Shiver

It is difficult to ignore the events of the previous evening.  My victory is bitter sweet, because for all my efforts, she still fled.  Like she were fleeing some kind of monster.

In her defense...

She is right to run.  Because i am a monster.

When she first arrived in this class, she was nervous but there was a confidence in her.

It was intolerable.  It was loathsome.  So I began to play this game of mine, slowly but surely planting doubt after doubt.  And oh how I have enjoyed it. 

I can think of few thinks that can match the pleasure I have gained in simply watching her slowly crumble.  It is the cumulation of all that I have desired when it comes to her.

And yet...

Never has it felt more tiresome. Because I did not expect to want to fuck her, to feel her flesh tighten around my cock.

I want her.  I want her so badly I see it even in my dreams, like last night, where my dreams finished where she left off--I clearly saw her look of fear, because she would be afraid, and then she let's me close the distance between us.  Sitting on my desk, afraid and yet wet, turned on by me.

She lets me kiss her, and then she becomes pliant.  Supple.  She returns my kiss, and then I push her onto the desk.  I lift her skirts up.

Stop it.

It angers me, this desire.  It is unnatural.  But fuck if I care.  If anything, I have helped her, and she should be grateful.  I have only helped her.

Even now, they avoid her.  She stands out in this sea of insects, and at least now they no longer swarm her.

And as I watch my students work on their lesson my eyes slide, not for the first time, to Ms. Granger.  No, Hermione.

I watch her as she struggles to retain order in her group. 

Ha.

Ha.

Ha.

Even if I did not interfere, she would find herself facing the same outcome.

A gryffyndor in a sea of slytherins.  What a site. And the way she spoke to them...

Not the best tactic with that lot, and for all her intelligence, I see she can't seem to grasp the simple truth:  that there is a whole group of people who find her well-meaning self-righteous behavior as repugnant as she finds their manipulative and cunning tactics.

I watch them turn away, and snicker to one another in clear disdain.

It reminds me of myself, before I grew to be what I am now---the one with all the cards.  I take a diabolical pleasure in watching her sink.

She clutches her fists.

How many times has she had to do this?  Like Sisyphys rolling a boulder up a mountain, only to be crushed.  But like a dog with a bone she keeps pursuing the same failing task.

Intelligent yet so naïve. 

It excites me, that part of her.  It makes me want to play with her more, but I know if I do that, I will give myself away, and I am not ready for that.  Not yet.

Ms. Granger turns to work through it alone. 

I return my eyes to the book I have been pretending to read, but truly I am excited because it means another opportunity to punish her. To play with her.

To touch her.

I truly am wicked, and I love it.

When the class finally ends, I patiently wait. 

Hermione, as usual, is the last to leave. 

Because no one will help her. 

Indeed, as if she were infected with plague they flee before she even has the chance to ask for help.

Perfect.

I slowly rise.  I can feel the excitement begin to build.  It is all I can do to appear as natural as possible. 

‘Ms. Granger, several days ago, during your detention….’ I pause, and wait, and she blushes, so I know she remembers, ‘do you remember what I said?’

She looks away and shifts uncomfortably.  ‘You mentioned that your door would always be open.’

I smile.

‘I thought you had forgotten.  I am worried, Ms. Granger.  I do not wish to fail you,’ I pause, and something like terror flashes across her face, ‘but you are not doing very well. If you want, you can meet me for extra lessons.  I only want to see you succeed.’

She appears uncertain.

As she should be.

Because if she knows what I mean by extra lessons she will not only refuse, she will probably flee the campus.

‘…like extra credit?’

‘Exactly.  If you are interested, and don’t mind the late hours, by all means, please come to the dungeons, tonight. ‘

‘….okay.  When should I—‘

‘Nine.’  I cross my arms, ‘Nine.  Please, come to my office.’

She slowly nods.

Perversely, I grin. 

____________

What will happen to Hermione....?  I wonder what your imaginations are painting!