Current mood:	sick
Entry tags:	*fic, 2008-01, author: senjy, character: minerva, character: percy, content: crossdressing, content: student/teacher, theme: everything old is new, theme: petticoat discipline

Fic: Deviations on the Path to Success - McGonagall [Percy/McGonagall, NC17]
Title: Deviations on the Path to Success - McGonagall
Author: senjy
Characters: Percy/McGonagall
Rating: NC17
Warnings: Underage (Percy is 15) student/teacher, First time
Themes/kinks chosen: Everything old is new -- Petticoat discipline (March 07)
Word Count: 3250
Summary: McGonagall catches Percy out after curfew and teaches him that not even prefects are beyond a little punishment.
Author's notes: Apologies, because due to snotty RL-ness this was a rushed job and therefore is unbeta-ed. If you wanna pick at it in the comments go ahead. Oh, and yay, I am back with the DD guys!


He caught up to the group of second years just in front of the portrait which would gain them entry to the kitchens. Percy had overheard their plans of a midnight feast earlier in the evening, and had promptly reported what he had heard to the first prefect he had come across. Unfortunately, that prefect had been Cummings, who had called Percy a number of degrading names and told him to mind his own business. It had been then that Percy had realised that it would be up to him to make sure that the rules were observed. He may not be a prefect yet, but he knew that he must be on the list for next year. He would show Cummings just what being a prefect meant.

It was a pity that the second years took Percy about as seriously as Cummings had. It didn't help that Percy's twin brothers were amongst the guilty party.

"Naff off, Percy!" said Fred.

"You're not even a prefect," added George. "If a teacher comes you'll be in as much trouble as the rest of us."

"I am willing to bear the consequences of my actions," Percy told them. "Now, get back up to the tower before we're all caught."

"And what if we don't?" one of the twins' friends asked belligerently.

Percy narrowed his eyes. "Then I will go straight to Professor McGonagall. I don't want to report you, but if you won't return to the tower I have little choice."

There was a pause, and then a snort from Fred. "He would an' all."

"Fine," George groused. "Let's go."

Percy followed the second years back up to Gryffindor tower. He had done his duty as a future prefect, and he smiled to himself as the group of miscreants began climbing back into the common room.

The smile was wiped off his face when the portrait was slammed shut in front of him.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake," he said huffily. "It's not as if I told a teacher on you." He raised his head to give the password to the Fat Lady again, only to find that she was no longer there.

He looked quickly about him, trying to spot her amongst the nearby portraits. She was nowhere to be seen. Gritting his teeth in annoyance he rapped smartly on the canvas in front of him. "Let me in... Fred... George...."

The painting didn't move and Percy thought he could hear the second years laughing in the common room beyond. There was no help for it – he would have to go to McGonagall, after all. With a last huff, Percy turned around and began walking down the corridor to where his head of house's chambers lay.

***

It was with trepidation that Percy stopped in front of McGonagall's door. He was aware that it was very late, and that even with his reasonable explanation, McGonagall was not going to be happy to see him out after curfew. Percy had always admired his head of house's fairness in the way that she treated all the students at Hogwarts – it was unfortunate that in this case it counted against him.

Drawing in a deep breath to buffer his courage, Percy raised his fist and knocked.

The moment between his knock and an answer drew out, making Percy miserably aware that he was probably rousing McGonagall from her bed. He was wondering whether it was better to knock again, or try his luck back at the tower, when the large iron ring twisted and the door opened.

For a moment Percy stared at the woman standing in front of him. Then he blinked, and realised that the shapely figure draped in white satin was Professor McGonagall. As he watched, a tartan-patterned robe was quickly pulled tighter, concealing his professor's surprising nightwear. A pair of spectacles hastily covered doe brown eyes, the lenses rendering them beady once more.

"Mr Weasley!" the Scottish brogue cut in sharply, and the transformation back into Percy's head of house was complete. "What are you doing here? It's well past curfew."

Gathering his wits, Percy managed to stammer out a response. "I'm sorry, Professor McGonagall, but I was locked out. The Fat Lady left her portrait so I couldn't get back into the tower."

