One, however-
Eleanor Nott.
You hadn't seen her since the Quidditch game. She didn't seem to notice you, yet. For the sake of your ability to pay attention in class, you felt that it may be prudent to stay that way.
Few students had actually sat down yet, which thankfully left you a generous pick of the desks. You grabbed the one closest to the front, while putting a crowd of students between you and the other.
You had nothing against the other girl; you just preferred to keep transfiguration as non-lewd as possible.
Getting comfortable, you had just begun getting your things out, when Professor McGonagall, followed by Isolde Flamel, whom you had heard that name before, came back into the classroom. Isolde seemed oddly contrite as she followed.
The Professor stopped at her front desk and turned her gaze to the class. Immediately, her eyes sharpened.
"Nott! Crabb! Goyle! What do you three think you're doing!" She asked, voice carrying across the room. You tried to turn and see what was going on, but the rows of students between you and the back of the classroom blocked your view. You could, however, hear the response.
"Sorry, Professor McGonagall. We were just helping her out- "
"Well, if that is your idea of help, then I'm sure you wouldn't mind some remedial lessons on 'helping' from Filch, tonight. Detention."
Some grumbling was heard, but none dared talk back. McGonagall seemed pleased with the reaction.
"Now sit down. Crabb, Goyle, opposite ends. Nott-" Her eyes scanned the classroom for an empty seat. You suddenly became very aware that the one beside you, the aisle seat, was empty. It became very clear to you what was about to happen.
"-Come up here and sit next to Mr. Granger."
There wasn't a response, beyond light shuffling, and then a shadow was cast over you.
.
----------------->
.
"Heya, Herman." She said, looking down at you as a trail of drool ran from her mouth. You wanted to cry.
Whatever happened to a normal class!
"Hello, Eleanor." You answered, a calm smile on your face as you held your mask tight.
The girl shuddered at the use of her name before squeaking happily.
"Sit down, Nott," McGonagall ordered again.
She did so, trapping you between the window and her. She scooted in close enough that your legs touched. Her focus was much more on you than the lecture.
Despite your best efforts, your eye twitched.
The lesson, apparently, was going to be a little bit different today. According to what you heard last class, you were originally supposed to be learning how to transform cloth into hide, and back again.
Today, though, it seemed that the plan had changed, as Professor McGonagall stepped to the front of the room, Isolde close behind her; she had a put-upon look on her face.
"Good afternoon, class, normally, I would have you all pull out your notes, and we would review our discussion last class on the feasibility of gerbils, and we would explore the historical use of them during the second goblin war- " There was the sound of a throat clearing behind her. The Transfiguration professor sighed, taking a single second to look towards the ceiling as if asking the powers that be why she was the one to have to deal with this.
"-but there has been a change in plans." She continued, returning to her serious expression. "Instead, we will be focusing on the art of human transfiguration."
Her words set off a storm of whispers in the classroom. You were similarly awed, just a bit. You hadn't been scheduled to work on human transfiguration until later in the year.
The professor let the gossiping go on for a little while longer, generally, before calling you all back to order.
"This class will be focused on teaching you the theory of human transfiguration." Her stern eyes moved across the crowd. "You are not to try and use any of this until I direct you to, and only in classroom environments. If I have to come rushing to a dormitory at ungodly hours because one of you has turned your dormmate into a newt, you will be serving detention with me for the rest of the year."
The threat, delivered in her usual tone, had all of you straightening. From any other teacher, this may sound like hyperbole, but anyone who has been in class with the Transfiguration professor knew that McGonagall didn't make empty threats.
Two girls who'd been fighting took her promise to put them over her knee if they didn't behave for granted, and swiftly found themselves embarrassed in front of the entire class.
Happy that her words had been sufficiently taken in, she nodded before turning to the blackboard. A flick of her wand had it spinning, chalk floating up and writing on it of their own accord.
"You may have noticed, we have a guest." She said. "I will let her introduce herself." McGonagall shot the other a look that clearly was some mix of Behave and Please no.
Isolde didn't seem to notice as she stepped to the front of the class. You couldn't see her mouth, but her eyes were crinkled in such a way that you could tell she was smiling. It didn't feel like a nice smile either.
"Greetings, ye useless and most pitiable excuses for wizards. It hath become woefully apparent that the standards of this modern age have altogether failed, inasmuch as they have bred forth so worthless and degenerate a generation. Youth hath grown slothful and corrupted, knowing naught of the true nature of toil, discipline, and grit. This day shall I go amongst thee, one by one, and render unto thee such assistance as may make thee marginally less worthless."
Her eyes seemed to shine with a malicious light.
"Prepare yourselves for my arrival, worms."
Several students shivered, and McGonagall looked like she wanted to put her head in her hands.
The class started from there, and McGonagall began on a long and interesting lecture on the intricacies of human transfiguration. You wrote down every word, as she mentioned the differing severity of living vs no living objects, along with those vs muggles, and then versus wizards.
It was quite an interesting topic. And something you intended to question her further on.
But then-
You jumped a little.
There was a hand on your thigh.
It was slowly, ever so slowly, sliding up.
You couldn't help but breathe out through your nose, sighing. Of course.
