The Diary of a Hogwarts Professor

Sat, 19 Feb 2005 23:58:56 GMT

Just because I feel badly about being so slow to update:

Ask me anything you want: about any part of my fics, already written or not.

(No time limit. Whenever you might happen to wander over here, feel free to ask away.)

A tiny little sample from Unbalanced Equations chapter eight

Sun, 10 Oct 2004 21:57:58 GMT

I was trembling with rage when I rejoined Remus in the street. “Why is that man following you?” he asked.

I glanced over my shoulder. “He’s my security escort.”

“Your security escort?” Remus frowned. “What did you do, Anna?”

“I called the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic a toad, I think.” He raised an eyebrow. “Can we please just leave?”

“Of course,” he said, taking my arm.

“Dolores Umbridge is the most horrible person I have ever met. She had already decided she wasn’t going to listen to me before I even arrived.” I told him what had happened. By the time I had finished, we were well down the road and I was in tears. “I’m so sorry, Remus. I never should have thought I could do this. She was right: I am no one of consequence.”

He stopped walking abruptly and turned me to face him, grabbing my shoulders and giving me a little shake. “Don’t you even think that! You are amazing and wonderful and you did everything you could. It isn’t your fault that the government is run by people like this Umbridge woman. It means everything that you tried.”

“But I didn’t accomplish anything!” I wailed. “Nothing has changed at all.”

“Maybe not.” Oddly, he was smiling. “But it doesn’t matter. I love you. I know you said you didn’t want me to ask you this until we could do it legally, but we’ll just find some way to make it legal.” Quite suddenly, he dropped down on one knee, right there in the middle of the pavement.

“Remus, get up,” I hissed. Several Muggles had paused to watch the spectacle.

Remus just grinned and said in a loud voice, “Anna Vector, will you marry me?”

A cookie

Fri, 03 Sep 2004 03:40:34 GMT

“What’s in the box?” Remus asked on the walk home from Christmas Eve dinner. “Is it for me?”

“How old are you again?” I asked, amused. I hidden his gift with Mrs. Vablatsky, as it was something I knew I’d have a hard time keeping from him for very long. It was now carefully charmed so that he couldn’t smell it or get any other clues as to what it was until he actually opened the box.

“It’s almost midnight, you know.”

“It’s only half past ten.” I laughed. “We’re waiting until morning, Remus.”

“Fine,” he grumbled. “We’re getting up early, though.”

“Good. Brunch is at ten.”

“Who will be there? The Vablatsky’s of course, and Mr. Fortescue?”

“Yes, and Tom from the Leaky Cauldron and Madam Malkin and her son and any other neighbors who don’t have big family things to go to. We’ve done it for years.”

“That’s a nice tradition.”

“Mina loves it. She gets loads of people complimenting her cooking. And it reminds Dad of Mum. She’s the one who started it when they first got married. She loved to do things like that.”

“You know, I almost feel like I know your mother. There are pictures of her all over the house, and your father talks about her almost as though she’s just on an extended holiday.”

“I used to wonder why he never even tried to find someone else after she died. I wouldn’t have minded a stepmother if she made my dad happy. But now I think I understand why he didn’t. He’s never stopped being in love with her. He would feel as though he was being unfaithful.”

Remus frowned thoughtfully. “If something should happen to me, don’t do that. Find someone else who loves you.”

I laughed nervously. “Just don’t let anything happen to you, then. I don’t want anyone else.”

“I suppose it’s all right if you think that now, but if it comes down to it, remember what I just said. Promise.”

“I don’t want to promise that, Remus. I don’t even want to think about it.”

“I know you don’t, Anna. But it doesn’t hurt to be prepared.”

“Yes, it does. It hurts to even think about being without you.”

“Don’t, then,” he said. “Just promise to remember this conversation if, by some circumstance beyond my control, you find yourself without me. Please?”

I nodded slowly. “Just don’t, okay? Don’t do anything dangerous that will make me remember.”

“I’ll do my best, but if the things that happened in June mean what Dumbledore thinks they might, I won’t be able to keep out of it. I owe it to James and Lily and Harry and Sirius.”

“You mean what Sybill said about You-Know-Who’s servant? Everyone knows she’s a fraud, Remus.”

“She’s been right before. If she is this time-“

I didn’t let him finish, but stopped him with a forceful kiss. “I won’t think about it. I won’t!”

“You’re right,” he said. “It’s the holidays. Time to think about all the wonderful things we have to be thankful for, and the things that make Christmas so nice. Like presents.” He grinned suddenly, making him look like an eager little boy waiting for Father Christmas. “What’d you get me?”

I managed a small smile. “You’ll just have to wait until Christmas morning like everyone else, Remus Lupin.”

“Killjoy.” He stuck his tongue out at me and laughed.

“You’re going to keep after me to tell you right up until the last minute, aren’t you?”

He shrugged. “Probably.”

I noticed Remus’ hand inching toward the box I held. “Are you trying to take this box from me?”

“Of course not,” he said indignantly. “I just want to hold your hand.”

“Oh, really?” I asked suspiciously. “Even though both hands are clearly needed to hold this package?”

“Oh, is it heavy?” he asked innocently. “Would you like me to carry it for you?”

“No, thank you. We’re home. You may open the door for me, though.”

He held the door as I entered the house and went to put the box under the tree, Remus close behind me. “Still sad?” he asked quietly. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I know you didn’t.” I pulled him close and kissed him. “I’m fine.”

“Are you really fine?”

“Of course I am. It’s Christmas.”

“No, it’s not. It’s not Christmas until tomorrow. Otherwise, you’d have to let me open my present, right?”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Remus.” I couldn’t help but laugh with him. “Let’s go to bed.”

