eight

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When Milo had entered the Defence classroom, he was rather disappointed to find that the class was already mostly full, leaving the only free seat as his usual spot next to Wren. He reluctantly sat down beside her, her eyes bright and a smile on her face.

"Hi!" Her voice was too perky for normal Wren. Milo simply ignored her, placing his bag on the floor beside him and resting his head on his hand so that his arm was blocking her out.

Wren sighed, defeated. It had been a couple days now since the whole Percy incident, and Wren could honestly say that she had never regretted anything more in her life; And being a Deatheaters daughter, she had done some questionable things growing up.

She decided she was going to let Milo sit on it for a while, hoping that he would eventually come back.

A strange fluttering in her stomach drew her attention, as she picked at her fingers and waited for Remus to arrive. She hadn't seen him since he had helped with her Werewolf essay last week, her mind mulling over and over what he had implied.

The only cure for werewolfism is a specialised potion that only one individual in the whole entire world knows how to make.

Thomas Winslow.

The mere thought of the imprisoned man made Wren sick to her stomach, and yet he kept coming up in nearly every conversation she had this term. Wren hated how everything she did always seemed to end back with her father.

She found herself relieved when Professor Snape sauntered in, his beady eyes scanning over the room full of students as he walked along the aisle. When he had reached the front of the room, turning dramatically on his heel to face the students, Wren couldn't help but raise her hand.

"Miss Winslow?" He eyed her suspiciously. Wren wasn't usually one to ask questions during lessons, preferring to sit back and stay quiet.

"Where's Professor Lupin?" She asked, feeling Milo's eyes on her for a brief moment.

Snape responded with a raise of his brows and a small jolt of his head, "Why?"

Wren couldn't help but scoff, "I was just wondering, I.."

"Is there something wrong with me teaching Defence?" He queried, taking a few steps closer to where Wren and Milo were sitting.

Milo shot her a warning glare, as if telling her to just be quiet. But Wren was stubborn when it came to Snape, she refused to fall victim to his common acts of intimidation.

"No, Professor." She almost spat, "Just curious."

"Hmm." Snape huffed, "Detention." He started to walk away, his cape following its usual dramatic swish as he moved.

"What?" Wren really needed to learn when to back down, "That's so not fair!"

"I could always call your mother, Wren." He rushed over to her, leaning down slightly as he lowered his voice, "Would that be more fair?"

Wren's face visibly fell at his threat, a small smirk of victory appearing on the professor's usually straight set lips.

*

Without Milo to keep her company, Wren found herself bored senseless once her classes had ended. There was only so long she could spend staring at her dorm room ceiling, waiting for her detention to roll around.

She walked into the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom a few minutes early, knowing Snape's view on tardiness, only to find it empty. She took her place in her usual seat, fiddling with her fingers as she waited. Maybe she should give Snape a lesson on being late.

Not long after, the door to the classroom swung open with a thud. Hushed yet raised voices filled the room, rapid footsteps sounding against the cobble floor as the professors walked along the aisle between tables.

"I told you, Severus." Lupin brushed the elder man off, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Snape scoffed, "You're up to something, Lupin. I.."

The man's usually unbothered façade mimicked that of shock for a moment as he saw Wren sitting at one of the many wooden tables, "Miss Winslow," He furrowed his brow, "What are you doing here?"

Wren made brief eye contact with Remus before looking back to Snape, "You gave me detention, Professor."

"Right." The man faltered, looking at his fellow professor for help, though Lupin simply shrugged, "Well, do some work."

Snape noticed the way Wren frowned at him, though he was too caught up in interrogating Remus to chastise her. Wren pulled a pad of parchment out from her satchel, opting for drawing random doodles instead of doing work.

She tried to listen in on the two professor's conversation, but they made a point of standing just out of her earshot. She noted how Remus had chosen to stand with his back to her, perhaps afraid of making eye contact with the girl as he recalled their conversation at the start of term.

