I wrote this quite a few months back –in May I presume– whilst I was supposed to be studying for my Uni entrance exams and only thought to put it up now. I hope it is to your liking and if so, leave a review for me if you'd be so kind : )
November was a harsh month and it certainly liked to parade its cruelty around Hogwarts and cloak the castle in an embittered robe of coldness. The fire in the teacher's lounge was merrily crackling in the grate in a valiant effort to ostracize the chill and Professor McGonogal found herself edging closer to the fireside in search of warmth. A leaning tower of essays to her right was the only thing that accompanied her in the room and she found herself shaking her head at the rather dismal essay Seamus Finnigan had seen fit to present her with. Most unfortunately, many of her other pupils were following the boy's example and the essays she had corrected so far had been sickeningly appalling. If it were to ever be forced out of her, she would say she doubted whether half her students were fit for NEWTs next year but there was a hope within her; they still had a year and a half.
She reached for a new essay and the lines in her brow became more pronounced as she set eyes on the name at the top of the parchment. iDraco Malfoy./i. It might have been to do with the boy being one of the most arrogant individuals she'd had the misfortune to meet, or the fact that he was a Slytherin, but she held no affection for the blonde as a pupil. There were others who befell that category but Draco Malfoy was certainly atop that particular group.
His essay was unique. He had failed to hand in the assigned essay and hence she'd made him write a four foot explanation for his failure to do so. She hadn't expected him to obey but he'd come to her office a few hours after his class with her with a four foot parchment brimming with what she expected to be lies and facile excuses.
This ought to be an entertaining break from correcting. Leaning back comfortably into the soft back of the armchair, the professor adjusted her glasses and held out the parchment before her, inclined to peruse.
The Reasons Why I Failed to Write a Transfiguration Essay
By Draco Malfoy
I'm an articulate man, Professor, but I do not wish to bore you with lackadaisical excuses and convoluted untruths that would take me all but five minutes to write. As my professor, I feel it is only just and of the utmost decorum I have been raised on to present you with the truth for my failure to produce an assigned Transfiguration essay. So without further ado, I divulge.
The essay was set this Wednesday and due for Friday and I assure you as a Slytherin and a Malfoy I departed your classroom with every intention of completing said essay. However, the Slytherin team were scheduled for a rigorous three hour training that evening and by the time I had finished practice, showered and gone off to do my prefects duties, I was much too tired to think let alone write what I am sure would have been a virtuoso paper.
But with that said, there was still Thursday; a complete twenty four or more hours in which I could've taken it upon myself to pursue my essay. And take it upon myself I did; dutifully, like the accomplished student I am, I went on Thursday evening, grudgingly I'll admit, to the library to congregate some research and use it to enrich my essay. There was only a cluster of students around and I began a leisurely stroll the shelves, prying for the right citations to use. I edged closer to the restricted section, unaware of my path when, Merlin forbid this should happen to you Professor, a pair of hands roughly grabbed me and pulled me into the enticing, dark alleys of the restricted section, drawing me into the safe shadows of the shelves and pushed me against a book laden projection. Too taken by shock to defend myself, I only blinked at the darkened figure facing me before I felt the gentle softness of slender, warm, delectably smooth, feminine fingers slip into mine and the pounce of a wanton creature on me, her appetizing mouth on mine instantly in a practised display of lust.
Well, you know how us sixteen year old boys are, Professor… I was hardly about to stand still and remain dormant; her body heat was so tempting Professor, I wish I could properly convey the feeling to you but parchment is only parchment and not a gateway to the tastes of the human heart and the shameless reactions to physical encounters.
Resigning myself to my hormones and liberating any self control I had, I kissed her back just as fiercely, our lips meeting hard and greedy, her hands coiled around my neck, mine protectively around her waist. Kissing her is peerless. She's nothing I've ever tasted before; innocence, inexperience, untamed desire, tenacity, intelligence and beauty are concocted together in one unconquerable taste of her lips.