“Well, at least I get to unwrap one gift tonight,” he said, sliding his fingers along the buttons on the back of my dress.

“You can unwrap me any time you want to, holiday or not.”

What makes me laugh?

Sat, 21 Feb 2004 05:45:52 GMT

Lots of things make me laugh. Sometimes, the hardest thing is not to laugh when I want to but shouldn’t. Students can come up with the funniest things when they’re confused, but it wouldn’t help if I laughed at them. I usually manage to keep it contained, but it can be very difficult at times.

The Weasley twins make me laugh. They remind me very much of Bill, who made me laugh when I was a schoolgirl. Bill, however, was a bit more restrained than Fred and George are. Neither of those two will ever be made Head Boy. (Although if they were, that would make me laugh, too.) I suppose I can afford to be amused by them, as they don’t take Arithmancy and I don’t have to deal with them in the classroom, but I think they really liven this place up. Minerva, I’m sure, would beg to differ, but I’ve seen her mouth twitch at some of their antics. For her, that is as good as outright laughter.

Remus makes me laugh; you probably wouldn’t think so unless you knew him well, but he is very funny. He has a rather odd sense of humor that I don’t always understand, but I think he’s funnier when he isn’t trying to be, anyway. (Please don’t tell him I said that. It might hurt his feelings.) Even when I don’t understand his jokes, he makes me smile because he’s trying to make me laugh. It’s hard not to love a man who wants you to laugh at him.

Severus makes me laugh, too. He’s so entrenched in his grouchiness; I can’t help but find him funny. (Seriously, don’t tell him I told you this. He is a little bit scary when he’s really grumpy, and he hates to be made fun of.)

If you could have dinner with anyone in all of history, who would it be, and why?

Sat, 07 Feb 2004 00:23:56 GMT

That’s easy, although I’m sure the questioner is expecting an answer like Shakespeare or Queen Victoria or Merlin. But the one person I would most love to have dinner with is my mother. I miss her.

I have a million questions to ask her, things I didn’t think to ask when I had the chance. Did she love any man other than my father? What was she like when she was a young woman? Did she ever want to do anything with her life besides marry Dad and run the shop with him? Why did she only have one child? Did she want more children after me? What would she have named them, if she did? Would she be horribly disappointed if I don’t have any children at all? Did she know that I loved her?

I was fifteen when Death Eaters killed my mother. She was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, and it cost her her life. It cost me my mother. I will never discount the power of simple bad luck, and I know there is evil in the world.

I’d like to have one more meal with my mother, if only to tell her what I learned from her death: if you love someone, tell them. Because they might be dead tomorrow. It’s a statistical certainty.

My favorite guilty indulgence.

Mon, 02 Feb 2004 05:57:10 GMT

To be perfectly honest, I spend far more money than I probably should on books. I love books.

I love the way they feel in my hands, so full of the promise of entertainment or information. There is nothing so tantalizing as the weight of an unread book, waiting to be opened and consumed and, hopefully, enjoyed.

I love the way they smell, especially old books. To my mind, the scent of an old book is the scent of history. There is nothing sweeter than the musty, dusty fragrance of a library or a secondhand bookshop.

I love the look of a well-loved book. I don’t really have the time to do it now, but when I was a child, I would read my favorites over and over again, until I could almost recite them from memory, even now. I can find those books on my shelves without even reading the titles: they are the ones where the lettering of the covers is no longer legible, and the corners have been worn to smooth curves.

“Get your nose out of that book, darling. Go out and play,” my father would say. I would go outside to please him, but I would often take my books with me. In the pages of Treasure Island, Pride and Prejudice, or He Flew Like a Madman, I was no longer myself: I became a pirate, a Muggle girl looking for a husband, or the fearless Quidditch player Dai Llewellyn. Even now, I can lose myself for a little while in the pages of a novel. That is well worth a few Galleons, if you ask me.

Muse: Professor Vector
Fandom: Harry Potter
Word count: 272

How did you lose your virginity?

Mon, 26 Jan 2004 01:38:29 GMT

Well, It was the night before I left Hogwarts. I won't mention the boy's name, because you all know him and he might not appreciate me sharing this personal moment with everyone. I do so love red hair, though.

Anyway, it was his first time, too. He was very sweet, and what could have been horrible and awkward turned out to be a nice memory...

The charm on the stairway to the girls’ dorm meant she had to be the one to go to him. She imagined Godric Gryffindor’s reaction if he knew what was about to happen in his tower and had to stifle a giggle as she crept up the spiral staircase to the boys’ dorm. She was certain that one escaped giggle would lead to hysterics, she was so nervous and excited and a little bit terrified by what she was about to do.

He was waiting, as promised, just inside the door of his room. “Shh,” he whispered, his lips touching her ear as he took her hand, led her across the circular room to his bed, and held the drapery aside for her. She sat cross-legged in the middle as he climbed in, grinning, beside her. “Hi,” he said at normal volume.

“Are you sure no one can hear us?” she whispered.

“Positive. Charmed the drapery myself. No one can open them from the outside except me and they block sound from both sides.” He squeezed her hand and smiled. “I promise. Listen.” A loud, rumbling snore from the boy in a bed across the room filled the air until he closed the hangings and abruptly cut off the noise. “Trust me?” He was still smiling, but there was a slightly anxious look in his eyes.

She smiled and squeezed his hand in return. “Of course I trust you. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

“I thought you were here because you couldn’t resist my manly charms.”

“Well, there is that,” she laughed. “But mainly I just didn’t have any other plans.”

“Oh, I see how it is,” he joked. “You were just bored.”

