Disclaimer: Mature content - read responsibly. I own and gain nothing, Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling.

Author's Note: This took a very long time, but the story isn't dead. I take requests! If you want another chapter or story, message me. Enjoy!

The Final Task

Hermione waited outside of the heavy oaken door, her legs trembling.

Exactly two days prior she had marched up to the Girls of Hogwarts headquarters, handed in her completed card, spun around, and slapped Leo on the ass on her way out. She was significantly less confident now.

Pushing the door open, she walked into the room, high heels clicking, form-fitting robes swishing, in the midst of attendance.

"Miss Granger," a quiet voice called, "you're late." Taking a deep breath, she turned around, only to feel her knees knock and her pulse flutter. Professor Lupin looked delectable. The throbbing at her core piqued as his luminous eyes met hers.

"Yes, Professor."

"Detention. Seeing as dinner is next, seems like that shouldn't be a problem."

"Yes sir," she says quietly, flicking her eyes up to his again.

She teeters to her seat as her Professor resumes roll call. When she sits down, the device, buzzing happily away between her thighs, presses into her and she lets out a small gasp. The final task, sit through a class with a vibrator under the supervision of an undercover Girl of Hogwarts to make sure you hold out the whole time. As it happened, Yuki was sitting directly behind her, disguised as a large Hufflepuff. Hermione could feel every inch of her body vibrating along with the small device, her nerves were on fire, her breathing shallow and her eyes unfocused.

"Today we will be working on review of the last few weeks to make sure everything is sticking with you all. Can anyone tell me how to disarm an enemy with a spell other than expelliarmus?"

Hermione choked on a moan, her hand flying to the edge of the desk, thighs rubbing together. The machine pressed against her was moving. It was elongating, stretching out inside of her. Behind her, Yuki smiled, putting her wand back in the folds of her robes.

As Hermione Granger sat, knees knocking, fingers clenching the desk, knuckles turning white, intense pressure between her hips, all of the pleasure, every twinge and peak was directed at her Professor. The look she shot him, her face flushed, eyes focused with such intensity on his, her subtle lip bite already making his mind wander.

At the front of the classroom, Professor Lupin dropped unexpectedly into the chair behind his desk. He coughs awkwardly and continues to teach, as if nothing had happened, but Hermione smiled knowingly. She had a detention to look forward to. At this thought, another suddenly popped into her head in the form of a delicious vision. She pictured his body moving against hers so vividly, his shoulders rippling, sweat slick abs brushing against her navel, her breasts pressed to his chest, his mouth wet and warm on her neck. She had let herself go too far, gasping, she pressed her thighs together as tightly as possible, focusing on the most un-sexy things she could summon to mind. She squeezed her eyes shut, trapping a moan behind her lips. When she was calm enough, she opened her eyes again and was met with a quizzical look from her professor who had not interrupter his lesson but was watching her intently.

She gave him a weak smile, lifting her fingers off the table in a quick wave. He raised a quizzical eyebrow. She quickly looked back down, focusing on dried in splatters and scratches on the desk. The pressure between her legs was hot and demanding. She counted the ink spots.

Ten minutes and 13 big spots, 29 littles ones later, she was looking up at her professor who was looking down with a furrowed brow at her blank paper. Behind her, a Hufflepuff arranged his robes.

"Miss Granger would you care to explain to me why you have yet to start your assignment?"

Before she could stammer out a response, the device inside her curved and vibrated more intensely, hitting her g spot. She felt her back arch and her legs quiver, and involuntary sound halfway between a gasp and a moan exploding from her mouth. Professor Lupin stared. The Hufflepuff smiled. Hermione looked straight ahead, counting the window panes at the front of the room until she was collected. She drew her hand through her hair and smiled up at him.

"I'm sorry Professor, I guess I'm a tad bit distracted today. I'll be much better as soon as you straighten me out in detention." Her voice had gone silky and low. She played with her hair, licked her lips, let her eyes wander down his body. He looked at the ceiling as he told her to pay attention and work on her note taking, please. Maybe he was counting ceiling tiles.

Hermione scanned the room, looking for her supervisor so she could either hit them or fuck them. She could go for both right now.

She was focusing so intently on the parchment before her that she hardly noticed the students filing out of the room around her. She did notice, however, the device between her legs shrinking, and then flying down her skirts and into the robes of a passing Hufflepuff who murmured "congrats" as he walked by. Or maybe she was just hearing things. She was exhausted, and she felt empty. She had been teased and tortured for an hour, and she hadn't cum. Sure she had passed, but bloody hell she needed a good fuck.

And then there he was, standing over her with his hair mussed and his yellow eyes watching her. She stood up in a rush, placing her body dramatically close to his. He watched her hand reverently as her hand hovered over his chest. His eyes fluttered shut, and she could practically feel his heart beating, steady and strong. The setting sun flooded the room, throwing light and heat on his back, silloughtetting him, his broad shoulders, spiky hair.

"Open your eyes, Professor. Tell me something I should hear." He did.

"You're a student Her-Miss Granger. I am your teacher -"

"So teach me. Tell me what you want me to do." His eyes flicked from where her hand still sat, suspended over his heart, to her soft brown ones. She looked right back at him through her lashes.

"Teach me, Professor." He growled, his face darkened by the great beams of sunlight cascading through the windows. The deep conflict reflected in his eyes is gone. He looked as if he was about to jump on her or tear her clothes off or something. She placed both palms firmly on his chest.

"Tell me what you want." His eyes bore into hers, his sharp angles and soft curves outlined with fire. The sun has turned red.

"You." His voice comes out deep and scratchy, full of tension. She doesn't care about seducing him anymore. The ache between her legs, the delectable man in front of her, it's already there. She cupped her hand around the back of his neck, feeling the short stubble at the nape of his neck. Their mouths crashed together, and he snaked his arms around her waist, her back and pulled her into him.

Before she could say 'treacle tart,' her clothes were gone and she was sitting on his desk, his sweat slick skin pressing against hers, his mouth his hair his body, all filled her senses. His smell, taste, feel, the way he sounded, how he looked when he looked at her, it all filled her up, long before he could. But he could. And he did. And it was mind and earth shattering.

The classroom echoed with the moans, grunts and gasps of the two of them. As he pulled in and out of her, every inch of their bodies lighting up with ecstasy, she hooked her feet together around him, and he felt her nails dig into his back as her head fell back and her back arched and her walls clamped down on him, fluttering heavenly.

Hermione missed dinner. And curfew.