296 Ways to Seduce a Teacher: Ch. 5
Title: 296 Ways to Seduce a Teacher
Author: _demonsblade_
Pairing: Sirius/Remus
Rating: R
Genre: AU, romance, drama, angst, fluff, humor
Warning: Slash, mild chanslash (6-year diff.), boy/man snogging, boy/man sexual situations, mild violence, strong language
Spoilers: none
Disclaimer: All characters © J.K. Rowling
Summary: AU. Remus has been hired to tutor the Black heir, Sirius. But it seems Sirius has a few things to teach him, as well. Can this possibly the start of a friendship...or something more? And what will happen if the Blacks find out?
Teaser:
“You are a worthless piece of filth. You don’t deserve the Black name!”
Sirius knew he was digging himself a hole, but he was beyond the point of caring. He curled his hands into fists, shaking with the effort to control himself.
“Well guess what? I DON’T WANT THE BLACK NAME!” he screamed back.
If you haven't read the previous chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4
Sirius stared. There was no way-no way his father could have possibly seen what had happened. But then-
And the answer came to him.
Kreacher.
The damn house elf was going to pay for this.
“Sirius,” his father snapped, fury burning in his eyes. “Do you have any idea,” he said, speaking the words carefully and slowly, his voice shaking with anger, “what trouble we went through to arrange this for you? Do you know what would happen to the Black reputation if this gets out?”
The reputation. It figures.
“I don’t care what happens to the Black reputation…Father,” he snarled.
“You filthy blood traitor!” His father’s voice was nearly at a whisper, but the frigid fury of it made Sirius wince. The man reached out his hand across the table as if trying to strangle him. Thankfully, the feat was rather difficult to achieve with ten feet of table between them.
They both rose from their chairs at the same instant, and before Sirius had realized what had happened, his father had crossed the length of the gap separating them and had hit him hard across the face. He raised his hand again, but Sirius backed away, looking fearlessly into his father’s face.
“I don’t care anymore,” he spat, putting as much venom into his voice as he could.
“You are a worthless piece of filth. You don’t deserve the Black name!”
Sirius knew he was digging himself a hole, but he was beyond the point of caring. He curled his hands into fists, shaking with the effort to control himself.
“Well guess what? I DON’T FUCKING WANT THE BLACK NAME!” he screamed back.
A hand caught him sharply across the cheek.
“How dare you,” his father breathed. “How dare you even think of touching Lupin? Disgusting little fa-”
“Didn’t Kreacher tell you?” Sirius plowed on recklessly, smirking madly. “He kissed me back. He bloody fucking kissed me right back! What do you say to that?”
His father was stunned. He stopped dead, breathing hard. Silence stretched before them, until his father, quivering with anger, turned away.
“Go to your room,” he commanded coldly. “You are not to leave your room for any purpose until we arrange another tutor.”
Sirius opened his mouth to retort but his father cut him off with a loud summons for Kreacher. The house elf appeared with a crack, slinking low and looking quite delighted with himself. His sycophantic sneer made Sirius want to put his foot through the elf’s face.
“You are forbidden to tell his mother about anything you might have seen in the study,” his father said, tonelessly addressing the creature that bowed at his feet.
Kreacher’s face fell visibly.
Sirius blinked. He hardly believed his ears.
“Father?” he asked uncertainly, certain that this man could not be the head of the Black house at all.
“Go to your room. I will decide a suitable punishment for you.”
“But-”
“Go to your room.”
Sirius thought it unwise to test his father’s uncharacteristic generosity this late in the evening. So he quietly removed himself to his room and fumed privately about the unfairness of it all.
He remained in his room the whole of the night and the morning that followed. Food appeared on his desk at breakfast time. He saw no one-not his parents, not even the house elf Kreacher. Sirius had never felt as hopeless as he did then. He had no idea what was going to happen to him. They couldn’t leave him like this. Surely they would get another tutor…but then what? Would Sirius be able to take lessons in the study when he knew what had almost happened there? When his father knew?
But one thing was sure. He was never going to see Remus again. And that thought caused a painful lump in his throat. First Hogwarts and his friends…now Remus.
His only hope now was that Remus or Dumbledore realize that something was wrong…
He had just been drifting off to sleep when there was a knock at the door, followed by the loud crack of Kreacher Apparating into the room. The dirty elf smiled unpleasantly as he bowed low.
“Young master is wanted for dinner,” he said, his voice positively giddy with malice. He added in an undertone, “Oh, how Kreacher wishes he can tell his mistress the truth about the traitorous brat.”