“Yes, that’s right. I was bored, so I decided to find someone to give my virginity to.”

“Yeah. Me, too.” A grin flashed across his face before it assumed an uncharacteristically solemn expression. “You don’t have to, you know. I’m not pressuring you, am I?”

She shook her head. “No. I want it to be you I do this with. You’ve been my first for almost everything else, you know. My first real date, my first really good kiss, my first real boyfriend.”

He chuckled. “You do know that we’re both setting impossibly high standards for all future relationships, don’t you?”

“I certainly hope so,” she laughed. “I didn’t sneak into your dorm to have a mediocre experience.” She took two small vials from the pocket of her dressing gown before she took it off, and handed one to him. “Not to ruin the mood before we even get started, but drink this. It’s, er, you know. Protection.” She coughed and turned very red, concentrating on opening her vial of potion.

“Oh. Right.” He blushed equally hard and opened his own vial. “I’ve never heard of a potion that we both take. Usually it’s either one or the other.”

“Well, this one has certain, er, special ingredients. To help us, ah, you know. Enjoy ourselves.” He hadn’t thought either of them could blush any more than they already were, but she was nearly the same shade as the hangings around his bed.

“Oh,” he said again, gulping hard before he could down his potion. “I should have known that you would research the matter.”

“Well, my father is an apothecary. There are all sorts of potions in his shop.” She drank hers quickly.

It was a good thing he had already swallowed. “You didn’t get this from your father, did you?”

She choked slightly. “God, no. I had our house-elf send it. She won’t tell him a thing.”

“That’s a relief. I wouldn’t want your father after me.” He smiled at her with that lopsided, wicked grin that had worked its way into her heart.

“I can’t believe it’s our last night at Hogwarts. I’m going to miss you.” She laid her head on his shoulder and sighed.

“You can come to Egypt with me, you know.” He put his arm around her. “Gringotts still wants to hire you. I know you got better marks on your NEWTs than I did.”

“You know I can’t. I already accepted the job at that school, and I don’t want to go so far away from my dad. He’d be so lonely if I did.”

“Your dad can have some of my brothers if he’s lonely,” he laughed. “Mum won’t miss them.”

She tilted her head up to kiss him. Surprised, it was a moment before he began to kiss her back and only a few more moments before his hand slid beneath her nightgown. This was not unexplored territory; they had been together more than six months, and he knew her ticklish spots, the places that made her squirm with delight, and, just recently, how to get her to make the small sounds that had them both longing for more.

Of course, now that he actually had her in his bed, he wasn’t quite certain exactly where to begin. The warmth of her bare skin against his fingers did nothing to help him think rationally, and he was completely lost when they broke apart from their kiss and she pulled her nightgown off over her head. It was the first time they’d had sufficient privacy for anything more than touching, and he couldn’t take his eyes off her. He had never seen a real, live, almost-naked woman before, much less one that was so close to him. He was gaping like an idiot.

“What’s wrong?” she asked quietly, covering herself with her nightgown. “Am I repulsive?”

He tried to speak, but nothing came out on his first attempt. He swallowed and tried again. “Repulsive? Are you joking? You’re the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.” He gently pulled the rumpled fabric from her hands and tossed it aside before removing his own pajama top. When he kissed her again, the sensation of her breasts against his bare chest was something he couldn’t believe he had never felt before.

He moved his mouth from hers and down across her chin and along her throat. He paused and lifted his eyes to hers as though asking permission to go further. She smiled and nodded ever so slightly before he would move on. He continued slowly until her firm beast was in his mouth and he was reveling in the salty-sweet taste of her skin.

She leaned back, wondering at these new feelings coursing through her. She raised her hand to stroke his hair, his brilliant red hair that fell so softly against her pale skin. She tried to be quiet, but she couldn’t stop the soft moan from escaping when he moved his tongue against one nipple as his fingertips brushed lightly against the other.

Her hand slid down to stroke his cheek as he raised his head to look at her. “Is this all right?” he asked.

“More than all right,” she answered. His sweet concern confirmed her belief that it was right to be here with him, right to do this with him, right to have this experience with each other. Needing to be kissed, she found his mouth again. Her hands came to a rest at the waistband of his pajama bottoms. She hesitated before slipping her hand under the elastic.

“Dear Merlin,” he breathed as her fingers brushed against him. She had done this once before, for a few feverish moments in a deserted classroom. He thought it might kill him if she stopped: he thought it might kill him if she didn’t. He opened his eyes to see her studying his face intently. Her hand stopped moving when he grinned. “You’re making all sorts of mental notes, aren’t you?”

“Maybe.” Her cheeks flushed to a brilliant shade of scarlet. “I can’t help it. I just want to make sure I’m doing it right.”

“Well, you’re definitely not doing it wrong.” He lie on his side next to her. “Maybe you should wait until a little bit later for that, though. Otherwise, I might be finished before you even start.”

“Oh, sorry.” She jerked her hand away as though she were burning him.

“Nothing to be sorry about,” he said, looking at her very seriously. “We’re both new to this, so we’ll just have to share whatever we know about it with each other, right?”

“I- I suppose,” she stammered, still blushing furiously.

“For example,” he said, touching her breasts again lightly. “I figured out the way you like to be touched here all on my own, but I might need your help with other areas.” His hand rested briefly on her stomach before moving lower to feel her though thin fabric. He had never felt such wonderful heat before, nor heard anything quite so arousing as the tiny squeak she made when he rubbed his fingers lightly against her. The thought of how she would feel without this last sheer layer of clothing was nearly his undoing.

“Are you all right?” she asked softly, her hand on his cheek again.

“Erm, yeah,” he managed to croak. He cleared his throat. “Fine.”

