Our Love To Admire

Our Love to Admire
Part 2: The Scale
Disclaimer: I don’t own anything.
Author’s Note: Thanks again to those of you who are taking the time to read this. Once again, I am going to shamelessly promote Interpol’s album, ‘Our Love to Admire.’ This story was partly inspired by the song, and the last 40 seconds are just sheer perfection in my eyes.

2 months earlier

I have a sequin for an eye
Pick a rose and hide my face

You’ve been in my scale of vision for quiet some time now. It’s come to this state of being for me at 2:41 in the morning. The rain is pelting outside, but another storm has brewed itself. The room you currently share with the Weasley girl in Grimmauld Place has a comforting feel to it, but I suspect that some sort of charm was cast to keep the temperature steady. I’ve been doing this for a few days now – sneaking into this room to watch you sleep. The charms I have placed on this room and on the two of you would have anyone with an inch of ethics and morality frown upon me. Let’s put it this way – Death Eaters could storm in here, and neither of you would be awakened by them.

This is the bandit’s life
It comes and goes and mends the breaks

I’ve tried to avoid my nightly visitations, but at the same time, I still have cravings of a Death Eater when it comes to the flesh. However, it’s not for just anyone.

I don’t want you to save me. I know that my time is soon going to come to an end. If I do survive this war, I will give new meaning to the definition of “luck.” My “luck” has extended itself for years, and I now feel that this body is holding a clock that will soon stop ticking.

Under a molten sky, beyond the road, we lie in wait
You think they know us now?
Wait till the stars come out
You see that…

You sleep on your back I’ve noticed. Sometimes, your arms move to the sides of your head. I sometimes think that maybe you dream of someone taking you like this. There is a look of contentment on your face that goes against the prudish persona you have been labeled with by others.

Seeing your foot stick out from the covers (that Weasley girl is a bit of a linen hog) makes me smirk; my way of getting to you is now an easier task. I almost want to thank the Weasley girl, but then again, I know I won’t.

Lifting up the covers, I see your bare calves and know, without even having to touch them, that they will be softer than soft. My heartbeat quickens a bit knowing that my intent tonight is to take a part of you, without consent, knowing that you will wake up in a few hours and not know a thing. It excites me, but there is also a brief flicker of panic. I don’t worry about you waking, and even if you were to, an obliviate would be in order.

Besides, Hermione Granger would never think that her Potions professor would ever do such as thing as what I am about to do. I smirk a bit at the knowledge. I have, after all, never tried or admitted to being a role model. I love the idea that you see me as an honorable person to place on a pedestal, but at the same time I want only to shatter those illusions that twinkle in your dark eyes.

Well, I made you and now I take you back

My hands trace up your body, drawing from the power that I have indeed made you the witch that you are. I’ve pushed you past the brink of know-it-all and to someone who, all annoyances aside, could run the Ministry of Magic tomorrow if needed be. I shouldn’t take all of the credit, but you worked harder in my classes just to prove yourself, when others classes didn’t need those attentions so much. It was like we were having a war with our wills, and you always refuse to go down without a fight.

You shift a bit, noticing my touch, a slight moan stifled within you. Slowly drawing down your knickers, I rejoice in the knowledge that I am far beyond forbidden territory. I don’t hear anything coming from Weasley’s side of the bed and that only adds to the urge for me touch you. These covers are a bit suffocating, but the white sheets give me a false sense of security in what I am doing.

I want to see your reaction, but can only go on what sounds I hear escaping your mouth. I slowly glide a finger into your folds, wanting nothing more than to see your face as I slowly pull such a small death from you. I smell the essence building in you and imagine the curve of your neck turning to the side. Your collarbone is more noticeable now as your chest softly heaves at my ministrations.

It’s too late but today I can define the lack

What my eyes may not be able to see, my free hand, however, can feel. I glide my left hand slowly up your body, taking my time as I trail your breast and collarbone. More soft moans escape from you, as I feel that your neck has indeed turned to the side. My hand stays there, feeling the quickened pulse of your jugular.

You are so tight – so perfect. It is taking every ounce of restraint in me not to just thrust myself into you, but that was never my goal of the evening. Right before I feel you are about to come, I replace my finger with my tongue.