“That’s enough, Kreacher,” Sirius said loudly.
Kreacher looked up, startled, and scowled before disappearing with a small pop. Sirius sighed and, padding dejectedly over to the ornate wardrobe that took up the better part of a corner of the room, changed out of the clothes he had worn the night before and had not taken off.
Anxiety pressed at him from all sides. Why were they calling him to lunch? Had his father changed his mind about not telling anyone? Had they found another tutor? Was he about to be punished?
The thought made him shudder. The other times that he had been punished, it hadn’t been pretty. When his parents had discovered Sirius’s preferences in romance, they had locked him in the basement for nearly five weeks-five weeks without any contact with anyone apart from the house elf that brought him food twice a day. Sirius wasn’t too keen on repeating that certain episode.
With a last look in the mirror to make sure his fear could not be detected on his face or in his countenance, Sirius made his way down to the dining room where his parents were waiting for him.
His mother looked angry, but she did not so much as look up when he entered. Sirius’s father, on the other hand, shot him a look of mingled loathing and fury.
“…I can’t believe the nerve of him,” his mother was saying, hacking her potatoes into infinitesimal pieces in her wrath.
Sirius took the seat opposite her, trying to attract as little attention as possible. His plate filled with food as soon as he had sat himself.
“I’ll make sure he never works for a respectable family again,” his mother said, and Sirius realized with a jolt that they were talking about Remus.
With a look of warning, his father turned to him. “I’ve been doing some looking into your tutor’s files,” he drawled, his face and voice devoid of any emotion. “Rookwood at the Ministry did a background check for me. It turns out that Lupin is a half-blood.” His father spat the last word as if it was a disgusting swear.
A part of Sirius realized what his father was doing. He had found a reason to dismiss Remus without telling anyone what Sirius had done. But another part of him-the part that stood firm against his parents’ pureblood supremacy-flared in indignation. Sirius stifled his retort with difficulty.
“Yes, his mother was a filthy Mudblood,” said his mother, finally acknowledging Sirius’s presence. “Sordid half-breeds, befouling our purity. I always knew there was something wrong with that Lupin.”
Sirius dearly wanted to tell her to just go hang herself, he restrained himself with tremendous effort, settling instead for cutting his meat with much more force than was necessary.
“I’ve asked Rookwood to look into new teachers,” his father said. There was a note of finality and warning in his tone that told Sirius not to interrupt at the same time that it told him that the matter was closed to discussion. “He says Nott might available.”
Nott…he had heard that name before. Wasn’t that the name of a known Death Eater?
Right then and there Sirius made up his mind. He was going to get out…somehow. He had to.
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Remus stepped out of the fireplace, brushing soot off his robes. Dumbledore’s office was just as he remembered it from his own school days. Portraits of past headmasters slumbered on the walls. A desk stood against one wall lined with shelves. Everywhere stood all manner of delicate silver instruments-whirling, twirling, and puffing smoke. Fawkes the phoenix perched behind the desk.
“Ah! Remus. I received your message.”
He turned toward the door to find Dumbledore entering the room, dressed from head to foot in a purple robe embroidered with silver stars. Half-moon spectacles rested on his nose, which was long and crooked as if it had been broken at least twice.
Dumbledore gestured to a chair, settling himself behind the desk. Remus sat gingerly on it, considerably more than just a little nervous. He had no idea how much Dumbledore knew; the man always had a knack of figuring things out faster than most people.
“So, Remus.” Dumbledore regarded him calmly over the tips of his folded fingers. “What do you plan to do now?”
Remus blinked. He had expected something along the lines of “Why were you fired?” or “What did you do Sirius?” or even “How do you plan to escape Azkaban now that you’ve kissed your pupil?”. Remus suddenly had a vision of Sirius’s lips, swollen from contact and glistening with shared saliva, a pink tongue just visible through the gap.
“Remus?”
“Oh, right. Er…”
“The Blacks have figured out that you’re a half-blood,” explained Dumbledore. Remus felt the cold lump in his stomach lighten. A half-blood…was that all? “What do you plan to do now?”
“I-I don’t know, sir,” Remus answered truthfully, trying to keep from smiling. He felt dizzily relieved that his dismissal had been a simple matter of bloodlines instead of the discovery of the kiss they had shared.
But wait-what about Sirius? This meant that he wouldn’t be able to see his pupil again. And then all of a sudden the leaden weight in his stomach was back.