“You looked like you couldn’t breath for a second there.” She looked rather concerned, which made him smile. She really was a very nice girl, and he liked her a lot. The fact that most of his friends thought she was odd and clumsy and too interested in books to really be interesting only made him like her more. He knew he was lucky to have found a girl he could not only talk to about important things like Arithmancy and Quidditch, but whose smile turned his stomach to jelly and his cock to stone.

“I don’t think I was breathing just then,” he admitted. “I was wondering if you like this as much as I do.” He pressed against her for a second, making her gasp in surprise. “I think you do, but tell me if I’m wrong.” She shook her head wordlessly as he slid his fingers under the fabric. “Is this all right?” he asked, looking steadily into her eyes, searching for any sign that she might want him to stop.

She nodded slowly, and reached down to slightly adjust the position of his hand. “Here,” she whispered breathlessly.

He concentrated for a moment, letting his fingers learn how to make her breath come in small gasps. He stopped when she whimpered slightly, the sound making his erection almost painful. Her eyes were closed, her mouth slightly open, her cheeks flushed; he had to kiss her.

She had been enjoying what he was doing to her so much, it seemed that it should be illegal.

[Error: Irreparable invalid markup ('<i?no>') in entry. Owner must fix manually. Raw contents below.]

Well, It was the night before I left Hogwarts. I won't mention the boy's name, because you all know him and he might not appreciate me sharing this personal moment with everyone. I do so love red hair, though.

Anyway, it was his first time, too. He was very sweet, and what could have been horrible and awkward turned out to be a nice memory...

<lj-cut text="(NC-17)I snuck up the staircase to his dorm...">
The charm on the stairway to the girls’ dorm meant she had to be the one to go to him. She imagined Godric Gryffindor’s reaction if he knew what was about to happen in his tower and had to stifle a giggle as she crept up the spiral staircase to the boys’ dorm. She was certain that one escaped giggle would lead to hysterics, she was so nervous and excited and a little bit terrified by what she was about to do.

He was waiting, as promised, just inside the door of his room. “Shh,” he whispered, his lips touching her ear as he took her hand, led her across the circular room to his bed, and held the drapery aside for her. She sat cross-legged in the middle as he climbed in, grinning, beside her. “Hi,” he said at normal volume.

“Are you sure no one can hear us?” she whispered.

“Positive. Charmed the drapery myself. No one can open them from the outside except me and they block sound from both sides.” He squeezed her hand and smiled. “I promise. Listen.” A loud, rumbling snore from the boy in a bed across the room filled the air until he closed the hangings and abruptly cut off the noise. “Trust me?” He was still smiling, but there was a slightly anxious look in his eyes.

She smiled and squeezed his hand in return. “Of course I trust you. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

“I thought you were here because you couldn’t resist my manly charms.”

“Well, there is that,” she laughed. “But mainly I just didn’t have any other plans.”

“Oh, I see how it is,” he joked. “You were just bored.”

“Yes, that’s right. I was bored, so I decided to find someone to give my virginity to.”

“Yeah. Me, too.” A grin flashed across his face before it assumed an uncharacteristically solemn expression. “You don’t have to, you know. I’m not pressuring you, am I?”

She shook her head. “No. I want it to be you I do this with. You’ve been my first for almost everything else, you know. My first real date, my first really good kiss, my first real boyfriend.”

He chuckled. “You do know that we’re both setting impossibly high standards for all future relationships, don’t you?”

“I certainly hope so,” she laughed. “I didn’t sneak into your dorm to have a mediocre experience.” She took two small vials from the pocket of her dressing gown before she took it off, and handed one to him. “Not to ruin the mood before we even get started, but drink this. It’s, er, you know. Protection.” She coughed and turned very red, concentrating on opening her vial of potion.

“Oh. Right.” He blushed equally hard and opened his own vial. “I’ve never heard of a potion that we both take. Usually it’s either one or the other.”

“Well, this one has certain, er, special ingredients. To help us, ah, you know. Enjoy ourselves.” He hadn’t thought either of them could blush any more than they already were, but she was nearly the same shade as the hangings around his bed.

“Oh,” he said again, gulping hard before he could down his potion. “I should have known that you would research the matter.”

“Well, my father is an apothecary. There are all sorts of potions in his shop.” She drank hers quickly.

It was a good thing he had already swallowed. “You didn’t get this from your father, did you?”

She choked slightly. “God, no. I had our house-elf send it. She won’t tell him a thing.”

“That’s a relief. I wouldn’t want your father after me.” He smiled at her with that lopsided, wicked grin that had worked its way into her heart.

“I can’t believe it’s our last night at Hogwarts. I’m going to miss you.” She laid her head on his shoulder and sighed.

“You can come to Egypt with me, you know.” He put his arm around her. “Gringotts still wants to hire you. I know you got better marks on your NEWTs than I did.”

“You know I can’t. I already accepted the job at that school, and I don’t want to go so far away from my dad. He’d be so lonely if I did.”

“Your dad can have some of my brothers if he’s lonely,” he laughed. “Mum won’t miss them.”

She tilted her head up to kiss him. Surprised, it was a moment before he began to kiss her back and only a few more moments before his hand slid beneath her nightgown. This was not unexplored territory; they had been together more than six months, and he knew her ticklish spots, the places that made her squirm with delight, and, just recently, how to get her to make the small sounds that had them both longing for more.

Of course, now that he actually had her in his bed, he wasn’t quite certain exactly where to begin. The warmth of her bare skin against his fingers did nothing to help him think rationally, and he was completely lost when they broke apart from their kiss and she pulled her nightgown off over her head. It was the first time they’d had sufficient privacy for anything more than touching, and he couldn’t take his eyes off her. He had never seen a real, live, almost-naked woman before, much less one that was so close to him. He was gaping like an idiot.

