Hermione knocked lightly on the door of Professor Lupin's office. Yesterday, having foolishly agreed to play look out during one of Harry and Ron's childish pranks, Hermione had found herself caught holding the dung bomb, if you will. To make the already embarrassing scenario of the Head Girl of Hogwarts being caught with highly illegal, highly smelly contraband even worse, the one to catch her had been Professor Lupin.

Professor Lupin, at the request of both Harry and Dumbledore, had reluctantly agreed to once again take up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. This had triggered a heated, school wide debate over whether Lupin could be considered to have lasted more than one year, as his two years of teaching were not in succession. Hermione had refused to get involved in such things, and was just glad that she would have such a thoughtful and competent teacher for her last year of school. After all, NEWTS were very important, and it would be deeply beneficial to have a knowledgeable Professor this year.

To her detriment, Hermione found herself developing something of a crush on her DADA Professor. She couldn't help noticing how handsome he was when he was well fed, and lately she had found herself daydreaming away his lessons lost in fantasies about what it would be like to run her fingers through his delectably soft looking hair. This was considerably less productive than actually paying attention. Of course, she was still doing very well in the DADA, but she was Hermione Granger; she didn't want to be doing well, she wanted to be doing exceptional. She should be doing exceptional! But he was so incredibly handsome, and when he looked at her with those warm, tawny eyes she just melted into a mindless pile of goo.

It was the utter stupidity of second year and her childish crush on Lockhart all over again! Except this time it was considerably worse. Professor Lupin wasn't attractive in the plastic, cookie cutter, ken doll (with barley more brain function) way that Lockhart had been. He was…rougher, and handsome in a way that was less pretty boy and more manly. She found herself longing to discover all of his scars and run her fingers over them, or perhaps even her tongue. She shivered at the thought. This was why her crush on Professor Lupin was more problematic than her crush on Lockhart had been. She found herself having distinctly un-childish thoughts about him, such as what it would feel like to have him run his calloused hands all over her body. She had also developed an unfortunate tendency to stare avidly at his crotch during lessons. No matter how hard she tried to look anywhere else, her eyes always seemed to find their way back there. It was ridiculous, but she couldn't seem to help herself.

Lately, in a futile attempt to gain Professor Lupin's attention in a way that was more than platonic, Hermione had begun charming her uniform skirts shorter and shorter. She was becoming uncomfortably aware that she was behaving more and more like Parvati, but she just couldn't seem to help herself. Standing outside his office now, Hermione bit her lip, and knocked again, nervously tugging down on her skirt. Other than a raised eyebrow, Professor Lupin hadn't seemed to pay much attention to her shorter hemlines, but Hermione couldn't help but imagine what it would feel like if she were to straddle him in one of her new, short skirts and-

"Come in," came the call from inside his office, ripping Hermione out of her less than pure thoughts. Hermione resisted the urge to bang her head against the door in exasperation. How could she have lost herself in a fantasy about the man right before she was about to see him? For Merlin's sake, she had gotten so caught up she'd already managed to soak her panties with wetness. She really needed to get a grip. Taking a deep breath, Hermione straightened her skirt one last time, and entered Professor Lupin's office.

Rather than sitting at his desk grading papers, as she had expected him to be, her professor was standing near the door and almost looked as if he had been waiting for her. He seemed on edge.

"Good evening, Professor," Hermione said quietly, feeling somewhat on edge herself. She found she was tense and breathless just from being in his presence.

"Good evening, Miss Granger," her Professor returned, sounding anything but his usual relaxed self.

When a few minutes had passed, with Lupin studying her intently, and Hermione growing increasingly flustered in the ongoing silence, she summoned her bravery and broached the subject of what she would be doing for her detention.

"What would you have me do, Professor?" she asked, and he jerked in response to her words. "Will I be writing lines or -"

"Bend over my desk," he stated abruptly, cutting her off.

"W-what?" Hermione stuttered, gaping at him in shock. He had to be joking. But he didn't appear to be joking. In fact, he looked deadly serious.

"You heard me, Miss Granger. Bend over my desk." There was a deliciously authoritative edge to his voice that both frightened and excited her.

Hermione could feel her face burning with a combination of mortification and desire. She knew that if she bent over the desk as he had commanded her, that he would be able to see her knickers, that was how scandalously short she had charmed her skirt. The thought made her squirm with embarrassment, but also an intoxicating excitement. Slowly, blushing to the roots of her bushy hair, Hermione made her way closer to his desk. Extending her arms over the mahogany wood to brace herself, she hesitatingly bent over, all too aware of the picture she was now presenting to her Professor.