Dumbledore gave him a thoughtful look. There was a twinkle in his eyes and a small smile on his face that made Remus feel as though he was being X-rayed.
“I believe it is best that we wait and see what happens. I will see if I can get the Blacks to hire another one of the Order, but I think the best we can hope for now is someone who won’t teach Sirius the Dark Arts.”
“And me-?”
“I will have another job for you soon. In the meantime, I need someone to research methods of achieving partial or complete immortality. We all know Voldemort will do anything to evade death, but I think it would be helpful if we had a catalogued list of any and all methods one could presumably take to prolong the grip of death.”
“I’ll get right on it, Professor,” said Remus, glad for an job to distract him from the subject of his pupil-a subject the his mind kept wandering back to, no matter what he did to divert his attention. “Do you still want me to stay in London?” Remus hoped Dumbledore couldn’t detect the wistfulness in his voice.
Dumbledore’s eyes sparkled with an emotion Remus couldn’t quite place his finger on. “Yes, Remus. I suppose you still want to stay in the city?”
“I want to be around in case there’s any…” He trailed off, unsure of what to say or, indeed, how to say it.
“In case there’s any development on the Black front?” Dumbledore asked shrewdly.
Remus nodded.
“I must ask you Remus. Is there anything you wish to tell me?”
He looked up into Dumbledore’s trusting blue eyes and felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. Remus felt unclean, unfit to be sitting here in the office of one of the few men who ever trusted him. He wanted desperately to confess everything, to plead forgiveness. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He couldn’t bring himself to extinguish the trust and pride in the headmaster’s eyes. And so he looked away and shook his head.
“No, sir. Nothing.”
“Lemon drop?”
“What?” Remus looked back at Dumbledore to see the headmaster holding out a tin of Muggle sweets. “No thanks, Professor.” He stood, reaching out a hand toward the headmaster. “I should be getting back to my flat, sir. I’ll call in to report on the research…two days from now?”
“Two days seems right,” said Dumbledore, shaking his hand.
Remus grabbed a pinch of Floo powder from the box atop the mantle and threw it into the flames, which flared up and turned emerald green. He turned back with one foot in the fireplace.
“Thanks for everything, Professor.” He didn’t know why he said it, just that he felt he had to.
Dumbledore merely smiled and nodded once, the last image Remus saw before the office dissolved into a whirlwind of green flames.
Chapter 6
Author: _demonsblade_
Pairing: Sirius/Remus
Rating: R
Genre: AU, romance, drama, angst, fluff, humor
Warning: Slash, mild chanslash (6-year diff.), boy/man snogging, boy/man sexual situations, mild violence, strong language
Spoilers: none
Disclaimer: All characters © J.K. Rowling
Summary: AU. Remus has been hired to tutor the Black heir, Sirius. But it seems Sirius has a few things to teach him, as well. Can this possibly the start of a friendship...or something more? And what will happen if the Blacks find out?
Teaser:
“You are a worthless piece of filth. You don’t deserve the Black name!”
Sirius knew he was digging himself a hole, but he was beyond the point of caring. He curled his hands into fists, shaking with the effort to control himself.
“Well guess what? I DON’T WANT THE BLACK NAME!” he screamed back.
If you haven't read the previous chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4
Sirius stared. There was no way-no way his father could have possibly seen what had happened. But then-
And the answer came to him.
Kreacher.
The damn house elf was going to pay for this.
“Sirius,” his father snapped, fury burning in his eyes. “Do you have any idea,” he said, speaking the words carefully and slowly, his voice shaking with anger, “what trouble we went through to arrange this for you? Do you know what would happen to the Black reputation if this gets out?”
The reputation. It figures.
“I don’t care what happens to the Black reputation…Father,” he snarled.
“You filthy blood traitor!” His father’s voice was nearly at a whisper, but the frigid fury of it made Sirius wince. The man reached out his hand across the table as if trying to strangle him. Thankfully, the feat was rather difficult to achieve with ten feet of table between them.
They both rose from their chairs at the same instant, and before Sirius had realized what had happened, his father had crossed the length of the gap separating them and had hit him hard across the face. He raised his hand again, but Sirius backed away, looking fearlessly into his father’s face.
“I don’t care anymore,” he spat, putting as much venom into his voice as he could.
“You are a worthless piece of filth. You don’t deserve the Black name!”
Sirius knew he was digging himself a hole, but he was beyond the point of caring. He curled his hands into fists, shaking with the effort to control himself.
“Well guess what? I DON’T FUCKING WANT THE BLACK NAME!” he screamed back.