“What’s wrong?” she asked quietly, covering herself with her nightgown. “Am I repulsive?”

He tried to speak, but nothing came out on his first attempt. He swallowed and tried again. “Repulsive? Are you joking? You’re the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.” He gently pulled the rumpled fabric from her hands and tossed it aside before removing his own pajama top. When he kissed her again, the sensation of her breasts against his bare chest was something he couldn’t believe he had never felt before.

He moved his mouth from hers and down across her chin and along her throat. He paused and lifted his eyes to hers as though asking permission to go further. She smiled and nodded ever so slightly before he would move on. He continued slowly until her firm beast was in his mouth and he was reveling in the salty-sweet taste of her skin.

She leaned back, wondering at these new feelings coursing through her. She raised her hand to stroke his hair, his brilliant red hair that fell so softly against her pale skin. She tried to be quiet, but she couldn’t stop the soft moan from escaping when he moved his tongue against one nipple as his fingertips brushed lightly against the other.

Her hand slid down to stroke his cheek as he raised his head to look at her. “Is this all right?” he asked.

“More than all right,” she answered. His sweet concern confirmed her belief that it was right to be here with him, right to do this with him, right to have this experience with each other. Needing to be kissed, she found his mouth again. Her hands came to a rest at the waistband of his pajama bottoms. She hesitated before slipping her hand under the elastic.

“Dear Merlin,” he breathed as her fingers brushed against him. She had done this once before, for a few feverish moments in a deserted classroom. He thought it might kill him if she stopped: he thought it might kill him if she didn’t. He opened his eyes to see her studying his face intently. Her hand stopped moving when he grinned. “You’re making all sorts of mental notes, aren’t you?”

“Maybe.” Her cheeks flushed to a brilliant shade of scarlet. “I can’t help it. I just want to make sure I’m doing it right.”

“Well, you’re definitely not doing it wrong.” He lie on his side next to her. “Maybe you should wait until a little bit later for that, though. Otherwise, I might be finished before you even start.”

“Oh, sorry.” She jerked her hand away as though she were burning him.

“Nothing to be sorry about,” he said, looking at her very seriously. “We’re both new to this, so we’ll just have to share whatever we know about it with each other, right?”

“I- I suppose,” she stammered, still blushing furiously.

“For example,” he said, touching her breasts again lightly. “I figured out the way you like to be touched here all on my own, but I might need your help with other areas.” His hand rested briefly on her stomach before moving lower to feel her though thin fabric. He had never felt such wonderful heat before, nor heard anything quite so arousing as the tiny squeak she made when he rubbed his fingers lightly against her. The thought of how she would feel without this last sheer layer of clothing was nearly his undoing.

“Are you all right?” she asked softly, her hand on his cheek again.

“Erm, yeah,” he managed to croak. He cleared his throat. “Fine.”

“You looked like you couldn’t breath for a second there.” She looked rather concerned, which made him smile. She really was a very nice girl, and he liked her a lot. The fact that most of his friends thought she was odd and clumsy and too interested in books to really be interesting only made him like her more. He knew he was lucky to have found a girl he could not only talk to about important things like Arithmancy and Quidditch, but whose smile turned his stomach to jelly and his cock to stone.

“I don’t think I was breathing just then,” he admitted. “I was wondering if you like this as much as I do.” He pressed against her for a second, making her gasp in surprise. “I think you do, but tell me if I’m wrong.” She shook her head wordlessly as he slid his fingers under the fabric. “Is this all right?” he asked, looking steadily into her eyes, searching for any sign that she might want him to stop.

She nodded slowly, and reached down to slightly adjust the position of his hand. “Here,” she whispered breathlessly.

He concentrated for a moment, letting his fingers learn how to make her breath come in small gasps. He stopped when she whimpered slightly, the sound making his erection almost painful. Her eyes were closed, her mouth slightly open, her cheeks flushed; he had to kiss her.

She had been enjoying what he was doing to her so much, it seemed that it should be illegal. <I?No wonder sex is such a big deal, she thought. I think I might do almost anything for this feeling. What an incredible power to hold over someone. When he stopped, she opened her mouth to protest. He cut off her voice with a kiss.

She could feel him against her leg, hard and hot and insistent. Without really thinking about it, she reached down to touch him again and was surprised to find that he still wore his pajama bottoms. Seized by a sudden desire to see him, she hooked her fingers under his waistband and pushed them down.

“Hey!” he yelped in surprise. “Why didn’t you tell me it was chilly in here with no pants on?”

“I didn’t notice,” she giggled. “Besides, I’m still wearing my pants."

“So you are,” he murmured, running his fingertips along the item in question. “I should do something about that.”

“Not yet,” she said, moving so that she was in a better position to see him. She touched him tentatively, wondering how anything could be so soft and so hard at the same time. She snatched her hand away quickly when he groaned. “Sorry.”

“It’s all right,” he said, taking a deep breath to regain control of himself. “It’s not your fault. I just want you so badly, I think it might be better if you didn’t-“ He sucked in another gasping breath as her hand closed around him. “If you didn’t do that. Even though I really like it an awful lot.”

“Well, if you like it, why should I stop?” The mischievous glint in her eyes was more of a turn-on than the way her hand was moving against him. “I know you’ll be ready for another go in no time at all, won’t you?”

“How would you know that?” He wanted to close his eyes and float away, but he couldn’t stop looking at her. The way she was looking at his cock in her hand was like nothing he had ever imagined.