"You're a student."

He was right, she was a student. And he was her professor. Yet she couldn't help but feel disappointed. She had grown to find herself searching for that signature patchouli scent, or that endearing husk that he spoke with.

Over the past few months, what seemed like fate had kept pulling them together. As much as they both knew what they were doing was wrong, neither one of them could quite stay away.

She felt the urge to tell him all about her situation with Milo and Percy, to ask him what she should do. She wanted to, but she knew he wouldn't care. He would more than likely dismiss her with nothing more than the roll of his eyes and a simple gesture with his hand, telling her that it was her own fault.

Some part of her, though, wanted him to care. She just wasn't completely aware of that, yet.

"Miss Winslow." Snape's bored drawl broke her out of whatever world her mind had drifted to, as she blinked back her confusion.

""Professor Lupin has kindly agreed to chaperone your detention." He informed her.

Wren couldn't help but giggle, "Chaperone?"

"Just do your work." Snape dismissed her, rolling his eyes before sauntering through the large oak door.

Silence filled the room, an awkward silence that had Wren fidgeting in her seat. Remus' head was buried in parchment, as he scribbled away grading another student's work. Wren was trying to do her own work, or doodle rather, but found that her eyes kept drifting to the man in front of her.

"Where have you been?" Her voice was small, Remus having to blink back the sudden shock of her speaking.

"What?" He replied, his brows furrowed.

"You haven't been teaching." She explained, her awkwardness increasing tenfold as she lowered her eyes and began to fiddle with the soft bristles of her quills feather.

"Oh." He replied, "I wasn't feeling well." He brushed off their conversation as if it hadn't even happened, returning to his work as if the girl he so desperately longed for wasn't a mere foot away.

The same silence from earlier fell upon them again, as Wren wracked her brain for something, anything, to say. She knew he would rather not speak to her, but she simply couldn't sit there and act as if they didn't know each other; She couldn't just act as though he were simply a professor overlooking a random student's detention, when they were so much more.

She stood from her chair and made her way over to the far wall, lined floor to ceiling with shelves full of dusty, leather bound books. Her hand danced along the spines of a few, before her need to speak to Remus got the better of her. She turned to look at him, gently leaning her back against the bookshelf behind her.

"Milo hates me." At the sound of Wren speaking again, Remus sighed. As he averted his gaze from the essay in front of him, he prepared himself to tell Wren that he didn't care, that she shouldn't be speaking to him. But as his eyes found hers, something inside of him cracked.

Wren looked so upset, distraught almost, the edges of her brows upturned and bottom lip starting to quiver. "Miss Winslow." His voice was firm to start with, but as the hazel of her eyes bore into his own, he felt himself cracking more and more to the point where his voice was barely even a whisper, "Wren.."

"Do you hate me?" Her question caught him off guard, and hurt him in a way that he couldn't quite describe. He opened his mouth to reply, but found he didn't know what to say. Instead, he gave a small, but noticeable, shake of his head.

The girl was quiet for a moment, the tension between them so strong that it couldn't even have been cut with the sharpest of knives, before she whispered, "I thought that you did."

Remus sighed as he placed his quill down on his desk, "I could never hate you, Wren."

It wasn't quite what she wanted to hear, but it would do. It was comforting to know that she hadn't alienated everyone she cared about, to know that she still had someone who would at least consider saving her. Saving her from what exactly, she wasn't sure.

She took a deep inhale of air, relief washing over her as she gave Remus a small and thankful smile. She felt as though she could focus on her work now that she had gotten that off her chest. Remus, however, now had so much more to say.

"I just need to stay away from you." The man continued. His voice was low and husky, as if his words were fighting with what he really wanted to say. He stood from his chair, stalking around his desk until he was only a few inches away from her.

"Stay away then." She whispered, as she looked up at him through her lashes. She could feel her heart beating in her chest as Remus towered over her, pinning her to the bookshelf with his gaze alone.

