hii, entering my senior year I've been going insane over school so I was wondering if you could do an academic-sensitive reader that has a really tough time on DADA because that year had an incompetent or awful teacher? with Remus or moonwater since they'd also get frustrated with the professor (plus points if they were all doing good in previous years, this year was just a lockhart or umbridge situation) It's super understandable if this isn't doable, thank you either way ♥️
Unqualified
poly!moonwater x reader 2.7k
summary: after the new professor sets on humiliating you, defense against the dark arts becomes a nightmare. when you break down after class, regulus and remus find you and decide they’re going to make sure you never doubt yourself again.
warnings: horrible professor, accusatory comments, verbal humiliation, crying, protective remus and regulus, hurt/comfort.
a/n: this is so choppy, sorry anon </3 not proofread!
Some professors were truly the most unqualified, shit-ass, bloody teachers to ever step foot in Hogwarts and you meant that with your entire chest.
It wasn’t just that Professor Wilkes was a terrible teacher, with his monotone voice and confusing explanations. His thinly veiled, shady comments about werewolves, which left Remus tense and silent, only made him more unbearable.
But it was more than that. He seemed to take a particular delight in humiliating you.
Maybe he didn’t like how outspoken you were in class, or how you never backed down when he tried to assert his superiority. Perhaps he simply took pleasure in belittling others, a bitter soul who thrived on cruelty.
Whatever it was, today was no different.
The class had finally ended. Students shuffled toward the door in tired, aimless waves, murmuring to one another, their movements sluggish. You exhaled softly, thinking you had survived yet another of his lectures unscathed, only to hear your name cut sharply through the stale classroom air.
You froze, your chest tightening as all the conversation around you dissolved into silence. His eyes bore into yours like an accusation.
"Miss (Y/L/N)," he began, voice loud and deliberate, carrying over the shuffling and chatter as students packed up their things, "it seems you have once again submitted work that is, shall we say, not your own. Tell me, did you actually write this essay yourself, or was it borrowed from someone more competent?"
Your stomach knotted. The words felt like cold steel against your skin, loud enough for the remaining students to hear. Your cheeks burned and your hands curled into fists at your sides. You opened your mouth, ready to defend yourself, heart pounding.
"Professor Wilkes," you said, voice steady though your throat felt tight, "I wrote it myself. Every word. I researched every source and cited everything correctly. I—"
He cut you off, a thin smile twisting his lips into something mocking. "You expect me to believe that? Hours of effort, and yet the quality is so poor it can hardly be distinguished from a rushed forgery. I would almost applaud your audacity if it were not so laughably inadequate."
You blinked, refusing to let the sting of his words silence you. "I did not steal it! I worked hard! Every paragraph is mine!"
He leaned back slightly, the picture of condescension, and let out a soft, derisive chuckle. "Hard work is no substitute for talent, and audacity will not cover incompetence. Perhaps you are too naive to understand that your so-called diligence is nothing compared to the actual skill required here. Some of you will never rise beyond your limits, no matter how much you toil."
The words landed like stones in your stomach, heavy and suffocating. You felt a tremor in your hands, your vision blurring with tears you had fought to suppress.
This was not the first time he had humiliated you, and you knew it would not be the last. You had always been resilient, used to challenges, but his cruelty carried a weight that made your chest ache and your mind reel.
You took a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself as you clenched your jaw. "I am not incapable," you whispered, though your voice cracked. "I can improve. I will improve."
He regarded you with a detached gaze, as if you were already beneath his notice, and then, without another word, turned and strode from the room.
The empty classroom seemed to close in around you, the echo of his insults lingering like smoke.
The tears came fast and hot, falling down your cheeks before you could stop them. You weren’t the kind of person to cry easily. You could handle a lot. But being singled out like that, shamed for your writing and accused of stealing it in front of everyone, spoken to like you were worthless — it cut deeper than you expected.
You knew you should wipe your face, gather your things, and leave.
You knew Remus and Regulus were probably already on their way, waiting outside to walk you to your next class or sneak you off to the library like they always did when you were having a bad day. But you couldn’t move. The tears wouldn’t stop, and the humiliation was still sitting in your chest like a stone.
So you sat there, alone in the classroom, shoulders shaking as you cried into your hands.
You fucking hate him so much. You really, really do. But it’s no use crying over him now.
You wipe your cheeks with your sleeves, trying to catch your breath and swallow the hiccups bubbling up.