"There you are. You're usually so quick obey your Professors, Miss Granger. You're not losing that are you?"

"No, Sir," Hermione said shakily.

"Good, we wouldn't want that," murmured Professor Lupin. She could feel him coming closer, her body hyper aware of him. Hermione was sure that she could feel the intense gaze of her Professor burning hotly into her center, which was covered only by her thin, white cotton knickers. She was vaguely wishing that she had worn a sexier pair of underwear when she came to realization that, with how soaked her panties already were, her Professor could surely see right through them. Her whole body burned with embarrassment.

"Why, Miss Granger," Lupin admonished, making a scolding noise in the back of his throat, "you appear to have completely soaked through your knickers. Can you explain that?"

"Ah - Professor, I -"

"Perhaps you should take them off," he mused.

Hermione stilled, her abdomen burning with unbearably hot tension at his words. She couldn't believe this was happening. This was absolutely insane. She had certainly fantasized about similar situations, but it seemed unreal that her Professor was actually standing behind her, peering at the outline of her dripping wet pussy and suggesting she remove her knickers for him. Perhaps she was dreaming. Whatever the case, Hermione decided that for once she would let go and embrace her desires, however depraved anyone else may think them.

Obligingly, she reached back as if to remove her underwear, but before she could, Lupin roughly grabbed her hip with one hand, flattening her arms back to the desk with the other. Hermione gasped involuntarily.

"Miss Granger!" Lupin said sharply. "Did I say you could move?"

Hermione was frozen in shocked silence. When she had neglected to answer him for a while, Lupin squeezed her hip hard, clearly demanding an explanation for her behavior.

"No!" gasped Hermione.

"Then why did you?" he asked, removing the hand that was pressing her arms to the desk and grasping her other hip with it. She found herself automatically arching up into his hands, displaying more of herself to him, perhaps in a subconscious gesture of submissiveness.

"I - you -," she said helplessly.

"That was very insolent of you, Miss Granger. You've been a very naughty girl." He punctuated this statement by delivering a sharp slap to her bottom, prompting tingling not only in her round, little arse, but also in her already quivering center.

"Ahh," she breathed inadequately, finding it was more of a moan than a verbal response. She was so consumed that Hermione found she couldn't properly speak.

"From now on you will do as I say, Miss Granger, or else I shall have to punish you. Do you understand?"

"Yes - yes, I -"

"And you will address me only as Sir, or Professor."

Hermione squirmed and nodded, struggling valiantly to keep from rubbing her thighs together or wrenching one of her hands from the desk to give herself some much needed relief. But she knew Lupin wouldn't allow that, and as a result found herself shifting ridiculously, even attempting to rub herself against the desk. She was too far gone with unrelenting lust to stop herself, but not quite far gone enough not to feel embarrassed by her actions.

"Are you alright, Miss Granger?" Lupin asked mildly, beginning to rhythmically massage her hips, soothing where he had grabbed her so roughly earlier.

"Y-yes," she managed to choke out.

He stilled, and she could feel his tension. "Yes, what?" he asked.

"Yes, Sir," she replied breathlessly.

"That's better," he told her. "Good girl," and he lightly patted her on the bum. Hermione's cheeks, already suffused with a hot blush, darkened in further mortification. He was patronizing her! Before she could open her mouth to say anything unwisely indignant, her Professor did something that shocked her to her core. He removed a hand from one of her hips, and reached forward to cup her through her soaking knickers.

She gasped in shock and wonder from the sensation, and found herself bucking back into his palm, desperate for more friction. The feel of Lupin's big, warm hand over her most secret place was driving her insane, and she couldn't believe he wasn't moving it. Just when Hermione thought she was going to go mad with lust, he began dragging his thumb up and down her slit. She could feel him clearly through the thin, damp, cotton slip of her underwear, but it wasn't enough. She rotated her hips restlessly, desperate for him to touch her more. She wanted his bare, calloused fingers against her slick, wet skin.

He continued to drag his thumb agonizingly up and down along her slit, now holding her hips down hard enough with his free hand that she was unable to move up into the one cupping her. Hermione whimpered as he continued to stroke her slowly, with only a slight, inadequate pressure. He continued his agonizing torture for intermittently, before suddenly swiping one tantalizing finger underneath the fabric of her knickers. He slid the finger up and down between her hot, wet lips. Hermione tried mindlessly to undulate her hips, but Professor Lupin had too tight a hold on them. Damn his werewolf strength! When he slipped his thumb beneath her knickers and brushed it lightly over her clit, Hermione was unable to stop herself from letting out a wanton, needy moan and jerking erratically.