Noticing a difference immediately, I feel your neck arch under my free hand. My fingers crawl up to your perfect, open mouth. It’s as if you are dying for a release, sharp breaths beckoning and begging for a mercy only I can provide. I slowly taste you, wanting to savor each forbidden second of this violation. You taste clean, almost untouched. I wonder if I am tainting you somehow, but refuse to believe that this will lead to your ruin. It is only when I feel your tongue tracing itself on my fingers that I know you will truly be the death of me. I was hard before I touched you, but have yet to notice it until now. Knowing that if you don’t reach your climax soon, I will be in more trouble than I already am in, I quicken the pace of my tongue. Still feeling yours on my fingers, I trace them back down to your neck and finally place my hand on your breast, feeling it react to my caress.

I made you and now I take you back

And then, I bring you there; it is done. Removing myself and placing the covers back over you, I see that a slight sweat has made itself known on your skin. I’m tempted to lick it off of you, foolishly believing it will taste as perfect as you do. Instead, I trace my fingers over your closed, contented lips. My erection, still present, I remind myself that the day will come where you will accept me, all of me.

Before I walk out of the room, I do what I never thought I would want to do. I kiss you, softly, on the lips before I leave. I feel you kiss me back, believing it all to be a dream.

Son you sleep in clouds of fire
That’s all and that’s right

I feel as if everything around me is in slow motion as I close the door to your room and walk down the hall to my own. It is as if some reconnaissance mission is complete, but I don’t think it is one Dumbledore would ever send me out on.

My son you sleep in clouds of fire
That’s all and that’s right

I always relished the feeling of getting away with something that wouldn’t be considered proper, but the sheer sound of you coming by tongue, and my tongue alone, brings a smile to my face still.

I can still feel it when you lie

The next few days I do not see you around the house. I believe for a few seconds that maybe I crossed the line, but I quickly deflate that idea.

It would take the sixth day for the two of us to see each other again. Molly insisted I stay over for dinner as you and your roommate set up the table.

Pick a rose just to hide my face
Well, if there’s something I should know

We didn’t sit next to each other, but I could feel your eyes on me. Trying not to stick out like a sore thumb, you would quickly, but unsuccessfully, divert your eyes elsewhere when I would look at you.

I began to worry that maybe the charms didn’t work on you, but I’m not stupid enough to mess up on such simple things. Without much time to worry, I feel the staring contest has gone into another round.

I wonder if you’ve been waiting to see me again as I have been for you. I trick myself into believing that maybe you know, but rather than be repulsed, you are aching for contact. Not knowing when I’ll visit you again, it doesn’t take much for me to remember the feel of your skin, the taste of your flower, the music of your orgasm.

I seek no science when there is no shade
Under a molten sky let the days collide

Catching you, yet again, this time you stare back at me, holding the gaze until someone asks me if I’m finished with my plate. It’s as if you know I shall be staying the night. It’s as if you are warning me to stay away from you, or asking for my return. I lost the first battle – your eyes unmercifully relishing the victory that you know just how easily you could break me.

I turn my head away from you, for only a moment, but by the time I look at your seat, you are no longer at the dinner table.

Intending on sitting in a quiet room with a book, I pass in front of the stairs to get to my desired location. The creaking of the stairs towards the top catches my attention and I turn to see your ascent. As if sensing me at the bottom, you turn and the staring war continues for a few more moments. The closing of a door breaks our spell.

Well, I made you and now I take you back

1:53a.m. - I am in your room again, watching you sleep. I feel as if I am reliving every thought and emotion from a few night’s before. I convince myself that you are waiting for me, just as you did the other night. Sleeping on your back again, I want my violation to go up another notch. My hand traces itself up your body as I remove what I can of my robes.

Tonight I will make you mine, even if you do not wish for it. I have, after all, never admitted to being a role model.

Son you sleep in clouds of fire
That’s all and that’s right

I hear your breath hitch, eyes open, as you knowingly whisper …

“Professor…”

My son you sleep in clouds of fire
That’s all and that’s right

(guitar solo)

And like flashes of memory, I see the images of our first union. The arch of your back and neck, the bliss of your fingers tracing my skin, the pure sway your eyes hold over me as I slowly enter you over and over again. It is when I trace your lips with my fingers when I am reminded of what wonders the slip of your tongue can do as it laces my thumb and then I come undone.