You turned to your side, expecting to see her try to at least pretend like she wasn't touching you.
.
----------------->
.
She was staring right at you, unashamedly, feeling you up as she did.
"Hey." She whispered.
You met her eyes for just a bit longer, feeling, among other things, altogether done with this entire school.
You just wanted to sit through a single class and take notes in peace, dammit.
…
Ok, so maybe it didn't happen every class, but it certainly felt like it sometimes. It was almost episodic in nature.
What was your life, some type of shitty smut story?
She didn't seem to be taking the hint to move along, if the way her hand had now reached your inner thigh said anything.
"Hey." You deadpanned, staring her down.
She smiled widely in response, and you swore you saw a flash of pink run across her lips.
This was getting almost cartoonish. There was no way anyone was this horny.
She still didn't stop, and even though your quill hand was still moving, taking notes as Professor McGonagall spoke, you didn't appreciate the fact that the only thing that seemed to keep her from full-on molesting you was the fact that you were staring her down.
The sound of chalk being lifted once again, and something being written on the board, told you that your professor was putting up another diagram. You'd need to look away.
Damn.
"If I let you do this, will you at least let me take notes in peace?" You asked, finally. It wasn't worth the situation it would cause.
At your question, the girl gave a few eager nods, smiling widely. You sighed before turning away.
The hand on your thigh quickly went back to work, feeling up and down your leg, even as you tried your best to just ignore it.
Professor McGonagall was now talking again, this time reminding you all of the basics of transfiguration.
"-orcing a magical object-field to accept a new pattern of identity, structure, and function. Rather than creating matter from nothing, the caster temporarily destabilizes the target's existing form and overlays it with an imposed magical template. The more precise the caster's intent, the more stable the transformation, because magic must reconcile the target's original material state with the newly defined one." She paused, taking a breath.
"Human transfiguration is both different and the same from this. All steps remain, however, at the same time you are also now battling against the target's own identity, structure, and magic." She walked towards the other side of the room, where the professor kept a collection of various materials for experimentation.
"It is for this reason that human transfiguration is not often used in combat; if you target resists the spell, even for a moment, it leaves you vulnerable yourself. True use of transfiguration whilst defending oneself, as you will likely learn in your Defense classes, comes from using the environment instead." As she said this, a single flick of her wand had a wooden practice dummy twist into a swarm of birds, which followed her direction, sloshing into a stream of water, which landed with a splash, turning into a lion, which roared, then leapt back into the form of the dummy.
The display was sufficient that it had most of the students in the room in awe.
"Any questions?" She asked, smiling merrily.
Many hands shot up, including your own, and McGonagall took only a few before directing you all to your own individual work.
"I, or Ms. Flamel, will be over to discuss your questions and assignments with you. We will also allow you to practice the spell. If we do not get to you in this class, please keep your papers with you, and I will discuss them with you next time. You will only practice the spell with one of us present."
You would have kept your hand in the air, intent on asking a bit about the homework that had been assigned las class, and whether she had a chance to read your essay yet, but before you could get your hand in the air fully, you sucked in a quick intake of breath, as a cool, soft hand slipped under your waist band, into your pants and underwear entirely.
Turning, you gave her a scathing look, resolving to forever deny the squeak that had escaped you as she quickly, literally, openly fondled you in a crowded classroom.
She smiled back, shivering as she felt along your length.
"Mmph, just as long as I remember." She giggled, shivering as her thighs pressed together.
"Do you mind?" You couldn't help but hiss. It didn't seem to affect her much.
"You said I could." She chimed, happily. Her hand withdraws regardless, slipping out of your pants, and you watch in disgust as she sniffed it, her eyes rolling a bit.
At least she seemed to be done. You turned back to your notes, intent on double-checking your work, before practicing the wand movements, when-
Zip
You felt your pants come undone, fly unzipped, as Eleanor swiftly, with a skill you didn't think possible to develop, slipped your naked cock out of your underwear, when she began, of all things, slowly stroking it under the desk.
This had gone far enough. You turned towards her, intent on telling her off, when.
"Dost thou attend unto thy labors, thou perverse wretch, or dost thou choose instead to idle away thy time in foolish gossip beside an innocent and pure maiden, steeping thyself in sloth?" Isolde Flamel said, from in front of the desk.
You were, in that moment, immensely grateful for the fact that the desk covered your legs, whilst being incredibly regretful that you didn't just decide to skip today.
At the very least, Eleanor seemed to freeze a bit at her sudden appearance as well. At being called an innocent maiden, however…
"Snrk." She covered her mouth with her free hand, her other having frozen around your shaft.
Isolde didn't seem to notice her amusement, the majority of the woman's attention, and ire, directed at you.
Was she still holding a grudge over what happened in the hall?
…
Was that something you could ask about?
Whilst you were lost in your thoughts, without any fanfare, and even though there was a teacher or otherwise related individual directly in front of the two of you, Eleanor Nott seemed to grow impatient. In long, slow strokes, she restarted her work on your cock.
Your frustration seemed to boil over, just a bit, and you reacted.
Ignoring your hardening length, your hand came down, wrapping itself around her wrist, freezing her hand in place.
At the same time, you met Isoldes' eyes, trying to figure out what to say.