She pulled back in desperate search of air and I exploited the moment to tenderly tuck a dark curl behind her ear and revel in the unparalleled softness of her cheek. I couldn't help but notice how she leaned into my touch with a small smile and closed eyes and to me, she was perfect in that moment and everything I wanted. Her divine face – I yearn to find a beauty to match her features, Professor- leaned towards me in a quest for the kisses she liked to receive. This kiss was not governed by lust or debauchery but merely a simple touch, the merest suggestion of tongues and the blissful passing of a second before we pulled away.
"Hi," she then greeted in a whisper ghosted with a smile.
"Hi," I replied in similar tones and pressed a lingering, gentle kiss to the smooth column of her neck, savouring the heady scent of her skin mingled with just a suggestion of perfume. Many women feel the need to douse themselves with perfume as one would douse oneself with water whilst showering, but it is so much more seductive to have just an insinuation, a little, tantalizing taste of what is to come. That is seduction, Professor, and one of your students has mastered it artfully. Without apparent effort it seems.
Suddenly remembering the reason for my being here, I groaned at the thought of having to desert this wonderful oblivion before me in favour of a dull Transfiguration essay.
"I have an essay," I explained to her as her hands slid beneath my cloak and met the soft wool of my jumper beneath, her fingers gingerly resting at the emblem above my heart.
"It can wait," was her reply.
If only, I thought forlornly, thinking of you Professor and how I would hate to see your disappointed face. I couldn't bear that. So, with my heart set resolutely on writing the essay, I tried to push her away but she was the one thing that was truly resolute.
"It's due tomorrow morning," I reminded her weakly as her fingers deftly undid the clasp of my cloak and allowed it to pool around my feet. My hands, through no volition of my own, did the same to her cloak.
"I'll write it for you," she offered and I allowed a brief, wry smile.
"I want to write it myself."
"And I want you to kiss me," came her reply and without waiting for me to respond, her lips were on mine once more. And this is where I apologize Professor. I apologize for allowing my resolve to crumble at the warm lips of a girl. I apologize for not writing the essay. And I apologize for what you are about to read.
Unsurprisingly, I became as malleable as water and kissed her back unreservedly, my lips craving every inch of her skin, to taste every sweet pore and to delight in the soft sounds she made as my mouth teasingly trailed her jaw to drop to her collarbone, my tongue only lightly making an inhibited appearance at the hollow near her neck where my path was hindered by her shirt. It'll have to go, I thought unrepentantly, along with her tie, her skirt, her tights and most certainly her knickers.
She had already surpassed my thoughts and had successfully shucked me off both my sweater and shirt by the time I managed to unbutton her shirt and allowed my hands to meet her soft, sultry skin. The moan she released was enough to bring me to my knees and she pushed herself against me, letting there be no interval between us. Her lips trailed kisses across my chest, hot, sucking, wet kisses as I slowly snuck a hand beneath the hem of her skirt and lightly pulled down the material of her tights, the action eliciting a moan from the both of us. She helped in kicking them off and I was left to ignore the throbbing pain between my legs as my hand once more slipped underneath her skirt –painfully slowly, painfully feathery- and met the trim of her knickers. I could not suppress the groan I released as I thought of the little slice of heaven awaiting me beneath that piece of material.
"Please," she implored in a pained whisper, her limpid golden eyes pleading.
My fingers leisurely pulled down and she bucked against me as the tips of my fingers brushed against her intimately. When her panties were past mid thigh, I deserted them and pulled my fingers gradually up the inside of her thigh relishing the feel of the slippery substance on them before I took mercy on her and…
"Professor McGonogal, are you all right?" a soft voice asked and the poor professor raised her gaze to take in Severus Snape stood not so far away, surveying her curiously. "You look a tad flushed."
His lips were curled into something very akin to a smirk.
"I'm fine, Severus," she replied brusquely, still mortified that a student would dare submit such… such depravity. "I just got a little too near to the fire."
"Of course," he replied slowly and his tone was coloured with pale scepticism.
"Do you happen to know where Draco Malfoy is? I'd like a word with him about his essay."
