I always assumed the girls in my dorm were exaggerating when they claimed they could feel boys watching them – how can you feel such a thing? I know now. It's a tingle in your spine, an uncomfortable twitch in your neck, a buzzing in the back of your skull. Any time his eyes linger on me, I can sense it, and when I glance up he no longer looks away. His eyes call me, and I know I will spend that night in his chambers.

It started with detention for a skirt worn too short (though it was past the knee, longer than Lavender's) which led to his hand sneaking below that same skirt, allowing him to discover my cotton panties. I protested – he was my teacher! – but a skilled wriggle of his long fingers dampened my panties, and objections fell on deaf ears, for my body betrayed me. He Disillusioned me and carried me to his chambers; that first time I was unable to explore, as he went directly to his bed, gently removing my clothes and spreading me out.

The tender ministrations that followed surprised me, for his touch seemed almost loving. He worshipped my breasts with his fingers, tongue, teeth. He laid claim to my stomach with playful nips. He laved my clit with his rough tongue, driving me mad with his fingers in me and lips on me and oh gods his hand reached up to tweak my nipple and I lost it, screaming in pleasure. He kissed me and I licked my essence off his face as I undid his pants, having become an active and willing participant. He sensed how eager I was, and penetrated me quickly and easily. I had heard that the first time would hurt, but it didn't, it was just uncomfortable for a second, and he kept kissing me and caressing me and I started to feel that again and then he came and collapsed on me.

He fell asleep, and I got dressed and left.

The next time, the detention was for helping Seamus. I kissed him first that time, and we didn't make it out of the lab before his pants were off and I was on my knees.

The time after that, there was no detention. I met him in his chambers during my rounds. I got to look around at his chambers, and I saw pictures of me, framed and on display. I gaped at them, turned to look at him, and he was unashamed, telling me he loved me and needed me. I left.

McGonagall didn't care, or maybe she didn't believe me. Maybe all professors took a lover. Maybe it was normal. Maybe she just wanted him to have a real life after the double life he'd led for years.

I went back. He explained. I'm brilliant, like him. I have more social skills, and can help him. I am gorgeous, funny, kind, brave, and a bunch of other effusive adjectives. I listened to him gush and watched him fall to his knees and felt him wrap his arms around my knees.

Now, when I feel his eyes on me, I know he is calling me to him, and I go willingly. I have nobody else, and will take love where I can find it. I pull him onto his bed, tugging his clothes off and pulling him onto me, listening to his words of commitment and devotion, murmuring nonsense lies in response.