A hand caught him sharply across the cheek.
“How dare you,” his father breathed. “How dare you even think of touching Lupin? Disgusting little fa-”
“Didn’t Kreacher tell you?” Sirius plowed on recklessly, smirking madly. “He kissed me back. He bloody fucking kissed me right back! What do you say to that?”
His father was stunned. He stopped dead, breathing hard. Silence stretched before them, until his father, quivering with anger, turned away.
“Go to your room,” he commanded coldly. “You are not to leave your room for any purpose until we arrange another tutor.”
Sirius opened his mouth to retort but his father cut him off with a loud summons for Kreacher. The house elf appeared with a crack, slinking low and looking quite delighted with himself. His sycophantic sneer made Sirius want to put his foot through the elf’s face.
“You are forbidden to tell his mother about anything you might have seen in the study,” his father said, tonelessly addressing the creature that bowed at his feet.
Kreacher’s face fell visibly.
Sirius blinked. He hardly believed his ears.
“Father?” he asked uncertainly, certain that this man could not be the head of the Black house at all.
“Go to your room. I will decide a suitable punishment for you.”
“But-”
“Go to your room.”
Sirius thought it unwise to test his father’s uncharacteristic generosity this late in the evening. So he quietly removed himself to his room and fumed privately about the unfairness of it all.
He remained in his room the whole of the night and the morning that followed. Food appeared on his desk at breakfast time. He saw no one-not his parents, not even the house elf Kreacher. Sirius had never felt as hopeless as he did then. He had no idea what was going to happen to him. They couldn’t leave him like this. Surely they would get another tutor…but then what? Would Sirius be able to take lessons in the study when he knew what had almost happened there? When his father knew?
But one thing was sure. He was never going to see Remus again. And that thought caused a painful lump in his throat. First Hogwarts and his friends…now Remus.
His only hope now was that Remus or Dumbledore realize that something was wrong…
He had just been drifting off to sleep when there was a knock at the door, followed by the loud crack of Kreacher Apparating into the room. The dirty elf smiled unpleasantly as he bowed low.
“Young master is wanted for dinner,” he said, his voice positively giddy with malice. He added in an undertone, “Oh, how Kreacher wishes he can tell his mistress the truth about the traitorous brat.”
“That’s enough, Kreacher,” Sirius said loudly.
Kreacher looked up, startled, and scowled before disappearing with a small pop. Sirius sighed and, padding dejectedly over to the ornate wardrobe that took up the better part of a corner of the room, changed out of the clothes he had worn the night before and had not taken off.
Anxiety pressed at him from all sides. Why were they calling him to lunch? Had his father changed his mind about not telling anyone? Had they found another tutor? Was he about to be punished?
The thought made him shudder. The other times that he had been punished, it hadn’t been pretty. When his parents had discovered Sirius’s preferences in romance, they had locked him in the basement for nearly five weeks-five weeks without any contact with anyone apart from the house elf that brought him food twice a day. Sirius wasn’t too keen on repeating that certain episode.
With a last look in the mirror to make sure his fear could not be detected on his face or in his countenance, Sirius made his way down to the dining room where his parents were waiting for him.
His mother looked angry, but she did not so much as look up when he entered. Sirius’s father, on the other hand, shot him a look of mingled loathing and fury.
“…I can’t believe the nerve of him,” his mother was saying, hacking her potatoes into infinitesimal pieces in her wrath.
Sirius took the seat opposite her, trying to attract as little attention as possible. His plate filled with food as soon as he had sat himself.
“I’ll make sure he never works for a respectable family again,” his mother said, and Sirius realized with a jolt that they were talking about Remus.
With a look of warning, his father turned to him. “I’ve been doing some looking into your tutor’s files,” he drawled, his face and voice devoid of any emotion. “Rookwood at the Ministry did a background check for me. It turns out that Lupin is a half-blood.” His father spat the last word as if it was a disgusting swear.
A part of Sirius realized what his father was doing. He had found a reason to dismiss Remus without telling anyone what Sirius had done. But another part of him-the part that stood firm against his parents’ pureblood supremacy-flared in indignation. Sirius stifled his retort with difficulty.
“Yes, his mother was a filthy Mudblood,” said his mother, finally acknowledging Sirius’s presence. “Sordid half-breeds, befouling our purity. I always knew there was something wrong with that Lupin.”
Sirius dearly wanted to tell her to just go hang herself, he restrained himself with tremendous effort, settling instead for cutting his meat with much more force than was necessary.