McGonagall pursed her lips, and then impatiently gestured for Percy to enter her chambers. She spoke as she closed the door behind them and stoked up the fire with a wave of her wand: "But the fact remains, Mr Weasley, that you had to have been outside after curfew for you to be locked out."

She drew herself up in displeasure in such a familiar way that the apparition who had first opened the door to him was fully driven from Percy's mind.

"I know, Professor, but I can explain," which he did, adding at the end of his tale, "I know I was wrong to go out. This isn't an excuse... just an explanation."

McGonagall's eyes were steadily focused on him, and Percy resisted the urge to squirm. He felt like she was weighing him up in some way.

"Well, Mr Weasley, I am glad that my instinct to make you a prefect next year was a good one. It is obvious that you will carry out those duties to the best of your ability. However, you are not a prefect yet, and you must therefore accept your punishment."

The brief elation at having his ambitious suspicions confirmed deflated, but Percy lifted his chin. "I take full responsibility for my actions and am willing to bear the consequences."

The response to his words shocked him, because McGonagall smiled. Not the tight expression of approval she gave her best students in class. It was a full blown grin, and with her jet black hair hanging about her shoulders, it made her seem suddenly twenty years younger, and to Percy's dismay, not a little attractive. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed heavily, and he forced himself to keep staring at her face and not let his gaze wander down to where the tartan robe had parted slightly, revealing a flash of the white satin beneath.

"That is good to hear, Percy," she said, softly. "And for that I think we can make the punishment a little more enjoyable for us both."

"Professor?"

McGonagall laughed, and Percy was struck by just how womanly the sound was. He wasn't sure if he had ever thought that about anybody's laugh before, but the sound was warm and communicated very clearly to his groin that Professor McGonagall was indeed a woman - an attractive woman, who had fetched something from a heavy oak chest of drawers and was holding it out to him.

Percy took the proffered item automatically, and promptly dropped it again when his fingertips registered the soft brush of silk. He stared down in horror at the garment. It looked a lot like a long vest, but it was deep red in colour and definitely made of silk because it shimmered in the low firelight.

McGonagall was laughing again, and Percy flushed with his embarrassment. Not quite sure if he was doing the right thing, he bent and picked the slip up again.

"Professor...?"

"Put it on, Percy," McGonagall told him. "Consider this your punishment."

"Put it on?"

"You can change in the bathroom if you're shy," McGonagall teased, and Percy's eyebrows shot up towards his hairline. "Come on, Percy. You said that you were willing to bear the consequences of your actions. You roused me from my bed in the middle of the night, and I was having a rather pleasant dream. The least you could do is to make it up to me."

"But I don't understand?" Percy half wailed. He wondered if he should pinch himself. This had to be the most bizarre nightmare he had ever had. Not that it was bad, with McGonagall smiling at him in a way that made his tummy flip over, but it was terrifying. He had never felt so out of his depth before.

"It's quite simple, Percy. Your punishment is to put that on. I think the proper name for it is petticoat discipline. Consider this a chance to learn something."

McGonagall had moved closer as she had spoken, and Percy gulped as she now reached up and placed her hands on his shoulders. She was a little taller than he was, and he stared up at her, blinking rapidly when she removed his glasses.

"It's your choice, Mr Weasley. You can either put the slip on and enjoy what happens next, or you can serve regular detention with Mr Filch next week."

Perhaps it was the way she had gone back to addressing him like she usually did, or the gentle massage her fingers were giving the back of his neck, but Percy suddenly felt comforted, and lot more interested than frightened. He slid the material of the slip through his fingers, considering.

"I think I would like to try this," he whispered.

"Good," McGonagall murmured back. "You know, I don't do this with just any student, Percy. I know that you will be the perfect prefect."

"I'll do my best."

"That's all I ask."

