Long Enough

It has been long enough that we have both forgotten how it all started. It must have been his eyes, the only feature on his body that does not remind me horribly of his father. He was skinny and stupid when he got here, and the hat placed him, predictably, in Gryffindor. He was always ready with a smart remark, always challenging me to keep my cool. He was so like his father in that way. But now, oh how things have changed. He enters the room with his usual shuffle. His hair is everywhere, just as always, his bright green eyes cast down as he drags himself into my classroom. His uniform is pressed, but shows the wear of the day and there are red patches on his tan skin from sleeping in class. His shoes are scuffed, he'll need a new pair soon, and his hat is lop-sided as he slumps to his seat. He takes out his cauldron and potion ingredients, text book and parchment.
He sets them down in no particular order and then slouches toward Weasley to talk. I watch them all from my private office at the back of the room, but I mostly watch him. He feels my eyes on his back I know, as he shifts to get more comfortable but never seems to achieve it. I slam open the door and stride in confidently, giving him an extra hard glare. He actually glares back this time, it earns him a detention. I can almost see his luscious lips twitch, or is that my imagination?
I set them to work on a complicated potion that I know for certain he has mastered. He botches it on purpose, his acting superb. I yell at him convincingly and give him yet another detention. That's a week's worth of detentions, starting after dinner tonight, in just the last two days. People will start to wonder. Oh well, at least they will never guess. No one is that observant, or that derranged. In any case, class lets out and I ask him to stay behind. The students file out dutifully, his friends a little more slowly than the rest, and he closes the door. Few know the right combination to my wards. He puts them up effortlessly.
He is on his knees beside my chair in an instant. He knows what I want him to do. He starts massaging my ankles, moving slowly up my legs, sending tendrils of magic and pleasure up and down my nerve endings. He concentrates so hard on what he is doing that he hardly notices my gaze. He feels it I know, it is difficult for him to be comfortable when I stare at him. I give him a break from my eyes, closing them and groaning in pleasure as he reaches my thighs.
I love it when he gets there, the sensations are much more pleasant. He starts to caress my cock through my trousers and it is hard in seconds. One of his nimble hands is still working it higher as the other undoes the button and zip on my pants. He looks up at me, a hungry glint in his eyes and I nod, giving him permission to proceed, how could I not? He reaches into my pants and takes out my hardened length. He admires it, like always, before giving the head a gentle lick. I'm gripping the arm rests on my chair so tightly now, that it's amazing that they don't break off.
He opens his beautiful mouth and takes me all the way in. The heat and suction are fatasitc and I can't help but hold his head in place while I fuck his gorgeous orifice. He loves it when I do that, it makes him feel so used and dirty. I wonder after every encounter with him how I got so lucky, but of course, that's not the point of this is it? Before long I'm coming down his throat in great spurts, still thrusting weakly as I spend. He licks it all up, cleaning every inch of me before putting my softened member away and standing up. His erection is prominent in the front of his trousers but I simply dismiss him with a wave of my hand, turning my attention to the papers on my desk. His name is on the top left hand corner of the page in front of me. I look up at him, a glare forming. He grins at me with a knowing look in his eyes as he trots out of the room, his bulge going down as if by will alone.