Electricity bubbled across the skin of her forearm, as Remus grabbed onto her wrist with a gentle but commanding hand. He pushed up the cuff of her jumper sleeve, rubbing the soft pad of his thumb across where she had burnt herself a few months ago. He felt relieved to see that there was no scar, just freckles painting her skin.

Wren's eyes were glued to where his thumb was still rhythmically stroking her wrist, "Just like magic."

Remus scoffed, before closing the gap between them. His lips crashed against Wren's, but not before a small gasp escaped Wren as he pulled her towards him.

As his hand made its way from her wrist to her hair, fingers tangling within the curly strands, it felt as though every thing Remus had been worrying about had simply disappeared. All he could think about was Wren, and how he wanted to taste her lips against his own forever.

He had been longing for this ever since he saw her in Defense at the start of term. He was rather impressed that he had managed to stay away for so long; He was only half-human, after all.

The palms of Wren's hands were pressed up against the soft cashmere of Remus' jumper, though one slowly snaked up to rest against his cheek. She felt a strange sense of joy at him letting her touch his face, her thumb brushing against one of the many scars littering his skin.

Remus' hand strayed, pushing up the structured pleats of Wren's skirt. He was annoyed to find his path blocked by her tights, as he reluctantly pulled away from her, rather harshly pulling them down. Wren giggled as she stepped out of her tights with Remus' persuasion, her fingers intertwined with his hair to steady herself.

Remus smiled against her lips as he stood and started kissing her again, his hands making quick work of her shirt buttons as he pulled it free of her skirt waistband. His lips moved from hers, placing delicate yet hungry kisses down her neck and along her collarbone.

Remus dropped his head slightly, so that the soft curls of his mousy brown hair tickled the supple skin of Wren's neck, as he fumbled with his belt. He lifted Wren, one hand below her ass as he pushed her further up against the shelf. Wren wrapped her legs around his waist, burying her head into the crook of his neck as he buried himself inside of her.

He fit perfectly, as if they were the last two pieces of a long forgotten puzzle. It was so wrong, and yet it felt so right.

Remus was almost bouncing Wren up and down, his hands holding tightly onto her from the bottom. The books behind her were scratching against her back, but it simply added to the sensation, her mind slowly tunnelling towards pleasurable overdrive.

Wren's nails were digging into Remus' shoulders, throwing her head back with a moan as he pushed up against her prime spot. The usually pale skin of her cheeks were flushed, her chest also reddening from the friction and heated pleasure.

Remus moved to balance Wren against one arm, the other hand slowly moving across the top of her thigh until his thumb reached her most sensitive part, rubbing against it rhythmically. He could feel her closing around him with each thrust until she tightened completely, her legs going almost limp around his waist. It was his turn to bury his head in the crook of Wren's neck as he came, the veins in his forearms popping out under his rolled sleeve as he gripped the bookshelf next to her head.

Wren's now bare feet found the floor, softly padding against the cold floorboards as she dropped her legs, her arms held around Remus' neck as she stumbled slightly. Last time they did this, Remus had practically ran from the room without even a simple glance in Wren's direction. He felt so close now, ragged breaths tickling Wren's ear as he pulled himself out, his hand giving her waist a small, reassuring squeeze.

Their eyes met for the briefest of moments, before Remus was pulling away, frantically zipping up his trousers and tying his belt. The door to the classroom was creaking open, the figure of a student appearing through the crack.

Wren smoothed down her skirt, quickly slipping on her loafers so that she was no longer barefoot. Remus had his back to the door, a quiet curse passing his lips as he struggled with the leather of his belt. Wren noticed her tights bundled on the floor from where Remus had thrown them in his hurry, as she quickly kicked them under his desk and out of view. She grabbed a random book from the shelf she had just been fucked up against and sat down at the closest table, trying to hide her flushed cheeks as she pretended to read.

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