Hello there! This is my first Fanfiction, and I have a niche for Teacher/Student scenarios, so I decided to put this little thing together. I have no idea where I'm going with this, but my plan is to have fun on the way.

This /is/ AU. But: If there are any large flaws regarding characterization, don't hesitate to speak up. I would greatly appreciate reviews so I can get an idea of how I'm doing.

I know that in the books Clarice attends the University of Virginia, but I imagine that Hannibal would most likely work at a college like Princeton. So… That's where he works in this story.

After watching all of the movies and getting a general feel of how Clarice and Hannibal work, I figured it would be extremely out of character to jump right into lovey-dovey/lemon work between the two. I'd like their relationship to develop over time. Be patient, dear readers! As they say, "All good things come to those who wait."

Disclaimer: This is AU and I own no characters, actors, or the University Princeton. (Though I'd love to.) There may be an occasional OC, but they won't alter the plot- I can assure you.

Ps: It'll start out slow, yes. That said, I'd really like to focus on characterization before plunging all the way in. The date, by the way, (assuming Clarice was about 22 in Silence of the Lambs) is as if she is 20 in this story. Just letting you all know!

Please rate and review if you'd get the chance.

Bon appetite

- L

((Flash Forward))

"You love me, I know you do." The woman's lustrous words caressed his ears like the finest of silk, leaving a sonorous note in the air. She sat upright in the leather seat, her eyes gazing into the Doctor's. As a result of the years of social training that Hannibal has taught his Clarice, she has successfully learned how to maintain eye contact and keep her words—for the most part—steady.

The aged man simply looked into her eyes, maroon piercing through clear blue, his head slightly tilted to one side. A veil of unemotional placidity was draped over his face, her comment sparking absolutely no nerve endings inside of him.

"My dear Clarice, you already know the answer. I shan't elaborate on such an exhausted subject."

"You've taught me so much, Doctor. I… There's no other explanation," she exhaled and continued as if alone reversing lines to herself. "You value your time too much to teach me such a large amount of information and yet…to not be piqued by me. It doesn't add up."

Doctor Lecter couldn't help but emit a faint chuckle, amused by her audacity.

"Don't expect, Clarice. That will only leave you unsatisfied."

((Present Time))

June 1st, 1989

The humid morning of June hung around Clarice like a silk shawl as she strode to Psychology, the final examination of the year being set for that class—which started in approximately ten minutes. By the time that she reached her classroom, her hair had gained a fair amount of volume due to the thick breeze, the chocolate brown locks ever so slightly fluffed. Her khaki shorts and forest green polo complimented each other, though not on purpose. The weather was treacherously muggy and whether or not her choice of attire was fashionable or not, it ranked low on her priorities. In seconds, the moderately windblown student arrived at her first class of the day: Developmental Psychology.

"Mornin,' Doctor Lecter," Clarice breathed with a nod toward her professor as she breezed into the classroom, her accent drawling the simple words before taking a seat at her desk which was in the front row.

The statuesque professor lifted his gaze upon hearing the door shut to reward his student with a hint of a smile, his normally raspy voice like velvet as he graded essays at his mahogany desk.

"Good morning, Ms. Starling."

The next few minutes that Clarice had before the majority of the class sauntered in were spent studying material that would most likely be on the exam. The past semester had, for the most part, been composed of how one would get inside the mind of their patient who had been through severe trauma. The subject chilled Clarice to the bone due to her own childhood experience, but it worked out to her advantage because she had a lead that the other students didn't when it came to knowledge on the subject.

Though, ever since taking the class, it had no avail when it came to her screaming lambs.

The test would be composed seventy five multiple choice questions, twenty five fill-in-the-blanks, and an essay explaining what one had learned during the year. For a top student like herself, she didn't fret about what the grade would turn out to be.

Doctor Lecter had always been a strict teacher according to the majority of his students, and so called 'mean' according to the not-so-focused students. For Clarice, he was no different than any of her other teachers. (Excluding the deep shade of maroon that swirled in his irises, looking like a heterogeneous mixture of blood and flowing lava. That made him stand out.)

The clock struck seven thirty am and by then all of the students were seated, their binders and notepad on their desks accompanied by a freshly sharpened pencil in anticipation for the test. Low whispers could be heard of students worrying about their grade or knowledge base. After all, this was the last test of the year and it determined seventy percent of one's grade.

Hannibal paced the platform in the front of his classroom, a classic-fit Roberto Cavalli suit along with his slicked back hair, going over the general rules of test taking and the punishments for those who fail to follow. A few students couldn't contain their grins when their professor spoke of punishments, considering his piercing eyes which they all talked about; yet were secretly scared that he held some sort of power over them. (Little did they know of what he was capable of.) He shot a glance in the immature students' direction, and after a few seconds of spine chilling silence, went on with his lecture as if nothing had happened.

Clarice breezed through the multiple choice and fill-in section as if it were simple arithmetic. Although, when she reached the essay, her confidence soon faltered, finding it challenging to insert a persuasive element. She was far from a vein person; but in her future field of work, it would be a rarity to stumble upon such an aesthetically pleasing specimen as she, so she tended to rely on her looks-despite her insecurities-to persuade people. Point being, the essay was definitely a struggle. Forty five minutes passed and all that she had were the bare facts; the structure of the essay, not the meat of it. Her explanations were on tee and had no mistakes, but she needed to convince Doctor Lecter of what she had learned and how his class impacted her learning career.

By the time she reluctantly finished her essay, the testing time was over. The class handed in their papers and left class after being dismissed, all fretting about their scores.

That evening, presumably after Doctor Lecter began grading exams, Clarice received an email from her professor.

Ms. Starling,

Only a few moments ago I graded the class' essays and I must say, I'm very pleased with your results, Clarice.

It's a shame that you couldn't explain how my class has or has not impacted your learning career. I was expecting more persuasion from a student like you.

That being said, I would recommend you to come to my classroom after the last bell tomorrow so that we may discuss your writing techniques.

Regards,

Doctor Hannibal Lecter, Ph.D.
Psychology Professor, Princeton University

End Chapter 1