You shove your quill and ink back into your bag with shaking hands, clutching your parchment to your chest like it can somehow stitch the pieces of your heart back together. Just as you're about to walk out of the classroom and leave this entire humiliation behind you, the door creaks open.
Regulus steps inside—calm, composed, and stoic as ever—but the second his eyes land on you, his expression crumbles. His frown deepens, sharp and immediate.
Without a word, he drops his bag onto a desk and rushes over, concern breaking through every part of his carefully built façade.
You don't hesitate.
You rush forward and crash into him, burying yourself into his chest like it's the only place left that makes sense. His arms wrap tightly around you on instinct, protectively, as if he could shield you from whatever hurt you.
The moment you press your face into his robes and sob without restraint, he stiffens slightly, then softens with worry, gently rocking you.
“Mon amour,” he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper. “What happened? What is this? Why all these tears, hm?”
You shake your head against him, trying to talk, but it just comes out in hiccuped fragments. Regulus tries to tilt your chin up, but you only push your face deeper into his chest.
He exhales slowly and nudges you back a little, his hands warm as they cradle your cheeks, thumbs wiping your tears.
“Hey. Hey, look at me,” he says softly. “Tell me what happened. Please.”
“It’s—” your voice breaks, and you clutch his wrist, grounding yourself. “It’s Professor Wilkes. He—he said I was stupid. He embarrassed me in front of everyone and I—I didn’t even do anything wrong. I tried. I really tried and he thinks I steal my work and—”
The door bangs open again.
This time, it’s Remus.
Worried doesn’t even begin to describe the look on his face. His eyes dart between you and Regulus, scanning your tear-streaked cheeks, trembling shoulders, and the tight quiver of your lips. He crosses the room in seconds, hands already reaching for you as his voice rushes out in pieces.
“Dovey, what happened? Are you hurt? Who—what—what’s going on?”
You bury your face in Regulus’s chest again, muffling a sob, but your body shakes with something heavier than sadness. Remus moves in, gently tugging you from Regulus’s hold and wrapping you in his arms.
His warmth presses against your skin, steadying, grounding, like a tether to reality, but your chest heaves too hard, too fast, and the fury beneath the tears begins to stir.
You take a shuddering breath, trying to let the grief subside, but it only feeds the frustration that has been building over weeks. Every humiliated glance, every belittling comment from Wilkes, every night spent pouring over notes only to feel invisible—it all surfaces at once. Your hands clench into fists at your sides, nails digging into your palms as the tears continue to flow.
“It’s not fair,” you whisper, voice breaking but trembling with something sharper now. “I try. I work. I study. And he… he just—he treats me like I’m nothing. Like I’m not even trying. Like everything I do is worthless.”
Regulus’s hand brushes against yours, a silent plea for patience, but it does nothing to calm the storm raging inside you. Your sobs turn harsher, voice catching with each word, and finally the tears bleed into anger, spilling over in a rush of sharp, jagged breaths.
“I’m done with him!” you yell, the words shattering the quiet of the room. “I am so done being the idiot he sneers at, the punching bag Wilkes drags out whenever he gets bored! I’m done pretending I understand when I don’t! I’m done sitting there while everyone else—everyone else—zooms past me like it’s effortless!”
“Love—” Remus starts, cautious, but you spin on him, eyes blazing and hands trembling with intensity.
“No! Don’t! Don’t give me some calm, reasoned speech. I already know what you’re going to say. ‘It’s just one assignment.’ ‘He’s a terrible professor anyway.’ ‘Let’s prank him.’ I don’t want jokes. I want him fired. I want him humiliated. I want him to regret ever speaking to me in that tone!”
Regulus exhales behind you, slow and measured, and you whip around to face him, voice raw, cracked, every syllable weighted with both sorrow and anger.
Your hands shake as your rage spikes again. “He had the audacity to say my essay was copied from someone else!”
“Hey, hey,” Remus says, stepping toward you, warm hands on your shoulders, steadying. “Love, slow down. Don’t let him get in your head like this.”
You shake your head wildly, voice rising again, cracked and furious. “Don’t call me that like it’s going to fix this. Nothing’s going to fix this! I’m just some stupid girl who got lucky with a wand and unlucky with a brain.”
“That’s not true,” Regulus cuts in sharply. “Don’t say that.”
You laugh bitterly, stepping away from both of them. “It’s not a joke. I’m failing. I’m failing and it’s humiliating and my dad is going to think I’m wasting everything and—”
“Stop.” Remus’s voice is firm but kind, the kind that doesn’t scold, just grounds you. “Stop running laps in your own mind, love.”
