Professor Lupin Novels & Stories

Having to stop him, I lunged forward and slammed myself in front of the door, blocking it with my entire body. “Stop.” Louis screeched to a halt. “Mila? What are you doing? Move! This is critical evidence!” “Do you have a death wish?” I lowered my voice, my face heavy with grief. “The Professor… is crying inside.” Vampires were pale by nature, but Louis somehow turned even whiter. He said, “You’re telling me the future werewolf king, who once ripped apart three lone werewolves with his bare hands, is crying? Are you insane, or am I hallucinating?”

he gives back my pen and responds with his adorable boxy smile, and I retrieve my pen to continue to work peacefully. I try to solve all the calculation but ends up struggling with my work and not knowing what to write. "do you need my help?" professor's voice passes through my eyes. He bends over me and one hand gets placed on the back of my chair. I feel it touching me and he's now almost guarding my figure by putting his other hand next to my right hand. I don't like this tension, he's too close to me and I can smell his arousing male fragrance which is making me remember that one night's memories, his touch, his face, his voice, everything about that night.

All of my students loved me, and seemed to love my teachings. When the first year ended and the second year began, I was not prepared for the influx of young girls, students, throwing themselves at me. I was disgusted. It's an unspoken tradition at this school that every professor would end up sleeping with a student by the end of their second year teaching. That didn't happen with me. The students we have here, or at least the ones I end up teaching, are all spoiled rich kids. The girls are bratty, and not in the way I like.

Daffodil felt a warmth enter her body at the friendly expression of the man. She waited for him to walk over. “Hello. Would you like some help? We’re yet to get someone to take over responsibility of the library. I’m Professor Theodore.” Daffodil blinked and fumbled with the sleeve of her shirt, hoping her Dream Acorn stayed hidden. He didn’t show any traces of Half-Myth up close except his scent and Daffodil wondered if she was confusing herself. The professor’s gaze shifted down to her fumbling hands and then back to her face.

Again the children sat extremely quietly at their desks. This is how they used to sit at maths time, which many professors avoided teaching to the children and which was then taught by none other than ... Professor Knudlac. “Julian Southwood, please tell me how you find out what it means ...” The professor read a recipe. “What does it mean: 4 measures of beetle powder and 2 and a half times more ... juice of Dionaea Muscipulatore Grande? A carnivorous plant,” explained the professor to the children, poking his nose out of the book.

Tall, pale, and dressed in an immaculate suit, he looked like he’d stepped out of a Victorian painting. "Good morning," he said, his voice smooth as aged whiskey. "I am Professor Laurent. While I may not practice witchcraft, I have spent centuries studying its many forms. And so, you will learn from me." Rita slid into a seat, pulling out her notebook— And then he walked in. The shorthaired wolf from last night. He moved with deliberate calm, his shoulders tense as he scanned the room. When his eyes landed on her, something flickered in his gaze—something hungry.

She had not meant to be so vulgar but the memory had come to her so suddenly. “I would not say it like that,” the professor said, dipping a hand in his pocket. “Sex was a form of worship for those devotees.” He was staring in her eyes again now, and all the feelings that had taken backstage for the past few minutes came alive again. He produced a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and raised it to her face. She plucked a stick from the bunch, without breaking their gaze. The Professor slipped one out too, and raised a lighter between them.

I almost smiled at him but I caught myself before I could do that. “As I was saying, before I was interrupted," the man started, staring directly at me, “my ways of teaching are quite different from anything you're used to. I tend to get.. intense, at times. For those who just joined us, my name is Professor Matthews and I would be taking you Advanced Literature. Brace yourselves, guys, because there is no room for slackers in any class of mine.” All through his teaching, I was unable to take my eyes off of him. He had a way of capturing people's attention and he could have had mine all day without any interruption.

'Your admirer,' I thought, the words screaming in my head. The person whose world narrows to the sound of your voice. I bit the inside of my cheek, hard. Be careful, I warned myself. “You’re my professor?” I muttered, making it a question, sounding feeble even to myself. “Am I?” he countered, not missing a beat, as he opened the laptop in front of him, the screen flaring to life and illuminating the sharp planes of his face in the dim room. And then I knew, It was a dismissal.

My skin prickled as I ran my fingers over the shapes that seemed to shift under my touch, curling lines that almost resembled claws. “Professor,” someone called. “What’s that?” We all gathered near a large stone slab, half-buried in the ground. It was carved with an emblem, a circle of jagged teeth surrounding the silhouette of something lupine-lycanthrope thing. A wolf? Its eyes hollow, its mouth open wide as though caught mid-howl. “Local legends,” Stephan began carefully, “describe this place as home to creatures not quite human. Some believe it was where they lived… or where they were worshipped.”