Lupin chuckled, "Miss Granger, eager as always I see. You're positively dripping." He pushed one of his wicked fingers slightly into her, demonstrating how ready she was for him. Hermione twitched.

"Are you aware that you've completely soaked through your panties?" Professor Lupin asked conversationally as he flicked her clit relentlessly with his thumb, and slid his finger deeper inside her. In answer, all Hermione could do was let out a strangled moan.

"These are very naughty, little panties," her Professor commented, beginning to pump his finger slowly in and out of her. "I'm afraid I may have to confiscate them."

And with that, he slid his finger out of her and withdrew his hand completely from her. Hermione whimpered at the loss, slightly ashamed of how pathetic she was acting, but not enough to stop begging for his touch. He then removed his other hand from her hip, and ran both of them partway down her thighs. She hummed at the sensation of his rough palms against her soft skin. Her own wetness now adorned her thigh, transferred to her by the hand that had been teasing her so unrelentingly. In a depraved sort of way, this turned her on even more.

Her Professor kneaded her thighs before slowly dragging his hands back up to settle on her bum. Hermione wiggled in anticipation of what he would do. He flipped up her miniscule skirt, exposing her backside completely. The slight, artificial breeze that the motion created had Hermione crying out softly at the new sensation. She could almost feel Lupin's smirk as he briefly rubbed one finger against her clit through her soaked knickers. He then reached for the waistband of them, and Hermione, living up to her reputation as the brightest witch of her age, even in such a state, quickly caught on to what her Professor was doing. She lifted her arse eagerly up into the air in order to aid in the removal of her knickers.

Slowly, Professor Lupin hooked his thumbs in the waistband of her panties and began to ease them down. The sudden rush of cool air against her wet pussy had Hermione gasping. Lupin chuckled again, before guiding the witch to step out of her knickers. It was silent for a while, and Hermione squirmed, wondering what Lupin was doing. Was he examining her knickers? She found herself somewhat embarrassed over how wet they were. He had barely touched her, and already she had managed to drench her underwear. She must seem terribly inexperienced.

"Don't move," Lupin said brusquely. She sensed him stepping slightly away from her and heard the sounds of a desk drawer opening. Was he getting something, or storing her knickers there? Hermione craned her neck around to see and saw him depositing her underwear in a drawer. She quickly faced forward again, tingling with excitement. Was he going to keep them? Would they still be there when she next had class with him? She shivered at the thought.

Hermione could feel her Professor approaching her again. Her heart sped up as he drew nearer, and she found herself panting softly. Did he notice?

"Miss Granger," Lupin said, laying one hand on her right hip and caressing it lightly. Hermione sighed and arched into his touch, her arse rising higher, inviting him. "I believe I told you not to move." She stilled.

"I - I -" she stuttered.

"However, I distinctly saw you turn your head toward me the minute I stepped away from you, did you not?"

Hermione's cheeks burned. "Yes, Sir," she said shamefully, hanging her head.

SMACK

A stinging blow was delivered to her bare bottom and she jerked in shock. He had hit her not with his hand, but something flat and wooden. Perhaps a ruler or pointer of some kind. It hurt more than when he had spanked her earlier, and she had a feeling there would be marks in the morning. The thought only aroused her. She had disobeyed him and the fact that a reminder of her punishment would mark her only made her leak more wetness.

"That was very naughty of you to disobey me, Miss Granger. That's twice now you've moved without my permission," said Professor Lupin softly, now massaging where he had hit her. "You've been a very bad girl as of late, haven't you?"

"Yes, Professor," she said huskily, "very bad."

"I'm afraid I shall have to take precautions with you now Miss Granger, to ensure you do not disobey me again."

"Yes, Sir," breathed Hermione. What was he going to do, she wondered. His hands left her buttock and moved down to her thighs, slowly spreading them till she was braced flat over the desk with her feet spread about two feet apart on the ground. Then she heard him mutter something and suddenly found that she could not move her hands, arms or feet. Her appendages were glued to the desk and floor respectively.

Hermione was trembling with need and arousal. She found the fact that she was now immobile only excited her more. She opened her mouth to beg Lupin to please, just get on with it already and touch her, but found that no sound came out. She continued to mouth uselessly.

"Ah, yes," Lupin explained in his 'lecture voice', something that made Hermione all too aware of the fact that the man was her Professor, "I've also cast a modified silencing charm on you. You can make noises, but will be able to speak only when I've commanded you to."