Percy nodded, and smiled tremulously. He was going to ask McGonagall where her bathroom was, but her hands were already easing his robes of his shoulders, revealing the striped pyjamas he was wearing underneath. He decided that as a Gryffindor prefect he would have to be an example to all younger Gryffindors, and that meant being brave in the face of the unknown.

He watched short-sightedly, his chin tucked against his breast bone, as McGonagall unbuttoned his pyjama top, and shivered as the cooler air of the room caressed his skin. With his top gone he moved back from his teacher to pull the silky garment over his head. He hissed in his breath as the material slid over his nipples, which tightened against the strange sensation. Wriggling his hips, he pushed his pyjama bottoms down, and uttered a surprised, 'Oh!' when the material brushed this time against his cock.

"How does it feel?" McGonagall asked him, and he was startled by the reminder that she was in the room. She had stepped back while he had been shimmying out of his pyjama bottoms, and the strange new feel of the silk against his skin had thoroughly distracted him from her presence. He was made very much aware of her again when he noticed that the tartan dressing gown and her spectacles were gone, and as her fingertips skimmed over the silk covering his chest, rubbing gently where his nipples made small peaks in the material. His body moved of its own accord, pushing his chest out, encouraging the rubbing, and he blindly grabbed out for support when she suddenly pinched the nubs and his knees threatened to give way.

Percy found himself pressed up against McGonagall's body, his arms wrapped around and clinging to her shoulders. His breathing sped up as he realised that the soft pressure against his chest was her breasts pushing against him, and he moaned when her hands began smoothing the fabric covering his back, sliding down to cup his buttocks in a way that made his hips jerk forward.

"How does it feel, Percy?" McGonagall repeated.

"G-good!" he stammered.

"Good," McGonagall whispered back, making Percy shiver when her breath tickled his ear. "The colour suits you. You get your hair from your mother – it's a darker red. I always thought that your family couldn't help but be Gryffindor with such beautiful hair."

Percy felt one of McGonagall's hands slide up his back as she talked. Her fingers speared into his hair. It made him feel odd. His mother stroked his hair if he was ill, or if she was getting soppy for some reason, but McGonagall was feeling decidedly un-motherly. In fact, she was feeling very un-teacherly, too. More soft, and warm, and the sweet smell of her skin rolled over his taste buds as he breathed in. As though her scent had beguiled him, like one of Snape's potions, he found himself moving without thought, and his lips brushed against her cheek.

He was shocked by his action, just as he had been shocked by everything McGonagall had done since he had explained his being out after curfew, but just as that, he was finding that he didn't mind it, in fact quite liked it, and he kissed her again, this time on the lips as she had turned her face towards him. The kiss was chaste, just a pressing of sealed lips, but it was more than Percy had ever done with a girl and he moaned quietly.

"It seems you've relaxed a bit," McGonagall said as she pulled away. "That's good. Now, come and have a look at yourself in the mirror."

Percy let himself be pulled in front of the full length mirror tucked into one corner of the room. Without his glasses the image was a bit hazy, softened around the edges but still mostly visible as he was standing a mere foot away. He looked like a girl, he thought, not sure if that worried him or not. He looked like a slim, flat-chested girl, with the cut of the slip making it look like he had curves at his hips. One of the sleeves had slipped from his freckled shoulder, and kissing McGonagall had warmed and slightly flushed his lips. He realised even his hair was girlish. While it was short, he had indeed inherited his mother's hair, so it was curly, and without his boy's clothing and horn-rimmed spectacles, it looked like it may have been styled and set.

"What do you think?" McGonagall asked.

"I'm not sure," Percy replied honestly, sliding his hands down his sides and turning. He did enjoy the feel of the material against his skin. He closed his eyes and savoured the stroke of the silk.

"I think you like it, Percy. Not much of a punishment."

Percy shook his head, keeping his eyes closed. "Will I have to serve detention with Mr Filch?"

"No. You just have to be yourself, Percy - brave, intelligent... and discreet."