Your lips tremble, and you glance between them, eyes glassy. “I just… I feel so small. Like I’m incapable of doing anything right.”
“Don’t say that, ma belle,” Regulus murmurs, stepping closer, voice soft but steady. “You are never small. You are clever, you are capable, and no one, not even that insufferable professor, will convince us otherwise.”
Remus steps closer, hands cupping your face gently, thumbs brushing over your cheeks. “Look at me,” he says softly. “You are extraordinary, and anyone who tries to make you feel less than that is not worth your time. We will help you, and we will not let this diminish you.”
You glance down, chest tight. “I don’t want to bother you,” you whisper. “You both have your own work.”
Regulus shakes his head, calm but firm. “You’re not a bother, ma belle. Honestly, we’ve got good grades already. Helping you won’t slow us down.”
Remus leans closer, steady and warm, his voice a gentle anchor. “Tonight, after dinner, if you want. Bring all your notes, we’ll go through everything together, slowly. You will see, everything will be alright.”
Your throat tightens and a small sob escapes, eyes darting towards Regulus. “You really mean that too?”
“Of course, amour,” Regulus says, a soft smile tugging at his lips, fingers brushing lightly through your hair.
“We will not leave you to struggle alone. And it is not just about the grades—you will feel better knowing we are here, by your side.”
Remus squeezes your face gently, thumbs brushing over your jawline. “We have you, dovey. No one will make you feel alone in this.”
You shake, tears spilling down your cheeks, and without thinking you lean forward, burying your face into Regulus’s chest, once again.
He wraps his arms around you immediately, holding you tightly, murmuring soft reassurances into your hair. He then leans down and presses a soft kiss to your temple.
You blink up at him, lips parting, but before you can say anything, Remus is already reaching out with both arms open, smiling in that gentle way that always manages to undo you. “Come here. Give me a hug, baby.”
You step into him without hesitation. His arms close around you, grounding, steady. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling the scent of parchment and honeyed tea.
When you finally pull back, you smile—small, sheepish, still rimmed with tears. “I am sorry for crying like that,” you whisper, voice tinged with shame. “It was really stupid.”
But Regulus cuts you off immediately. “Non, non, amour,” he says, brow furrowing slightly as he cups your cheek, his thumb brushing away a lingering tear. “What did I tell you about apologising for crying, hm? None of that.”
You let out a soft giggle, nose wrinkling as you nod. “Yeah. Right.”
“Exactly,” Remus says, brushing your hair back with a fond, patient look. “Crying does not make you weak. It makes you human.”
“Quite a magnificent human at that,” Regulus adds, matter-of-fact and tender all at once. He leans closer, tilting your chin up gently, his lips brushing your forehead before moving to wipe your teary cheeks with deliberate care. “Besides, you are my baby. You can cry to me as much as you want.”
You swat his chest playfully. “Hey! I am not a crybaby!”
He chuckles softly, leaning in again, pressing a gentle kiss just under your eyes. Between kisses, he murmurs, “Ma douce et sensible fille… toujours magnifique.” You can’t help the giggle that escapes, light and unrestrained.
“Come on,” he says after a moment, pulling back with a faint smile. “Off you go to Remus.”
Remus immediately envelops you in a warm embrace, steady and grounding. You nuzzle against his chest, sighing softly. “Where are you going?”
Regulus presses a lingering kiss to your temple. “I’ve got something to deal with, ma belle. But I will be back in an hour, and I promise… we will tutor together, all three of us.”
He leans over and presses a soft kiss to Remus’ temple, whispering, “Take care of her. I’ll go deal with it.”
You stiffen slightly in Remus’ embrace, a flicker of confusion passing through your mind—take care of what, exactly?—but you don’t voice it.
As you watch Regulus leave the classroom, a small knot of worry forms in your chest, though you cling to Remus’ warmth.
“Come on,” Remus says, snapping you out of your thoughts while guiding you back toward the sitting area. “Let’s go rest for a bit.”
“Yeah,” you murmur, voice heavy with fatigue. “I think I need a nap… until Reggie comes back.” You pause, blinking up at him. “Wait… where did he say he was going?”
Remus brushes a strand of hair from your face, his touch soothing. “Don’t worry about it, love. He’s probably dealing with something… important.”
You nod, letting yourself be led away, leaning against him as you finally feel relief wash over you.
Unbeknownst to you, Regulus was off making sure Professor Wilkes would never bother you again. After all, he and Remus could not bear the sight of their sweet girl crying.