To test this, Hermione let out a moan and the soft, keening sound echoed throughout the chamber. Lupin then reached out and began to lightly run his fingers over her backside, brushing achingly close to her dripping hot center every so often, but never quite touching where Hermione most needed him too. She whimpered and squirmed, shifting and arching desperately, doing anything to try and find his touch. In response to this, Lupin's fingers danced still farther away, as if to punish her for her behavior. He was now running his fingers lightly over the backs of her thighs. Hermione found the action tickled. When he hit a particular spot close to the back of her knee she twitched and let out a breathless giggle. Lupin stilled.

"Is something funny, Miss Granger?" he inquired darkly, still dragging his fingers lightly up and down her thighs, tickling her relentlessly. She was sure he knew what he was doing to her. She could feel his smirk burning into the back of her head.

"No, Sir," Hermione gasped, trying desperately not to let out another giggle. She found she could answer him when asked a direct question.

"I should hope not," Lupin said sternly. "Detention is hardly the place for amusement."

If Hermione could have spoken she would dearly have loved to say that detention was hardly the place for what they were doing now either.

With one hand still tickling her thighs, venturing tantalizingly close to her center, Lupin reached with his other and cupped her bare, soaking wet pussy.

Hermione began moving her arse up and down, as much as she could with her now limited movement, shamelessly rubbing against her professors hand as he cupped her. She was an eager kitten longing to be stroked.

Lupin chuckled over her behavior, prodding her clit with one of his long, calloused fingers. Hermione moaned and bucked into his hand.

"Wanton, little witch," he murmured, continuing to circle her clit with one finger while inserting another inside her. He began to pump it in and out of her before adding another and scissoring them inside Hermione's tight sleeve, stretching her deliciously. She moaned in pleasure, beginning to think that he was finally going to give her what she needed. Just as she was gleefully anticipating her impending release, the tight heat in her stomach mounting to unbearable levels, Lupin withdrew his fingers from her. Shortly thereafter his hand had vanished completely from her body.

Hermione whimpered pitifully, but Lupin was still there, he just wasn't touching her anymore. He was torturing her! The man was an absolute sadist. She never would have believed he had it in him, but here she was, spread prone over his desk, completely exposed, unable to speak or move, and having been teased almost beyond her breaking point.

"Open your mouth," came the command, low and harsh next to her ear, his hot breath fanning over it.

Hermione obligingly spread her lips, waiting with tense anticipation for what, she didn't know. Gradually Lupin's hand came into view. She could see his fingers, wet and sticky, glistening with her essence. They came closer, and Hermione's eyes widened in shocked realization. And then those wet, sticky fingers were in her mouth. She swirled her tongue around them and sucked hard, giving each finger individual attention and lapping at them eagerly, as if they were another, much larger, appendage of her Professor's. She could taste a strange, tangy saltiness on his digits that she knew to be herself.

"Can you taste yourself on me?" Lupin murmured seductively against her ear, tugging on the lobe with his teeth in a way that made her stomach flip. "Can you taste how wet you are for me, you dirty, little girl? Do you like it?"

Hermione was surprised by how much she did like it. "Mmm," she mumbled around his fingers, which she was still sucking with abandon. He let her suck and lick them for a while longer, before slowly withdrawing them from her mouth with a slick pop. Hermione panted, staring fixedly at his hand. It moved out of her sight and then she felt her Professor wipe it off on her bare arse, as if she were a conveniently placed towel for him to use. And it made absolutely no sense because her skirt was right there, and he could have just wiped his hand on that! Hermione's cheeks flooded with renewed heat, part arousal, part indignation, and part shame. Before this evening she had never felt such a strange combination of degradation and desire.

Before Hermione could even begin to attempt and sort out her feelings, a rather monumental task given her haze of lust, she heard the distinct sound of a belt buckle being undone. All rational thought completely flew out of her head. She was now solely attuned to the sounds of what her Professor was doing behind her.

There was a rustling of fabric that Hermione thought must mean that he had at least partly removed his trousers, and then a torturous interval of about thirty seconds in which Lupin muttered what Hermione guessed to be spells. She trembled in need. He was so close. Oh, how she wished he would -

And suddenly he was there; his arms braced on either side of her on the desk, and his raging hard on probing between her folds. Her breath hitched at the feel of him against her, so much more stirring than his hand. She tried to arch against him, tried to urge his cock inside her, but found that she was unable to move at all. He had completely immobilized her. That must have been one of the spells he had done just now. She moaned in a combination of frustration and need. His tip was poised torturously at her entrance and she couldn't do a single thing to move this along. Hermione had no control. She was completely at her Professor's mercy. All she could do was wait submissively for him to act. Wait for him to use her, for she would not be able to respond to him in any way. All she could do was receive him. She moaned again.