“Oh, girls talk.” She stroked him lightly with one finger, pausing at the tip, where a bit of fluid had begun to emerge. She bit her lip thoughtfully before licking a drop from her finger. She looked at his face quickly when he let out a harsh rasping moan. “Sorry. Was that disgusting? I just wanted to see what it tastes like before I end up with a whole mouthful.”

He had never seen anything so appealing as her flaming cheeks. “Disgusting? Heavens, no. It’s really…hot.” He tried not to think about how she might end up with a mouthful of that, but he didn’t have to try to control himself much longer. She leaned down until her warm breath on his skin was the only thing he knew. He didn’t try to stop her from taking him into her mouth. Somehow, he remembered to breathe and looked down. He saw his lap filled with her dark, loose hair swirling around her face as her tongue moved against him, and he was lost.

She had to concentrate not to gag when he came in her mouth. He shouted her name as his fingers fumbled and clutched at her hair. It was sort of gross, but she liked the idea of being in control like this.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he murmured a few moments later, still stroking her hair while she wiped her mouth on his pajama top.

“Yeah, I did.” She stretched out beside him, her head next to his on the pillow. He turned on his side to face her. “Just to see if I could, you know?”

“Well, I don’t have any basis for comparison, but I think you did great.”

She grinned at him, pleased that he had so obviously liked what she had done to him. She reached down to touch him again, and had to stifle a giggle at the realization that he was already getting hard again. The jokes about the libidos of teenage boys certainly seemed to have some basis in fact. She was vastly amused until it crossed her mind to wonder how that was going to fit there, and she panicked slightly.

“What’s the matter?” he asked. “You just went pale all of a sudden.”

“N-nothing. I was just thinking about the physics of this whole thing and it threw me off a bit. I’m fine.”

“Are you? Really? Because we don’t have to go all the way, you know.” He touched her cheek gently. “We don’t have to go any further than you want to go.”

“You’re sweet.” She smiled and kissed him hard. “There isn’t anyone else in the world I’d rather do this with. I want to go all the way; it’s all been really nice so far.”

“I don’t want to do anything to hurt you,” he said quietly. “But if you’re sure…”

“I am,” she said decisively. “I want you to touch me again the way you did before. And this time, don’t stop.”

“Not unless you tell me to,” he said seriously. He skimmed his hands over her, resting his palms against her breasts for a moment. “Is there anything in particular you want me to do?”

She shook her head. “Anything. Everything. Make me feel the way you just felt.”

He started by kissing her, a long, slow, thorough kiss while his hands made their own long, slow, thorough way along her body. He stopped at her knickers, feeling the silky fabric under his fingers, and then feeling her underneath that material again. He suddenly wanted, more than he had ever wanted anything before, to have her screaming his name as he had screamed hers. He needed to know that he could do that to a woman, and understood what she had meant by needing to make him come.

His mouth moved slowly along her body, pausing frequently to taste her skin. She was delicious, like sugar and vanilla and sweet rain. He stopped to look at her when his mouth reached her navel. She was forcing herself to be still, and trembling from the effort. He moved his fingers, which had been resting in the warmth and increasing dampness under her knickers, slightly, and she moaned, clutching handfuls of sheets in each hand to anchor herself to the bed. He didn’t want to stop, but that last article of clothing had to go. He gripped the fabric in his free hand and ripped them off.

She gasped and opened her eyes. “Sorry,” he muttered, although he wasn’t sorry in the least. He finally had her completely naked, and fully intended to enjoy it to the fullest. He moved his hands against her inner thighs, spreading her legs apart. He kissed her there, in the middle of the mass of springy curls that were so different from what was on her head. He didn’t stop when he heard her moan. He licked her, and was somewhat surprised to discover that this part of her didn’t taste much different from the rest of her.

Neither of them could get enough of this. Haphazard though it seemed, his tongue and his fingers kept finding new places that made her whimper with a giddy sort of bliss. He felt himself growing increasingly hard with every sound she made, and every time her back arched and her hips lifted off the bed, he thought he might burst. He heard her shout finally, felt her body tense and then relax. He was still for a long moment, resting his head against her stomach and trying to keep himself under control.

She tugged his hair suddenly. He lifted his head to look up at her. She was half sitting, her face flushed with desire. She whispered, “I think I’m ready for you. I want you.”

His breath caught in his throat. This was, after all, what they had planned to do all along. Still, he couldn’t quite believe that he was really and truly going to have sex. Fully and completely, no question about it. He kissed her, suddenly very afraid of what was to come next. He had heard that for girls it hurt the first time, and he didn’t want to hurt her. Everything had been good so far, but what if he did this part wrong?

“Are you really sure?” he asked, kissing her gently.

“Yes. Just…can you go slowly at first?” She was a little bit afraid; what if she did this part wrong?

He nodded and kissed her again before moving himself into position. “Tell me if you want me to stop, or do anything differently. Don’t let me hurt you.”

She felt him begin to enter her. I thought this was going to really hurt, but I can handle this. It’s not so bad, she thought. He looks so funny, concentrating so hard on being careful. He’s always so nice.

She yelped, surprised at the sudden stabbing pain when he went further. He froze. “Do you want me to stop?” he asked apologetically.

She shook her heard, trying to breathe through it. “No. Just- could you- maybe- not move- for a minute?”

“Okay.” He was as still as he could be, watching her bite her lip and close her eyes, obviously trying not to cry. He felt horrible to be doing this to her. He did the only thing he could think of, and kissed her face gently. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

She opened her eyes and smiled at him. “I’m all right. I knew it would hurt at first, but it’s not really so bad. You can move again, if you want to.”

“I don’t want to hurt you any more,” he murmured, still motionless inside her. “I liked it better when I was making you feel good.”