McGonagall's hands were on him again and Percy gasped, leaning back into her embrace. Her fingers teased at his nipples again, making the silk rub across them, making the silk rustle against his cock as it hardened in reaction to her touch. With his eyes closed there was no reminder that the woman now touching him was his teacher, and with the blood beginning to pound in his ears he was unable to listen too carefully to the small voice that recognised how many rules and laws were at this moment being broken.

"I always had a thing for red heads," McGonagall confessed hotly against his neck, and Percy moaned when her teeth nipped the tendons there.

"P-Professor!" he yelled, when one of her hands dropped to his groin. The silk rubbing against his erection was sinfully good, and Percy let out the last of his doubts with his ragged moan.

He didn't care if this was 'technically' wrong. He had broken the rules when he had followed the second years because he had known it the right thing to do, and this felt so very right, so very good.

"I think you have a thing for silk, Mr Weasley. You look gorgeous. Open your eyes. Look at yourself."

He looked less of a girl with his erection tenting and dampening the silk. He was leaning back against McGonagall, arms bent back to hold her, opening his body up to the mirror and their reflected gazes. He didn't recognise himself, and he loved it.

He loved it more when McGonagall roughly turned him around and kissed him. This time the embrace was passionate, and Percy quickly parted his lips, allowing her tongue into his mouth and flicking his own eagerly against it, tasting a lover for the first time. He poured himself into the kiss, closing his eyes again, ignoring everything else.

It was because of this that the back of his legs hitting the bed startled him. McGonagall broke off the kiss and shoved him backwards so that he toppled onto the mattress. His arms reached up, begging for her to join him, desperate for more kisses. He whimpered gratefully when she covered his body with her own. Even her weight was arousing. He relished the crush against his skinny ribcage, and the way that their movements rubbed the silk up and down his body.

"Please," he found himself begging, though he wasn't sure what more she would give. He just wanted something, anything else that she would be willing to teach him. His balls felt full and heavy, and he cried out when his cock, suddenly free of his slip, rubbed between her thighs.

"Oh, Merlin!" he swore, his voice cracking on the shout.

"Is this your first time, Percy?" McGonagall asked him, her brogue turned to a husky drawl. "This is a first for me, too."

Percy gaped at her, his eyes finding hers. She was laughing at him. "Not like that. This is the first time that I ever did anything with a student," she explained. "Do you realise how special you are, Percy? Perfect... Prefect... Percy."

It was something his younger brothers had spat at him in annoyance in the past, but coming from McGonagall while she told him how special he was, Percy glowed with happiness. His body was flushed from his chest to his forehead, his lips swollen and red from their more hungry kisses.

"Red all over," McGonagall observed, and laughed once again. Percy blushed harder when he followed her gaze, down between their bodies, and saw his erection, which seemed to be straining towards its goal.

McGonagall had retrieved her wand from somewhere and cast a spell Percy didn't recognise. McGonagall's skin seemed to glow for a moment, and then she threw aside her wand and moved to straddle him.

Percy nearly came when McGonagall wrapped her fingers around his cock, and sweat broke out on his forehead at the first touch of his tip against her moist warmth. He bellowed inarticulately as that warmth spread down and around him, bringing with it such brilliant pressure that his fingernails cut semi-circles into his palms. McGonagall was bracing her hands against his wrists, pinning his hands beside his head. He could hear her throaty breathing above the heavy pounding of his heart, and then another shout broke from his own throat as the experience undid him completely.

He didn't think he had ever come as hard or as long as he did then, and all through it McGonagall was still rocking back and forth, milking his orgasm as she finally tipped over into her own.

Percy lay on the bed, arms outstretched and legs still dangling off the edge of the mattress. He didn't notice McGonagall climbing off him, but she was lying beside him when she began brushing the damp curls from his forehead.

"Quicker than I'm used to," she mused, "but I seemed to be more than ready, too."

"Do – Do I have to go back to Gryffindor tower?" Percy panted.

"In a little while, Mr Weasley," McGonagall replied. "You bore your punishment like a true Gryffindor."

"Professor, I know that this was a punishment, but could I possibly... Could I keep the nightdress?"

"Of course, Mr Weasley. Red is definitely your colour."


Fin