lamerezouille: (Hogwarts)
[personal profile] lamerezouille
Title: The Learners
Pairing: Remus/Pansy
Rating: light R
Word count: ~700
Warnings: seventh-year AU, teacher/student
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling and Warner Brothers. No copyright infringement intended.
Note: Part 2 of the Weird Pairing Experience

Remus approached her a little less inconspicuously than he’d wished, the letter still clenched inside his fist, and maybe he should have thought this through first, but Merlin! he was furious. He took her by the arm and pulled her in a side-alcove, not too in-the-way for their conversation to draw attention, but not too hidden for anyone to suspect anything.

‘What is the meaning of this?’ he whispered angrily, brandishing the half-crumpled letter in her face.

‘Well, unless I’m mistaking, the letter says it all, doesn’t it?’ Pansy asked with a haughty look. She crossed her arms in front of her chest, framing her breasts just so. It was a simple and innocent gesture that went straight through Remus’s groin and he knew she’d done it on purpose. There was absolutely nothing Pansy Parkinson didn’t do on purpose.

‘I’m not meeting your parents!’ Remus knew he was turning a little wild and that most people, knowing what he was, would be trembling right now. Unfortunately, Pansy was not most people, and she had a real bad habit of always getting what she wanted. She’d started with a place in Remus’s bed and the chances were high she’d go on with a parents-teacher meeting between her posh pureblood parents and her werewolf lover.

Remus cursed himself for the umpteenth time for entering this relationship at all. He’d known from the beginning he never should have. She might be of age as far as the Wizarding World was concerned, but she still was his student and if it ever came out, even Professor McGonagall couldn’t convince anyone to give him a job anymore.

‘Of course you are,’ she said, her voice still very poised, and her tongue briefly stroking her lower lip, in a pretence of moisturising that really was her own version of torture. ‘My parents don’t give a fig that you’re a professor here. All they care about is knowing that you take good care of me.’

Remus was momentarily waylaid by her tongue darting out again before he realised what she’d just said. ‘Your parents…know? About us?’

He tried to say the last word the quietest possible but she obviously didn’t care, because her answer was a brash, ‘Of course they know about us! I tell my parents everything.’ She reacted to Remus’s gobsmacked expression before he had time to say anything more. ‘And drop the flabbergasted look, it’s really outdated. Everybody knows about us!’

Remus felt his heart skip a beat at this statement, and wanted to protest again because if this was the case, he was totally and utterly screwed, but she spoke again, not one trace of worry in her voice, ‘Well, maybe not everybody knows, but the Slytherin House surely does and nothing bad has happened yet, has it? I’m not even taking your class, this whole no-fraternising rule is really bollocks.’

Remus wouldn’t really have called why Pansy came in his rooms at night fraternising, but he didn’t really have time to think about it, because she’d taken hold of his hand and was slowly slipping it along her hip, and there was nothing he could do anymore.

She tugged lightly on his tie and, without seeing it coming—the same it had always been when Pansy was involved, his face was only a breath away from hers and his hand had slid under her skirt, and her tongue was outside her mouth again, and—

Remus was definitely screwed. They snogged as if they were teenagers (well, as if he was one too) and he only managed to stop things before it turned into an exhibitionist session and everybody actually knew about them.

She straightened her hair and her clothes, and Remus was trying to will his erection to abate at least a little when she resumed the conversation, ‘My parents will be here next Saturday at ten a.m. sharp. I enjoy your usual scruffy look, but I do hope you’ll make an effort for them. I managed to get them to get me out of a betrothal with a minor European prince for you. Don’t make me regret it.’

She went back in the corridor as if she hadn’t just snogged her thirty-year-older-than-her professor.

Oh yes. Remus was screwed. He was no longer sure why it was such a bad thing, though.
 

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July 2012

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