"Certainly. By chance, I bumped into him on my way over and he was intent on the library."
The professor fought hard not to blush as she was reminded of the words clutched tightly in her hands. "Thank you," she said crisply as she exited the room.
There weren't many students in the library in the late evening; just three or four littered here and there between shelves or at desks, scribbling away. Professor McGonogal knew where to go; she passed Madam Pince and brushed her off with a quick excuse as she made her way towards the restricted section of the library. Delving into the alleys, it didn't take her long to find her target and she was unsurprised to find him in a dark corner with a brunette caught between him and a bookcase avidly caught in each other to notice the sound of her footfalls. She was unable to recognize the girl from a distance and remembering the essay she fought back a wince and decided to interrupt.
"Malfoy!" she said in a sharp tone that she prided herself on. This tone was a failsafe way to obtain a pupil's attention and keep it. The pair froze for a moment before his hands dropped from around her waist and he turned round to face the professor, his expression as cool as could be, looking like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.
"Professor," he acknowledged politely, coolly, head cocked to the side in respect as if he hadn't just been caught zealously snogging a girl in the restricted section of the library.
But the professor's attentions were no longer fixed on him but the horrified girl behind him. The dark curls, the golden eyes, the offer to write an essay… how could she have been so ….
"Miss Granger?" she asked a little weakly, her logic unable to comprehend having caught her star pupil and Draco Malfoy in an ardent embrace.
"Professor," she acknowledged meekly, looking like she wished she'd melt into a puddle right there on the floor to avoid having to meet the bewildered gaze of her Head of House.
"What do you think you're doing?" she thundered.
"Promoting house unity?" Draco suggested casually, just a little sneeringly, before he sighed, his shoulders sagging a little. "I assume you've read my essay?"
"Yes," she replied curtly, her shoulders stiffening, her lips thinning and her eyes hardening. "How dare you even…"
"You wanted an explanation, I gave you one," he said coolly with a hint of defensiveness
This brought McGonogal up short. She'd naturally assumed his words to be lies but the scene before her was a very good basis for doubt. "Do you mean to say that what your essay supports has happened?" she managed to ask a little hoarsely. She knew what she wanted his answer to be but feared she would be disappointed.
"I may've exaggerated," he shrugged and the professor found she didn't wish to know just how much. When she remained to merely stare between him and the blushing girl, Draco reached for his bag on the floor and extracted a fresh essay.
"Here's my delegated essay, Professor. I just finished it before Granger here was so kind enough to suggest a recreational break from studying." Behind him, Hermione threw him a withering glare.
Suspiciously, Professor McGonogal took it from his outstretched hand and read the introduction for good measure but when she saw nothing but a meticulous description of her assigned topic she nodded with a dusting of approval. "That seems to be in order. Next time you fail to hand in an essay, Malfoy, I will not ask for explanations; it'll be detention immediately. Understood?"
He ghosted a smirk. She noticed and hardened her eyes; he would never cease to be arrogant. "Yes, Professor."
"Now, unless the pair of you have any scholarly needs of the restricted section, I suggest you take your activities somewhere more private."
With a meaning stare at Hermione, she turned to depart but was stopped after a few steps as Draco called her back. "Yes?"
"May I have my explanation back, Professor? Or are you in any need of it?"
She loathed the vulgar insinuation behind his tone and yearned to take off a few hundred house points from Slytherin but decided against it with some regret. She held out the parchment for him to take and when she turned back round, she wondered if she could get anyone to possibly obliviate her and upon restudying that thought, she found herself thankful Professor Snape had stopped her from continuing her perusal.
Draco waited until McGonogal was safely out of the restricted section before he returned to Hermione, grinning. She still looked ashen-faced that they'd been caught but a drop of amusement had slipped into her eyes.
"Did you exaggerate?" she asked pointedly as he reached her and lightly ran a hand through her tresses, obviously very pleased with himself in a proud, self-satisfied aura.
"Not one tiny bit," he smirked before he leaned down to capture her lips, fully planning a repeat performance and a similar essay for Snape.