your fingertips drum aimlessly against the desk and professor snape's voice has become nothing but background noise— he's droning on about a potion whose name you don't care to remember, meticulously listing off the steps involved in the crafting of it. every step is an intricately woven web; they're all intertwined, each requiring the utmost precision.
his words have melted into each other though, every syllable is blending into the other, similar to the way the sun bleeds into the sky at sunset— the way the colors of the rainbow are welded together— the alchemic bonds form between acids— the way theodore nott's eyes have moulded themselves against your soul— as if he can actually see the damn thing hovering over your body.
part of you feels uncomfortable, you feel as though he's peering into the deepest and darkest parts of your soul—you feel bare under his gaze— it's terrifying.
another part of you though, feels admired, beautiful— loved.
his eyes are glazed over in that expression. that intense expression he always seems to direct towards you and only you.
you notice it when you're doubled over in laughter at another silly joke he makes, you notice it when your lips are molded against his and he pulls away for a second to admire you— his lips are immediately over yours again, but you notice it nonetheless— you notice it when you're dining in the great hall, you're laughing with pansy, and he just sits there— admiring you.
and you sure as hell notice it when you're in class with him and all you can think about is the piercing feeling of his gaze on you.
~~~~
the class has ended you feel almost guilty— your parchment is bare and your quill is dry— though the feelings are washed away when you feel a pair of arms wrap around you from behind, and you immediately lean into them.
even if you hadn't memorized his scent— a mixture of cigarette smoke and expensive cologne— you'd still know it was him, no one would dare touch you like this.
his face nuzzles in the crook of your neck and he takes a deep inhale. you let out a soft giggle and maneuver your arm to his head, allowing your fingertips to lightly dust over his scalp— he groans at the feeling.
your fellow classmates have dispersed from the classroom at this point, though you doubt their presence would have deterred him from moulding himself into your arms.
his fingertips trail up your body, he's dusting them over your sides and the feeling is euphoric. you want his hands on you for the rest of your life, you want them to brand you, to imprint so deeply into your skin that you feel them even when they're not on you.
"you have a staring problem, you know," you let out softly, you're still leaning into his touch and you have no intentions of moving.
he lets out a soft chuckle against your neck— his face is still buried in it— "you don't seem to mind," you can practically hear the smirk in his voice, "if you don't like it though—"
"nuh uh," you immediately cut him off, moving your arms to cover his that are wrapped around you and gently pulling them off. you turn to face him and look up at him, your lips immediately form into a pout.
his hands are immediately on you again, pulling you closer and trailing up your entire body— you revel in the way he always seems to need to be touching you— and he lets out a throaty chuckle before leaning down to your lips and pressing a soft kiss to your bottom lip, which is still jutted out in a pout.
you melt into the kiss and wrap your arms around around his neck, pulling him closer.
his lips fit perfectly against yours and the world around you blends into nothingness. his fingers are entangled in your hair and they weave meticulously through the silk strands.
he lifts you up onto the table, as if you weigh nothing, your legs instinctively wrap around his waist— though you're suddenly accutely aware of the fact that you're still in a classroom, where anyone could walk in.
you detach your lips from his— though he doesn't let you get too far, your body is still intertwined with his— and you will your voice to speak.
"teddy, we're still in cla—" those are all the words you're able to get out before he's on you again— he's hungry, insatiable— and it's becoming increasingly difficult to not let him ravage you on the table.
your inner turmoil is soon silenced though, because a girl— whose name you don't know, nor care to know— is screeching.
and before you or theo can even utter a word, she's already out the door.
you push theo away from you and hop off the table, you're walking away from him, not sparing him a glance, and petulantly ignoring the loud howls of laughter he's letting out from behind you.
—end
(lowkey hate this lol)
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