‘You’ll be making me feel good again in a minute, I think. All the books and everyone I’ve talked to say that it’s just this first bit that hurts.” She moved her hand to rest on the small of his back. “So let’s just get this first part over with. Go ahead and go in all the way.”

“Are you sure?”

“I am if you promise to make that the last time you ask me that.” She laughed. “I am very sure.”

“All right. Here goes.” He pushed himself in as far as he could and then froze again, filled with remorse. There were tears leaking from the corners of her closed eyes. “Oh, Anna, I’m sorry.”

“I’ll be all right in a second. Please don’t feel bad; it’s already starting to go away.” She pulled him down to kiss him. “I’m sorry. I’m ruining this for you.”

“Are you kidding?” He grinned. “You’re the one making this special.

“You pretty special, too,” she said softly

“I don’t know how much longer I can be still, though,” he admitted. “I feel like I really need to move.”

“Then move. I’m fine.” As soon as she said it, she knew that she was fine. The worst was over. It still wasn’t the best feeling in the world, but there was something good about the way it felt to have him inside her. She had to bite her lip again when he pulled out, the still raw tissues stinging as he moved against them again. When he plunged back in again, he hit a spot that made it all worth it. She felt a bright burst of pleasure that made her cry out in surprise. “Don’t stop,” she panted in response to his look of concern. “Please don’t stop.”

He stopped worrying about hurting her, and concentrated instead on maintaining the angle of entry that she seemed to have liked. The coherent part of his mind left him completely, and there was nothing but sensation and friction as he pushed toward his goal. When the orgasm hit him, it was like nothing he had ever felt before. He couldn’t believe that there was anything so wonderful in the world, and he hadn’t known about it until now.

He collapsed, trembling, to lay his head on her breast. They were both quiet for a long while, breathing heavily and returning to their senses. He hoped it had been all right for her, in the end. He thought he had felt her tense and climax around him, but he wasn’t sure. He wanted to ask her, but he couldn’t quite think how to phrase the question.

He lifted his head, finally, to look at her. Her eyes were closed and her breathing had returned to normal, but he knew she wasn’t asleep. He touched her cheek softly. “Thank you,” he whispered.

She opened her eyes and smiled. “It that really what one says after doing that? Somehow, I never thought of that one.”

He blushed. “There are about a million things that I want to say to you right now. That was just the first one to come out of my mouth.”

“You don’t have to say anything. I already know.” She reached up to stroke his hair, admiring the way it seemed to burn in the candlelight. She didn’t want him to tell her that he loved her. If he said it, she knew she would cry. She knew that he did love her, tonight. She also knew that their lives were about to take vastly different paths, and the love he felt for her right now would be transferred to some exotic foreign girl soon enough. He would go off to begin his adventures, to see the world, and she would stay home. She would become a nice, safe teacher and eventually, she would marry some nice, safe man and have nice, safe babies.

“I know, too,” he said softly, lying down and pulling her tightly against him. He knew there wasn’t really anything else to say. He would always remember this girl, his first love, without regret. They might run into each other years from now, and they would both wonder what might have happened if he had stayed or if she had gone with him, but they would never know for sure. It was better that way.

They dozed for a while, holding each other. “The sun will be up soon,” she said.

“Can’t we stop time, just this once?” He reluctantly sat up and began to collect the clothing scattered across his bed.

“If there was a spell for that, we’d all be stuck in someone’s special moment all the time. No one would ever get anything done.” She smiled and pulled her nightgown back over her head, not bothering with her torn underpants.

“I’ll walk you back down to the common room,” he said, pulling on the bottom part of his pajamas.

“How gallant,” she said dryly.

“Never say I wasn’t a gentleman.” He grinned, and pressed his hand to her cheek. “I did treat you right, didn’t I?”

“Yeah.” She smiled. “Always.”

They were both silent as he parted the drapes and listened carefully. The rhythmic snores from across the room sounded exactly as they had so many hours ago. They grinned at each other as she took his hand and crept silently down to the Gryffindor common room. They stopped at the staircase to the girls’ dorms, where he could go no further.

“See you at breakfast,” she said quietly, reluctant to let go of his hand.

“Yeah. And on the train back to London.” They stared at each other for a long moment, both knowing but neither wanting to say that what might happen after they got off the train was anyone’s guess. She finally turned to go up the stairs, but he grabbed her hand and pulled her back down so he could kiss her.</lj-cut>

<lj-cut text="OOC">In third person because it just wanted to be that way.</lj-cut>

Love

Sun, 11 Jan 2004 10:11:14 GMT

Do I believe in love at first sight?

Honestly? I’m not sure. Lust, certainly. That’s easy. But love? That’s never easy.

I used to think it was, but that was before my heart was stomped into the ground by people I willingly gave it to. When I was younger, I was far too trusting for my own good. I thought that any man who said he loved me did, in fact, love me, and therefore I should love him, too. I know now how stupid I was. My friends and my father would say that I was merely naïve, but I know the truth: I was stupid.

It’s different with Remus. I know I liked him and felt comfortable with him right away, but he was merely my friend for a long time. I can’t pinpoint the precise moment that I fell in love with him, but I know that it happened. Did I love him the first time I saw him? I don’t think so, but I’m not certain. I remember that I liked his smile right from the first, but love is more than that, isn’t it? I still like his smile (It’s very warm and sweet and mischievous and it makes me a bit weak in the knees.), but I love him just as much when he frowns and when he scowls and when he’s asleep. I don’t think all that happened in the first moment I saw him.

