more."

And he did.