[SilentFeather]

Harry went about his remainder of night, and the days following of  were mundane without his beloved Professor in his existence  He wished he was loved by the man that his body feared but his heart craved, even enduring all forms of abuse and beyond, just for the ultimate chance to be touched by him.

It was the absolute thrill, but also the most soul-crushing, and his Professor was a smart mouthed, silver-tongued sly heart-throb as much as a heart-breaker. But he would go through flames of hellfire and the trenches of no-man's-land just to be touched by such a smoky hard-to-get man like him.

And that was what he was doing.

He did the very same, only rubbing himself to the image of fantasy within his mind. His mind tended to be quite like that of a butterfly, always jittery, always craving Renzo the professor to lift him up, even in times of being ignored and disregarded he remained feeling that way.

- - - - -

Connie had felt rather neglected ever since his Professor had kept distance from him. He wished to remain a friend of his, even though he knew that he was good inside, he kept blaming himself for the separation between pupil and teacher.

One morning, as he was in usual "perfect attendance" he noticed the presence of a new male who had arrived from a nearby school, innocently remaining silent as a mouse through the whole entire lecture. All the young lads were swooning over him but not Connie, no Connie was fixated on his studies, not elsewhere, but there was a part, a miniscule piece of him that wished for the Professor to be the one lecturing him that day.

And through it all Connie tuned in, absorbing all, and keeping his thoughts, those of budding curiosity inward, and to himself but was still focused. After the official dismissal, Connie went to depart, his pitch-black, lower white-striped and short upper thigh length skirt ruffling silently with movement as he turned to leave, dark dark onyx brown eyes lowered to the floor but when he spotted his Professor's presence he brightened from his depressive state of facial emotion, smiling wide with eyes as bright as the first lights of the sun, in other words he was filled with true bliss, extremely, extremely so.

"I am a good boy, I have been Professor, Professor, I swear I am. Sex? Is sex a punishment? Professor Renzo?" He said softly, whimpering silently but yet still diligently obeying, following close after his teacher from the other just as focused, motivated pupils and into a more suitably empty section of the school's farthest classroom.

"Are you sure I am not a bad boy, Sir?" He asked worriedly, his voice soft, feeble, as if it were a carefully carried china glass. "I have been keeping my cellphone off until after school."