Entry tags:

2011 fic

Filius Flitwick in a Hogwarts Classroom with a Feather
Title: Cherished Memories
Author: eeore9990
Character: Filius Flitwick
Location: Classroom
Prop: Feather
Other Characters: none
Rating: R
Warnings: none
Word Count: ~1100
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Author's Notes: For r_grayjoy, because she just really loves Flitwick.

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Filius smoothed the palm of his hand over the centuries-old doorknob, thrilling at the way the battered brass scratched along his sensitive flesh even as anticipation swirled in his belly. He forced himself to wait, letting it build until he nearly vibrated with the tension it created inside him. Wrapping his fingers around the knob, he gave it a twist. The door swung open with a suddenness that startled a squeak out of him.

With quick, light steps, he rushed into the room and took a moment to absorb it all. The precision of the desks arranged in their perfect lines—which would be ruined the moment the first child entered the room—the nearly non-existent smell of chalk dust that would coat every surface in the room after the first week, the pillows for practical spell-work, and the feathers for the charms that required a more delicate touch.

Filius shut the door behind himself; even after all these years, the thought of a fellow Professor spying upon him during these precious moments while he reacquainted himself with his classroom was… positively dreadful. He moved down the main aisle, stopping to touch a desk here and admire the play of light on a window there.

He loved the sense of discovery and accomplishment that came with a classroom full of bright, inquisitive students learning about the power concealed in their youthful bodies, but he wouldn't trade these quiet moments for anything. He needed this time with his classroom. Needed to reconnect with that spark inside himself that had first stoked a burning desire within him to teach.

It seemed so long ago now, the day he'd approached Headmaster Dippet about the vacancy in the Charms department. But he could remember every second of every day spent inside this classroom from that moment to this. And he cherished every one of them.

Finally reaching the desk that stood proudly at the front of the room, Filius moved forward until the edge bit into his stomach. With a fond smile, he leaned all the way over until his cheek was pressed to the top, his arms outstretched, embracing the beloved piece of furniture. Rubbing the tips of his fingers over the barely perceptible grain of the wood, Filius drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"I've missed you," he murmured, smiling to himself at how the room held onto his words for just a moment before releasing them back to him in a whisper so faint, it no longer bore the same cadence as his normal speaking voice. As if it were the room itself echoing his heart-felt sentiment.

Pushing up from the desk, Filius walked around it, unable to resist trailing his fingers over its surface. When he reached his chair, he took a turn around it, inspecting it for any new scratches in the leather, any changes that would point to an interloper trespassing on his territory. Perhaps it was odd to others, but Filius didn't care. This was his chair, and he'd spent too many hours having it lovingly caress his bum not to feel at lest partially proprietary over it.

When he was certain his chair had not suffered defilement at the hands of an interloper, he pulled his wand from his pocket and levitated himself into the air until he could seat himself easily. He'd never asked for allowances to be made for his diminutive height, and his classroom was testimony to that. After all, the world wasn't going to suddenly shrink just because he wasn't tall enough to reach the things in it, was it?

So instead of asking for allowances to be made for him, he'd sought ways to use magic to gain the advantage others took for granted. Levitating wasn't difficult, merely draining over an extended period of time. He'd even taught others how to do it, though most lacked the sort of focus it required.

Shaking himself out of his musings, Filius settled into his chair with a sound of one coming home. Satisfaction flooded him, and the anticipation that had been building within released with a suddenness that made him temporarily light-headed before that tension returned with a rush to his groin. Filius squirmed in his seat, fingers clenching around the wand in his hand as the familiar side-effect of reconnecting with his room washed over him.

He was a kinky devil; he must be for this reaction to overwhelm him when he first re-entered his classroom before the start of every school year.

With the ease of habit, he swished his wand and summoned one of the practice feathers to himself. Allowing the feather to float in the air, he made quick work of his trousers and pants, pushing both to mid-thigh and in the process freeing his cock to the warm air that circulated in the room.

Closing his eyes, he sank deeper into the loving embrace of his chair, the feather a negative image behind his eyelids. With the barest wiggle of his fingers, the feather dropped down into his lap, tracing lightly over his rigid cock. Letting go of all sense of decency, Filius began to rock his hips, forcing his cock against the feather over and over until the nearly non-existent touches drove him spare. Slashing his wand though the air in a movement reminiscent of his dueling days, Filius sent the feather flying away. When it hit the ground, it disappeared in a shower of sparks and the acrid stench of burnt feather, but Filius was too far gone to pay it any attention.

His hand was already wrapped around his cock, tugging and squeezing as he raced himself toward the finish. Falling sideways in the chair, he stretched out, his head thrown over one arm, his knees over the other as he fucked his hand. While others probably pictured significant others while caught up in the art of self- pleasure, Filius intentionally kept his mind blank. Images could only distract him from the sensations ricocheting through his body.

His toes curled inside his shoes, his eyes rolled behind their lids, and his stomach began to tense as his orgasm built within. One last twist and squeeze and he released with a ragged yelp. His come began to pulse up and over his fingers, dropping down onto his wrist and forearm as he continued to milk his cock through the last feeble twitch of his orgasm.

Slumping against the seat in sated bliss, he brought his hand to his mouth and began to slowly lick his come from his skin. A part of him wanted to rub it into the leather of his chair, to show his appreciation, but he knew better. Semen wasn't noted for it's leather polishing properties, after all.

Pity.