“I’ve asked Rookwood to look into new teachers,” his father said. There was a note of finality and warning in his tone that told Sirius not to interrupt at the same time that it told him that the matter was closed to discussion. “He says Nott might available.”
Nott…he had heard that name before. Wasn’t that the name of a known Death Eater?
Right then and there Sirius made up his mind. He was going to get out…somehow. He had to.
5555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555
Remus stepped out of the fireplace, brushing soot off his robes. Dumbledore’s office was just as he remembered it from his own school days. Portraits of past headmasters slumbered on the walls. A desk stood against one wall lined with shelves. Everywhere stood all manner of delicate silver instruments-whirling, twirling, and puffing smoke. Fawkes the phoenix perched behind the desk.
“Ah! Remus. I received your message.”
He turned toward the door to find Dumbledore entering the room, dressed from head to foot in a purple robe embroidered with silver stars. Half-moon spectacles rested on his nose, which was long and crooked as if it had been broken at least twice.
Dumbledore gestured to a chair, settling himself behind the desk. Remus sat gingerly on it, considerably more than just a little nervous. He had no idea how much Dumbledore knew; the man always had a knack of figuring things out faster than most people.
“So, Remus.” Dumbledore regarded him calmly over the tips of his folded fingers. “What do you plan to do now?”
Remus blinked. He had expected something along the lines of “Why were you fired?” or “What did you do Sirius?” or even “How do you plan to escape Azkaban now that you’ve kissed your pupil?”. Remus suddenly had a vision of Sirius’s lips, swollen from contact and glistening with shared saliva, a pink tongue just visible through the gap.
“Remus?”
“Oh, right. Er…”
“The Blacks have figured out that you’re a half-blood,” explained Dumbledore. Remus felt the cold lump in his stomach lighten. A half-blood…was that all? “What do you plan to do now?”
“I-I don’t know, sir,” Remus answered truthfully, trying to keep from smiling. He felt dizzily relieved that his dismissal had been a simple matter of bloodlines instead of the discovery of the kiss they had shared.
But wait-what about Sirius? This meant that he wouldn’t be able to see his pupil again. And then all of a sudden the leaden weight in his stomach was back.
Dumbledore gave him a thoughtful look. There was a twinkle in his eyes and a small smile on his face that made Remus feel as though he was being X-rayed.
“I believe it is best that we wait and see what happens. I will see if I can get the Blacks to hire another one of the Order, but I think the best we can hope for now is someone who won’t teach Sirius the Dark Arts.”
“And me-?”
“I will have another job for you soon. In the meantime, I need someone to research methods of achieving partial or complete immortality. We all know Voldemort will do anything to evade death, but I think it would be helpful if we had a catalogued list of any and all methods one could presumably take to prolong the grip of death.”
“I’ll get right on it, Professor,” said Remus, glad for an job to distract him from the subject of his pupil-a subject the his mind kept wandering back to, no matter what he did to divert his attention. “Do you still want me to stay in London?” Remus hoped Dumbledore couldn’t detect the wistfulness in his voice.
Dumbledore’s eyes sparkled with an emotion Remus couldn’t quite place his finger on. “Yes, Remus. I suppose you still want to stay in the city?”
“I want to be around in case there’s any…” He trailed off, unsure of what to say or, indeed, how to say it.
“In case there’s any development on the Black front?” Dumbledore asked shrewdly.
Remus nodded.
“I must ask you Remus. Is there anything you wish to tell me?”
He looked up into Dumbledore’s trusting blue eyes and felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. Remus felt unclean, unfit to be sitting here in the office of one of the few men who ever trusted him. He wanted desperately to confess everything, to plead forgiveness. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He couldn’t bring himself to extinguish the trust and pride in the headmaster’s eyes. And so he looked away and shook his head.
“No, sir. Nothing.”
“Lemon drop?”
“What?” Remus looked back at Dumbledore to see the headmaster holding out a tin of Muggle sweets. “No thanks, Professor.” He stood, reaching out a hand toward the headmaster. “I should be getting back to my flat, sir. I’ll call in to report on the research…two days from now?”
“Two days seems right,” said Dumbledore, shaking his hand.
Remus grabbed a pinch of Floo powder from the box atop the mantle and threw it into the flames, which flared up and turned emerald green. He turned back with one foot in the fireplace.
“Thanks for everything, Professor.” He didn’t know why he said it, just that he felt he had to.
Dumbledore merely smiled and nodded once, the last image Remus saw before the office dissolved into a whirlwind of green flames.
Chapter 6