Suddenly, without any warning, he thrust harshly and fully inside her. His hips smashed roughly against her and she suddenly found herself incasing the entirety of him. Hermione cried out, barely having time to get used to the feeling of him being so deeply buried inside of her before he withdrew and slammed into her again. Lupin continued to take her in this fashion, rough and fast against his desk, slamming her into it repeatedly. She was sure there would be bruises in the morning. Hermione had never been taken so roughly before, and with such a complete lack of regard to her pleasure. Nevertheless, she found that a hot, deep, pressure was mounting inside her, more and more with each relentless thrust of her Professor. Her moans and gasps rang out loudly, mixing with his animalistic grunts as they both drew closer and closer to completion. And then one deep, hard thrust hit an undiscovered place inside her that had her hurtling into orgasm.

Hermione cried out mindlessly, completely lost to her pleasure as she convulsed around her Professor's member. She had never before had so explosive an orgasm. Professor Lupin's thrusts became more and more erratic, and just as she was coming down from her high she felt him tense behind her. With a great shudder he found his release, groaning low and primal as he came undone inside her. She felt the hot spurt of his seed filling her up, leaking out, and dripping down her thighs. Soon they were both panting, her leaning heavily on the desk, and him leaning on her. She thought that if she wasn't being held up by magic she might have collapsed. Her legs were jelly and her brain was mush.

He withdrew from her slowly, still panting, and she could hear the sounds of him tucking himself back into his pants and making himself presentable once more. She herself was far too sated and tired to care that she was still bent over a desk, slicked in sweat, totally disheveled, and looking for all the world as if she had been fucked within an inch of her life. Which she had.

Hermione was just closing her eyes, thinking she might fall asleep despite what she was now noticing to be her rather uncomfortable position, when Professor Lupin spoke from behind her, sounding as infuriatingly composed as ever.

"You may get up now, Miss Granger," he informed her calmly, sounding for all the world as if she had simply been knocked to the ground during a practical dueling demonstration in class.

Slowly, as if hesitant to believe that she would indeed now be able to move, Hermione eased herself from the desk and into a standing position. She flexed her hands experimentally, and feeling rather stiff, raised her arms above her head in a much needed stretch, completely unaware that she was inadvertently exposing herself once again to her Professor. Finishing her stretch, and unable to think of anything else to do to stall, she reluctantly turned around to face her Lupin.

He was looking quite as he always did, sitting quietly and grading papers. The only sign of what had just taken place was the slight flush on his pale cheeks. When she turned around, he set down his quill and looked up at her. When he sought out her eyes she found herself blushing and looking away. She would never be able to look at him the same way again. Doubtlessly, she would be the permanent colour of a tomato in his classes from now on. She found herself simultaneously dreading and looking forward to her future Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons. When she darted a glance at Lupin through her eyelashes, she found that he had gone back to grading papers.

"Erm, Professor," she spoke up.

He looked up, and she blushed harder. "Yes, Miss Granger?"

"Will that be all?" Hermione asked.

"Yes, you may go," he said dismissively, going back to his papers. She could scarcely believe how he was acting. As if absolutely nothing out of the ordinary had taken place. It was maddening!

She spun around to go, and was just about to open the door to his office and leave when she came to the sudden realization that she wasn't wearing her knickers anymore. Blushing more hotly then ever, she turned around to face her Professor once more.

"Professor are you going to - that is…," he raised an expectant eyebrow at her, and Hermione scowled. She was never this inarticulate! What was wrong with her!

"You still have my knickers, are you going to give them back to me?" she sputtered finally.

Lupin smirked, and Hermione's heart skipped a beat. "I'm afraid not, Miss Granger. I never return items that I've confiscated, and if you don't want your underwear collection severely diminished, I suggest you quit wearing them in my presence. I wouldn't want to have to confiscate any more pairs of your delectable knickers."

Hermione gaped at him, wide eyed. "Yes, Professor," she managed to say breathlessly, before turning around and heading for the door.

"Oh, and Miss Granger," Professor Lupin called, just as her hand had alighted on the door knob, "Remember, tonight was only the first part of your detention. You still have the rest of the week to serve. Report to my office at nine o'clock tomorrow night. Don't be late."

Hermione nodded with her back to him, suddenly not trusting herself to speak. After taking a moment to collect herself, for she was now feeling flustered all over again, she hastily exited his office.

As Hermione walked back to the Gryffindor common room, she shivered, having never before noticed just how drafty the Hogwarts corridors could be at night.