Now that I’ve really thought about it, I suppose my answer is no, I do not believe in love at first sight. It isn’t those things that we see on the surface that we really and truly love about a person. It takes time and effort to see who a person is, to trust them, and to know that they feel the same for you. Only then can you really say that you are in love with someone. Anything else is just conjecture without data to back it up.

I have my Remus here with me tonight, so I think I shall go to bed now. That's probably more information that anyone here really cares to know, but it makes me happy. Love, when it is true and real, is wonderful. The inevitable pain and heartache caused by just living is a bit more bearable when we don't have to face it alone. That is love, and that takes more than just one glance between would-be lovers.

New Year's Resolutions

Sat, 27 Dec 2003 00:47:54 GMT

There’s something intimidating about a blank page in front of me, waiting for me to fill it up with promises for the New Year. I don’t usually do this, because I hate the idea of coming to the end of a year and realizing that I failed at something. So, in an effort to prove that I am at least as good at procrastination as some of my students, I looked up the word resolution in the dictionary:

1. Firm determination.

2. A course of action determined or decided on.

I think I prefer those definitions of the word much more than thinking of resolutions as promises to myself. Determination I can do.
In the upcoming year, I am determined to see that all of my students do as well as they possibly can on their O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s. I am determined to focus more on whatever is actually happening around me and less on the (admittedly more entertaining) goings-on in my head. I will not spend all of my time at school worrying about home, and I will not waste my time at home by worrying about anything to do with school. I will enjoy whatever time I can spend with my father, because he might not be around much longer. (I am determined to face the truth about that, no matter how much it hurts and frightens me.) I also resolve to always tell Remus how much I love him and appreciate him, mainly because it’s true, but also because he needs to hear it from someone. I am determined to do whatever I have to in order to get the Ministry of Magic to change its mind about the rights accorded to werewolves.

And I really think that’s enough for now. No need to set impossible goals for myself. This time next year, I want to look back and see that I have accomplished something. I think that shall be my New Year’s resolution.

My introduction

Wed, 24 Dec 2003 00:48:20 GMT

Sometimes, even I can do things that are not expected of me. Like right now, I'm posting my introduction after I already answered this week's question. How wild and unconventional of me. (What is it people say online? LOL? I don't really spend a lot of time with Muggle things.)

Currently, I teach Arithmancy at Hogwarts, which I love. The students are great, and Albus Dumbledore is a terrific employer. It's a really great job, and I'm very lucky that Dumbledore thought of me when the former teacher left; I was only twenty-five at the time, and rather unsettled. Five years later, I think I'm finally starting to feel like an adult, but at such a price, I'm not certain that it's worth it.

Holidays and some weekends, I spend at home. Home is in London: Diagon Alley, to be specific. My father owns the large apothecary shop there. He's getting on a bit in years, and I like to help him out as much as I can. Well, "like" is rather a strong word for that, actually. I despise insects, and chopping them up into bits to sell as potion ingredients doesn't make them any more palatable. The shop doesn't really smell great either, but my dad loves it. I know he wishes that I took more of an interest in it than I do, but he tries to accept the choices I make.

Once choice in particular that my father has a hard time with is the man I love. I'm not sure if it was fate or good fortune, or just a wonderful coincidence that brought me Remus Lupin, but I'm thankful that I have him. If he weren't a werewolf, I'd probably have married him by now. As it is, the Ministry of Magic takes a very dim view of anyone afflicted with lycanthropy, and right now it's illegal for him to marry anyone. I'm working on that.

Sometimes, I wish that he hadn't been bitten by that werewolf when he was a child, but then I wonder who he would be if he hadn't been? Would he still be the same sweet, kind man who is good with children and loves me, or would he be someone else entirely? You see, I think of that sort of thing from time to time, which is why I wrote my bit for the weekly challenge before I wrote this. The concepts of fate and destiny are ever so much more interesting than plain boring me. LOL, again. (I do hope I'm using that correctly.)

I don't really feel like talking about my childhood and whatnot. Suffice it to say that it was just normal. Nothing exciting, really. My mother died when I was fifteen, which was truly, truly horrible. She was killed by Death Eaters, and I really don't want to talk about that right now, if that's all right.

A bit more about myself, then? Er, I'm quite depressingly average, really. Not short, not fat, not tall, not thin, not beautiful, but not horrifyingly hideous, either. (At least, I hope I'm not.) I asked my mirror to describe me just now, since she probably looks at me more critically than anyone else does. She said (and I do quote directly), "You could do with spending more time in front of me in the mornings, but if you combed your hair and washed the ink off your chin, you'd be presentable."

So there you have it. Me, Anna Vector, in a nutshell. Largeish nut, I suppose. I'll use that "lj-cut" feature to spare anyone who'd rather not bother. It's nice to meet you all.

Tue, 23 Dec 2003 17:43:56 GMT

Predetermined role in life? That's a tough one. You see, we can figure out a lot of things from the numbers around us: who we are, what we might become, and how people and things affect each other. Numbers don't lie, but they do change. They don't always seem to make sense on the surface, but you just have to know what to look for.

That's what I do. I teach my students what to look for. I love teaching Arithmancy, and I love living at Hogwarts. The concept of fate or destiny or whatever never really entered into any practical decisions in my life, but I believe that I am who I was born to be.

We don't have control of the world we are born into, but we do have control over what we do with the gifts we are given. I wonder sometimes: what sort of person would I be if I weren’t a witch? My mother was Muggle-born, and her side of the family is very, very different from my wizarding relations. Would I be a very different person if she hadn't died so horribly? If I hadn't seen it? There are so many things that make us who we are that are out of our control that I can't help thinking that some of them, at least, are part of a larger plan. Call it destiny, if you will. I just try to find the patterns in it.

~Professor Anna Vector
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry