... surprise? 

Did I have this written up for the past few days? Yes. Did I wait until today, the 12th, to post it so I wasn't a liar? Also yes.

This is the first one shot I've managed to complete in YEARS, and it's not completely up to scratch but I hope it's decent, at least. I'm slowly getting back into the swing of writing but I won't lie, I don't think I'll be posting quite as frequently as I used to. Sadly, adult life doesn't make writing easy. 

This one was requested by kkylajjones, sorry for the ridiculously long wait

Now, my lovely fawns, please enjoy this not so short story about Professor Potter. Please leave plenty of comments, they feed the struggling writer in me ~

____________________

The castle hadn't changed - which made sense considering just how old it was.

If it hadn't changed in all the hundreds of years it had been standing, then how could I have expected it to change in the five years since I'd left its halls as a graduated seventh year, just one year after it had been broken into pieces the year before. It remained the same and yet, as I stood in the entrance hall, returning for the first time, now as s a Professor, something felt different. On some level, I'd expected to feel like I was coming home, but my time away had changed that. It didn't feel like coming home, but like coming back to a favourite place.

"Miss Jones?" The call of my name took me back years, back to a Transfiguration classroom with Professor McGonagall calling on me to answer a question. The very same woman was approaching me now with a wisened smile and the same knowing look. "Welcome back."

"Thank you, Professor," I said, meeting her halfway. Her approach had stopped my appraisal of the hallways.

"I apologise for making you wait," she started, turning around and beginning to escort me further into the school. Briefly, I wondered where we were headed but I followed her regardless. "There were some logistics issues I needed to work out before welcoming you."

"It's fine, Professor." I hurriedly corrected myself, "Headmistress."

McGonagall's smile widened just a little at my abrupt correction, but she said nothing of it. Instead, she continued, "I have been anticipating your arrival, Miss Jones."

"My arrival?"

"Since I retired from the position of Transfiguration Professor, my replacements have not been ... the most reliable. I'm certain you will be a better addition to our staff." Her voice was factual, no flattery to be detected, but I still flushed pleasantly under her approval nonetheless. Here I was, transported once more back to being a student and being so easily pleased by a teacher's approval. Helga, some things never changed.

"Unfortunately," the heavy sigh McGonagall gave suddenly brought me back from my thoughts. My mind, instantly wondering what sorts of bad situations could have caused such a heavy sigh, hoped this was not the moment where she told me that I had been mistaken and I wasn't employed here. "Unfortunately the logistical issues that I previously referred to still require my attention and so I won't be the one to escort you to your new chambers."

"Of course, that's no issue." Merlin, I was just so relieved that she hadn't told me this had been such a mistake. I was just grateful to be here, and I didn't mind having to explore the castle on my own for a bit.

"I'd enlisted the help of another member of staff. Professor Potter will be the one to show you around." She withdrew a pocket watch from her robes, staring down at it with pinched lips. "Although, he does seem to be running late as well."

"Professor Potter?" I repeated incredulously, when had Potter become a Professor of all things?

The last I'd heard, before I'd left the United Kingdom for a much-needed reprieve, he'd been training to be Auror. Perhaps he'd had enough of the trauma from the war and decided he'd wanted no more. I certainly wouldn't blame him if that were the case. Still, I knew my surprise was all too evident on my face because I'd always had an expressive face.

Taking one glance at me, McGonagall assured me, "Professor Potter is an extremely capable teacher."

"I wasn't doubting that," I assured her, trying to figure out which subject he taught. From what I'd heard, Longbottom had become the Herbology Professor a couple of years back and Zabini had become the Potions Master just a year after that. Of course, there was also Boot who had become the Charms Professor after being mentored by Flitwick as an Assistant Professor for the duration of my seventh year. And I was the new Arithmancy Professor. What was he the Professor of? What subject would suit him best?

Before I could ask my question aloud, Potter now a little taller and walking in a much more confident manner, rounded the corner. As he approached, I realised he was smiling a little apologetically. I struggled to keep back my surprise because I was so used to seeing him skulking around these corridors, usually stressed and usually angsty, that it was so startling to see him so free. Killing Voldermort must do wonders for emotional stability.

"Sorry I'm late," Potter apologised as he came to a stop in front of us. He looked between the pair of us, offering me a welcoming smile that I returned. When he shifted his eyes back to McGonagall, I took the moment to study him. Hidden under the outward appearance of the adult Potter in front of me, I could still see the lingering remnants of teenage Potter's presence; bright-eyed and intriguing, right there. When he glanced curiously back at me, likely feeling my gaze, I averted my eyes. "Welcome to the team, Jones. Come on, let me show you around."

"Thank you," I said, turning to McGonagall before I left. "Thank you very much for this opportunity, Professor."

Her answering words were distant as I turned quickly, expecting to see Potter already halfway down the hall and I'd be left to catch up. But he wasn't. He was still waiting patiently. Silently, he raised his eyebrows as if to check that I was finished and when I nodded, he gestured for me to fall into step with him. Matching my paces with Potter, I followed his lead as we took the first staircase.

"So," Potter started, peeking at me as I ran my fingertips along the bannister. It was something so small and yet it meant so much, "what have you been up to since leaving school?"

"I ran away for a bit." His head turned, interested and probing but I didn't meet his eyes. Instead, I continued to watch my surroundings. "I just needed to get away and I got an opportunity for a Transfiguration apprenticeship in Rome and I accepted it."

"And you switched out the glorious sun for Scottish rain?" Incredulously, he shook his head, "Godric, you're sounding like you lack sense."

"I probably wouldn't come back to the UK if I hadn't applied for this position." Shrugging, I followed his lead as we turned into a hallway that I'd never explored before. It was the part of the castle reserved solely for the teachers. "Who knows, if McGonagall hasn't written to me about this position, I might've stayed in Rome."

"Well, I'm glad you're back." It was my turn to look sharply at Potter whose head was resolutely turned forward again. Although, I could see the colour rising rapidly up his neck. "As for me well, I trained to be an Auror and I was working as one for a while."

"You didn't enjoy it though," I guessed, realising that tone of his voice had darkened considerably.

"It was just ... too much." Shaking his head as if to dismiss the topic, he continued, "Professor McGonagall approached me then, I'm guessing like she did with you. She seems to do that - approach old students with jobs she thinks fit them. She wrote to me, saying there was an opening for the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor and I was her first choice."

"At least you were her first choice, I don't know what number I was." We shared a smile at that.

Defence - it suited him. Considerably more than being an Auror did.

When we finally reached my chambers, Potter stepped aside so I could unlock it. It took a moment for the wards to comply before they fell away and I opened the door. I stepped inside curiously, looking around the room that was almost reminiscent of my old dorm down in the Hufflepuff basement. Connected to the main bedroom were smaller rooms, one seemingly for entertaining and another adjoining bathroom. At the foot of my bed, already waiting for me, were my bags and my trunk. Once my perusal was complete, I turned back to the door and found Potter waiting as if he was waiting to be dismissed.

"If you ever need anything," he started, turning himself to begin heading away. Still, he waited, "feel free to come and find me. I was new last year as well, so I get it. Whatever you need, I'm there for you Jones."

"Thank you." I wondered if he could hear my gratitude in the simple sentiment. He didn't know that I'd spent the last few evenings wondering how I was going to cope with being a Professor when I'd never been one before. How was I going to solve all the problems I faced? Whether or not Potter's offer was sincere, it was still enough because at least he'd expressed it.

"Don't worry about the students, they'll take to you quickly."

"Merlin, I'm hoping."

"If you want," Potter hesitated again, catching himself halfway through leaving once more, "I can show you around the school again. Not that it's possible to forget anything about this place."

"I'll let you know. But thanks again Potter, for all your help."

He inclined his head, just once. "Any time."

This time, without stopping any longer, Potter took his leave. He walked away, heading further down the corridor and I came forward, preparing to shut the door of my room. But, for some reason, I peered out into the corridor and realised that Potter was entering a room not so far down from my own.

**********

It appeared that I had been deceived by McGonagall. Or rather, I had been slightly duped.

At my interview when I had expressed some worries about transitioning from a research position into a teaching position, she had assured me that I would have plenty of time to seamlessly move from one role to another. That had been far from the truth. I had been given next to no time to adapt to being a teacher.

Instead, right after the welcoming feast and after my introduction to the entire student body as the new Transfiguration Professor, I had been allocated my first duty; carrying out the first patrol of the school year. I'd been thrown right into the deep end and somehow, it all seemed so Gryffindor that I wasn't surprised that the Gryffindor headmistress had seen fit to teach me in this manner. Helga help me, I'd have to learn to adjust quickly.

Standing before the floor-length mirror in my chambers, I straightened out my robes after making sure there was no crease in sight. I knew from my own time at Hogwarts that very few teachers wore their robes whilst conducting patrols, or even whilst teaching, but I wore mine regardless. Somehow, just wearing the robes made me feel more like a member of the faculty or at least I looked a little more like one. Checking the time once more, I reached for my wand and tucked it into my pocket before finally leaving my chambers. Shutting the door behind me and locking it, I prepared to make my way through the castle. Good Helga, I hadn't even been a Prefect whilst I was at school, so I had no idea how long these patrols would even take.

"Jones," the call of my surname had my feet drawing to a halt as I searched the corridor. I was so focused on starting these rounds that I hadn't even noticed Potter waiting against the wall for me.

He jogged slowly towards me, and the action was so reminiscent that for a moment, I had an image of a sixth year Potter doing the very same thing. Only, he wasn't that sixth year anymore, and he certainly didn't look like it either. Dropping easily into step beside me, he pushed the sleeves of his jumper up; he'd forgone his robe.

"Lost in your thoughts," he probed when I pulled at the sleeve of my robe; I felt like I was playing teacher all of a sudden."I had to call your name twice."

"Sorry," I said with an apologetic smile. "I just wanted to get these rounds over and done with so I could go back to bed."

"Not used to the late nights then?"

As we started walking, I shook my head, "No. I didn't have to do many late nights whilst I was doing my research. I'm used to early mornings.

"Although you can hardly call 9 pm a late night." Shrugging off the teasing tone of his voice, I drew my wand from my pocket and cast a quiet lumos. "Although you could hardly stay up past 8 anyway."

The familiarity in his voice had me faltering for a moment. Instead of responding to it, I voiced a question that had been on my mind since finding out about his chosen profession, "So, how do the students react to the great saviour of the wizarding world being their teacher?"

He easily moved his shoulders in a half-shrug, every part the picture of a man who was no longer burdened by great responsibility. It was a far cry from the heavy weight that had permanently been attached to him from such a young age. But he'd overcome it, and emerged onto the other side, as a now much stronger man. And I couldn't help but admire that unspoken strength that ran through his very core, and was ever-present in each step he took. "The first week or so, the new students are always overwhelmed by it. Almost like I'm someone out of a story book. So I indulge them for a little bit, just long enough to prove to them that I'm just boring to the core."

"Dead boring you are," I agreed. He chuckled at my teasing.

"Well, what about you? Looking forward to your students?"

"Funnily enough, I hadn't given the students much thought and that was absolutely stupid of me." Turning the corner, I confessed, "I think I was so focused on coming back here, that I didn't contemplate that my seventh-year students would've been in their second year when I was in my final year."

"It's a bit difficult teaching people who knew you as a student," he agreed. "But I'm sure you'll find a way to navigate it."

"I'm not too sure about that -" I cut myself off abruptly when Potter's wand came out of his pocket in a heartbeat.

He moved so quickly that I almost missed it. In one second, he had gone from walking without a care beside me to standing a little in front of me, with his wand extended before him and pointed into a corner that was now illuminated and showing two teenagers hiding in the corner. Silently, I marvelled at the wizard before me; I hadn't even heard him recite the spell. Had he recited it? And how had he even moved so fast? Although, it made some sense. He had previously trained as an Auror and he'd lived through a war, both feats he couldn't have done with slow reflexes.

When Potter spoke next, his voice was filled with the authority of a man who had been a Professor for many more years than he had really been. All of his attention was directed to the two students in front of him."Since it's only the first night, I'll only take 5 points from each of you. You both know the going rate is 10 points."

Both teenagers nodded, and without a word of protest, they walked around Potter and headed down the corridor in the direction of their common rooms. Tucking his wand back into his pocket as if nothing had happened, Potter looked at me from over his shoulder. He offered me a warm smile. "Well, welcome to the job."

**********

Despite all of my trepidation, the first week of the term had not been as anxiety-inducing as I previously worried it would be. Of course, it had not been as smooth sailing as I would have liked for it to have been. But with the weekend approaching, I chose not to focus on the hiccups I had made along the way. I was certain that the students had decided that I would be one of the teachers they could try their luck with, but when Monday came around, I could worry about if I needed to be stricter. For now, I was all too ready to spend my weekend as far away from the responsibilities of teaching as I could. Especially when I had no paperwork to mark. I knew that as the school year progressed, I would find myself inundated with essays to mark. For now, I would enjoy my free time whilst I could.

Well, I couldn't quite enjoy it just yet. My final class of the week were the seventh-years who I knew were going to be the most troubling of classes to teach. And not just because they were facing their N.E.W.T.s. Perhaps even despite it. As the lesson finally came to an end, I straightened up in my chair and felt my back crack. After a few moments, I looked up, expecting the classroom to be empty. Only, it wasn't. Three of my seventh-year students remained, standing patiently before my desk. Merlin, I did not like the way these girls were looking at me. Holding back my sigh, I greeted them with a patient smile.

"Can I help you, ladies?" I watched them expectantly as they nudged one another as if silently trying to decide which one would be first to speak. "Well?"

"So," Miss Ivan started. The Ravenclaw drew out the word, looking to her Slytherin and Hufflepuff counterparts. When they appeared unwilling to follow her lead, she continued, "So, Professor Jones, you and Professor Potter..."

My hands which had been busy collating all my papers into a single neat pile stilled. Eyes narrowing, I looked between the three girls who were very clearly on the prowl for some gossip they could take back with them. "What about Professor Potter?"

Miss Agnes stepped forward then, adjusting her robe as if hoping the yellow emblazoning it would help her in her endeavour to gather information. "You see, the entire castle has been talking about the pair of you and how you two are always together."

It had been a week, for Merlin's sake! It had been a week and Potter had been helping me to navigate the stress of finding myself in this new profession!

"Miss Ivan, Miss Agnes and Miss Bland," I said, affixing each girl with a stare that I hoped would wipe all stupid thoughts from their brains. But, from the way they didn't even falter, I knew I wasn't successful. Maybe I would have to ask McGonagall how she had honed the look to perfection. "Professor Potter and I are colleagues and nothing more. He has been very kind to assist me and it is because he has been asked to do so by the Headmistress."

They seemed unconvinced and instead, Bland finally spoke up. She spoke so excitedly that I wondered if she had even paid any attention to the lesson or if she had just been thinking about this for the entire period. "But people keep saying they've seen you! They've seen the pair of you talking and -"

"And heaven forbid colleagues to speak to one another." Shaking my head, I dropped it for a moment to gather my composure. Looking up once more, I tried a different tact. "Ladies, I appreciate this enthusiasm you have but surely it would be better channelled into other matters rather than my personal life? It is your seventh year, after all? You must have more important priorities."

"No," Ivan answered instantly and I was dismayed by the way all three girls shook their heads, Helga, these girls were intelligent enough to be taking N.E.W.T level Transfiguration and yet they were focused on rubbish. I couldn't have my first set of N.E.W.T level students flunking out. "Nothing else to focus on."

"Your N.E.W.T.s perhaps?"

"We've got months until the exams." They would regret saying that once their exams were closer.

"But you've only got a week until I need your essay back in," I spoke pointedly, gathering my papers and tapping them on the table. When I looked back at my students, I raised a silent eyebrow when they continued to look at me.

The students frowned but understood the silent message; this conversation was over. Disappointed that they had no gossip, the students left my classroom and once they were gone, I allowed my shoulders to fall; I had not anticipated schoolgirl gossip to be an issue I would face as a teacher. It had been bad enough whilst I was a student. And Merlin, it was only made worse that the gossip was still the same topic; Potter and my relationship.

Shaking my head as if it would physically remove the thoughts from my head, I dropped once more back into my seat. Putting the papers to the side, I decided to occupy my mind in the way I knew best. Reaching into the second drawer of my desk, I drew out the research paper I had spent the past two years of my life working on. It was a far cry from finished and still needed some fine tweaking, but I was still waiting on the results from the newest trials to be sent to me from the lab. But I took my time, reading through the long document, paying careful heed to all the handwritten comments on the side that my mentor had written in his small and scraggly penmanship.

Reaching halfway through the document, I took a peek at the time and realised that it was time for me to get a move on. If I hadn't randomly looked at the clock then I would've continued working and risked running late for my scheduled meeting with Potter. We were supposed to meet in the kitchens and he was an excuse I was using to get out of supervising detention on my first week as a teacher.

Safely tucking my research paper into my bag so I could finish reading it tonight, I gathered all of my papers. Doing a final surveyal of the desk, I made sure I had all I needed before hurrying to my feet. Leaving the classroom, I took a shortcut to the kitchens.

I came to a still in front of a painting of fruits and looked over it with careful eyes; it hadn't changed. And I knew the kitchens wouldn't have changed either, it would still be the same as it had been during my time as a student. I'd lost track of the number of times I had snuck into the kitchens after curfew during my time as a student. It was always easier for us Hufflepuffs than most; our common room was the closest after all.

Tickling the pear, I opened the entryway and entered the kitchen. My hunch was right; it hadn't changed. Walking further into the room, I greeted the elves who spoke about how long it had been since they'd seen me and of how great it was that I was now a teacher here. I returned the small talk, settling at the small empty table and waiting for Potter. I had barely put my bag down before I was handed a mug of steaming hot chocolate, made just the way I'd always liked it. My tired smile grew wider and more earnest and I thanked the house-elf before me.

"No thanks," the creature insisted with a familiar twinkle in his eyes. "Lokky could not forget Miss Jones favourite."

"Thank you Lokky," I said again after a grateful sip. Even when Lokky shook his head indulgently and returned to his work.

I was barely able to take a second sip when the entrance to the kitchen burst open and Potter, looking rushed and a bit more haggard, and more like his young self, hurried towards the table. He adjusted his glasses on his nose and I forcefully swallowed down the fondest that bubbled in the pit of my stomach. Instead, I took a long sip, ignoring the way I managed to burn my tongue.

"Sorry I'm late," he said, accepting his own drink - something that was decidedly not hot chocolate and settled down beside me.

"I only just got here," I assured him.

He didn't appear to believe me, and I wondered if he too remembered the times when I was left waiting for him whilst at school after something or other had made him run late. "I had to take the long way here because Boot was looking for someone to supervise detention for him. Apparently, he was the one that drew the short straw this year."

Potter took a sip of his own drink before setting it on the table. He ran a hand through his unkempt hair and I was struck by the strangest urge to try and fix it for him. But I would never do something so stupid.

"Well Jones," he said, sounding much less winded now. "How was your first week?"

I eyed Potter over the rim of my mug, contemplating not telling him. But what would be the point in keeping this quiet? He would only find out eventually. Not even eventually. Given the way gossip travelled around this place, he would know by tomorrow morning. So I didn't bother keeping it to myself and recounted a shorter version of my interaction with some of my seventh-year students. Although, I made sure to keep quiet about how utterly rubbish I had been at navigating that interaction.

Potter responded with a gentle but unsurprised chuckle. He rubbed his face, shaking his head as he continued to laugh. Helga, it wasn't that funny. "If there's one thing you can say about Hogwarts students, it's that they're creative."

"I'll agree with that." I clinked my mug with his when he lifted it towards mine.

"It only makes our jobs and our lives more interesting."

"I suppose." I know I sounded doubtful and maybe it was naive, but I'd kind of hoped I'd left all this gossip rubbish behind as a student. But clearly, I hadn't.

"Hey," Potter said softly, bringing my attention from my thoughts. He shuffled on his chair so he was sitting closer to me and his knees brushed lightly against the side of my thighs."Don't worry too much about it. It's because you're new. Pretty soon, they'll get bored and you'll be old news to them."

"Here's hoping." I kept the rest of my thoughts to myself when the kitchen door flew open with such force that I almost jumped out of my seat.

Instead, my eyes settled on the entrance where a group of students entered whilst talking animatedly between themselves. They stopped still at the sight of us sitting there, surprised at being caught. Not that the surprise lasted long. I caught the way they nudged one another and whispered under their breath. This was the last thing I needed. I looked to Potter for some guidance but he wasn't looking at me. He had snapped effortlessly back into Professor mode. Helga, I'd have to ask him to teach me how he did it.

"The kitchen is out of bounds to students," he reminded them once and it was enough. The large group of students turned and fled, murmuring their apologies in between murmured ponderings about the pair of us.

Once the students were out of sight, I slumped in my chair and let out a long sigh. How could I become old news when we were unwillingly and unintentionally giving them new fodder for the gossip cannon? Silently, I looked at Potter who was just looking at me.

Knowingly, and with a small smile, he said, "Look on the bright side, at least classes are going to be interesting for a while now."

**********

When the weekend passed, and it passed far far too quickly for my liking, I was forced to face my students. Students who, in my own experiences as a student, should have been nervous about the essay that I was expecting from them all. And yet, I was the one that was nervous, downright terrified about having to stand in front of the seventh years and their vivid imagination. Schoolground gossip still affected the subject, even when that subject was a teacher, it seemed. Helga, it was unfair.

No matter how much I tried to channel my inner Professor Sprout or even my inner Professor McGonagall, I struggled to appear even a fraction as aloof and authoritative as they had. How had they managed to maintain their composure when the students had murmured all sorts of rubbish about them? How had Sprout remained calm when the rumour mill in my third year had spun all sorts of stories about her and Hagrid? I was certainly struggling to maintain even a fraction as her as I stood with my back to my students, writing on the blackboard the key concepts for the lesson.

The whispers behind me continued and I didn't need enhanced hearing to have some inkling of what they were talking about. I'd heard the words 'kitchen' and 'Potter' frequently enough to know. Briefly thinking about my colleague, I remembered his advice; I needed to address the matter head-on if I had any hope of getting ahead of it. At the time the advice had seemed too Gryffindor to me, and it still seemed the way ahead now. But perhaps he had a point because my strategy of ignoring it hadn't quelled any of the curiosity. My students didn't seem to respect me as their teacher and that couldn't do.

Reaching the end of my word, I set my chalk down and squared my shoulders. I was their Professor and this was my classroom. Here, I was supposed to be in charge and it wouldn't do for me to be frightened of my students.

Clearing my throat pointedly, I turned to face my students who, at first, didn't fall silent in the way I'd hoped they would have. Instead, as I stood, silently before them, my arms now crossed over my chest, their chatter slowly tapered off. When there was no more talking, I walked around the front of my desk and lithely perched onto the edge. Crossing my legs at the ankle, I surveyed my students; it seemed I finally had their attention.

"It seems like no one here wants to study Transfiguration today," I said coolly. Internally, I acknowledged that I had my version of Sprout's commanding manner down. "So for now, we'll put the lecture on halt, since no one's interested. You're all talking about something else, if you've got anything to share then please, share it with the class."

Silence. Complete silence followed my words. I made a mental note to thank Sprout because the move I'd just pulled had been straight out of her book and she was already making me a better Professor. Just as I moved to hop off from the desk, a solitary hand was raised from the back of the classroom. One of the seventh year Hufflepuff boys, sitting at the corner table with his friends, had his hands raised high. I struggled not to protest - did it have to be a member of my own house that threw a spanner in the works?

"Mr Han?" I couldn't very well back out now despite knowing that he wouldn't be asking me to start the lesson once more. No, that was just wishful thinking.

"Professor Jones," Han started, lowering his hand after being addressed, and sharing a glance with his friends. "How was your date with Professor Potter in the kitchens? Do you think you'll go on another one?"

Telling a student to get a fucking life and stop butting his nose into mine didn't seem like an appropriate answer so I held my tongue. One of his friends took my silence as an opportunity to butt in, "We honestly should've known that Professors would date inside the castle. It's not like you lot can disappear and leave us unsupervised."

It seemed that was all that was needed as the chatter started up once more, with the students having a discussion out loud about the ways their Professors must date. Some even started wondering how the married Professors maintained their marriages whilst being away from their spouses and -

"That is enough," I spoke firmly, my voice cutting through all the chatter. This time the students all fell silent in one go, eyes shifting back to me. My eyes looked over the students who adjusted themselves, straightening up under the weight of my gaze. "Not that it concerns any of you, but Professor Potter is a colleague of mine who is helping me transition into the role of Professor. That is all that I will discuss on the matter and any more talk of this in my classroom and I will be forced to dock points and give out detentions, should you continue."

My students started, some even beginning to grumble.

I spoke over them, "I don't want to be a strict Professor, but I will be if I have to. I've been playing ball with you lot so far, but don't push your luck." Hopping off from the desk, I returned to the blackboard. Picking up my chalk again, I gestured to the last thing I'd written on the board, "Now, we were recapping the potential causes of not being able to transfigure an object back to its original form. Any thoughts?"

Slowly, the participation started and my students were finally, finally taking part in their studies. It seemed you couldn't always be easy-going, sometimes you needed to show them that you were, in fact, their Professor. But Merlin, did I hate having to do that. I could only hope that I wouldn't have to do that again for a long time. Before long, my students were discussing the question amongst themselves and I was just a spectator, just the way I'd originally planned for this part of the lesson to go.

A knock on the door took my attention away from my students and unfortunately, it shattered the concentration of the pupils too. Together, we all looked to the classroom door, which opened slightly. And to my utter horror, it showed Potter, standing in the now open doorway. Good Helga - I could already hear the murmurs starting up once more. I'd tried so hard to tamper them, to begin with, and now -

"Professor Potter," I said, approaching the door and hoping to stop him from coming into the room.

My colleague just waited in the doorway, greeting me with an easy smile and bright eyes. At least one of us looked like they were having a good day, "Professor Jones."

"Did you need anything?" Turning my body to face him, I pointedly turned my back to my students who were once more animated for all the wrong reasons.

Potter lifted a textbook that I hadn't realised was at his side. "You left this in my room yesterday."

I staved off a wince, hoping none of the seventh years heard his words. Although given the way there was no sharp increase in chatter, I doubted they had. Thank Helga for that; I couldn't deal with much more. Although why couldn't Potter have just given me the textbook when I wasn't teaching? I didn't ponder on it for long, after all, it wasn't like he was known for his tact.

Accepting the textbook, I said a simple, "Thanks."

"No worries." Thankfully, that was all and Potter turned and headed into the corridor.

Shutting the door behind Potter, I took a moment to gather my nerves. I just knew that my seventh years were waiting ravenously to grill me with questions. Questions that I'd only shortly managed to abate! It was all so pointless now.

Drawing in a deep breath through my nose, I turned to face my students. They all started to speak at once, but I held up a hand, silencing them effectively. "Not. One. Word."

Walking across the room to stand behind my desk, I put the textbook flat on the surface. Pressing my palms flat onto the wooden surface, I clenched my jaw, just once; the students were gossiping again. Helga help Potter because I was going to impale the man with my wand.

**********

The staff room was not what I expected it to be - of course, in my short time here within the halls of Hogwarts as a Professor, I'd been invited into the staff room. But I hadn't taken the offer up. It seemed so strange to even think about stepping foot in the room where it was rumoured the now late Professor Snape had been caught entangled in an embrace with Professor Slughorn. Or rather, that was the rumour that circulated the school in my fifth year. I still couldn't shake the feeling that I didn't belong amongst my colleagues, that I was only pretending to be a Professor.

But, the staff room was where the staff meetings were held, and I needed to attend them. Still, I hesitated, just for a moment, before pushing open the heavy wooden door and entering the room. I'd partly expected to see the room filled with the Professors from my own time at Hogwarts, despite knowing that wouldn't be the case. Of course, there were Professors from my own time in attendance - McGonagall being a prime example as she stood to one side of the room, talking in hushed murmurs to the History of Magic Professor. And yet, there were familiar faces dotted around the room - Longbottom, now the head of Gryffindor house and the Herbology Professor sat at a table with his girlfriend, the Arithmancy Professor, Professor Basilan at his side. Catching my eye, my fellow Hufflepuff offered me a warm smile before turning to address something Longbottom had said.

That wasn't the end of the familiarity. Sitting across from them was Boot, the Ravenclaw now teaching Charms and at his side Zabini, the Potions Master sat. It was a strange mix but it didn't surprise me that the similarly aged peers had gravitated towards one another. Of course, how could I forget Potter who made up the final member of the mismatching group? He spied me as I stood hesitantly at the entrance of the room.

"Jones!" He called out loudly, waving me over. His voice had all eyes turning towards me and I offered the room a smile before hurrying towards the table. When I drew closer to the table Potter pulled the empty chair at his side, out from beneath the table. I settled down with a thankful smile, putting my pile of marking on the table. "No need to worry, we're still waiting on a few others."

When the final late stragglers made their entrance, Professor McGonagall primly cleared her throat and it was like I was a student again. I straightened up in my seat and gave her all my attention. It wasn't just me, I noted, eyes flickering briefly over the other occupants of the table; we'd all focused on her without needing much prompting. Helga, I'd need to ask her how she managed to do it.

"As you are all aware, the first trip to Hogsmeade is approaching," McGonagall said, ignoring the groaning and murmuring that picked up at different spots around the room. Just what was so bad about the first Hogsmeade trip? Frowning, I tucked the question away to ask Potter later. "The trip will require some supervision, as it always does. We will need volunteers to supervise students onto the carriages and to settle themselves in Hogsmeade, should the students require any support."

When no one said a word, McGonagall frowned. She looked over the room and shook her head.

"Really?" She seemed short of raising her hands to her hips. "Must we do this every year? I need volunteers."

I shifted in my seat, looking around to see if anyone was going to volunteer. But no one did. I couldn't understand why, not when this was the first additional duty that I actually appealed to me on some level. The students always loved the first trip into Hogsmeade and if I could even help them enjoy it just a little bit more then -

Potter's hand settled heavily on mine, holding it steadily on my thigh when I had started to lift it, to volunteer. Startled at the contact, I barely managed to stop myself from jumping out of my skin. Silently I turned to Potter whose eyes remained looking ahead, towards McGonagall who continued to wait for volunteers to materialise.

"Don't even think about it," he murmured faintly. "All of us sitting at this table have made the mistake of volunteering for it before."

"But it might be fun," I whispered back.

"We all thought the same." He spoke dryly, "Notice how none of us are volunteering? Just avoid making eye contact."

With that, he lifted his hand and returned it to his side before his eyes drifted to one side, seemingly staring into space as if he wasn't trying to avoid looking at McGonagall. Silently, I lowered my head to look at my lap, or rather at the hand that Potter had been holding not so long ago. Except - was it really holding when he'd just put his hand on top of mine? Not that it mattered. My hand was already craving the warmth from his on top of it.

"It appears I'll be assigning the duty instead," Professor McGonagall said with a sigh. She picked four Professors at random and the meeting came to an end once the 'volunteers' had been chosen. Thankfully I wasn't amongst the sacrifices.

My colleagues filtered out of the room at their own pace and Potter took his time to stand with a groan. "It's my turn to supervise detention."

"Enjoy," I said with a sarcastic smile. Detention duty was one of the worst parts of the job.

"Always." He gave me a warm smile, peering down at me. He hesitated on his feet, stopping himself from turning away. "I'll see you later?"

When I nodded, his smile grew and then Potter was turning and walking out of the staff room, no doubt headed towards his classroom. Slowly my tablemates followed Potter's lead, taking their leave and saying their goodbyes until I was the only one remaining. I decided to stay a little longer; whilst I was here it made sense for me to get some work done.

Turning my focus to the essays that I still had to mark, I retrieved a quill and ink well from my bag. I picked up the first essay from the top of the pile, and settled more comfortably in my seat to start reading it. I didn't make it far through the parchment before coming across a query. Unscrewing the lid of the inkwell, I picked up the quill to write my comment when I heard a familiar throat clearing.

Looking up from the essay in my hands, I found Professor McGonagall standing in front of me.

"Professor," I greeted, gesturing for her to take a seat across from me.

"Professor," she greeted back with a familiar smile. The way she said it sounded like approval and it always made me feel less insecure. "How are you finding Hogwarts?"

"It's like coming home," I said honestly.

"That's good to hear. And how has Potter been as a guide?"

"He's been extremely helpful as a colleague."

"And outside of that?"

My eyes shot to hers in horror. Surely the talk hadn't spread to the Headmistress? "Professor-"

"Miss Jones," she started conspiratorially, looking a lot less like the Professor I knew her as. Instead, her eyes were lit with mischief and her smile knowing. "You must know by now - when you were both in school we'd all bet that Potter was going to pluck up the nerve to make a move - "

"You make bets about the students?" I cried incredulously.

McGonagall batted my words away with her hand, "That's rather common practice. Well?"

"Well?"

"Potter - "

I didn't give her a chance to speak another word. Instead, I gathered my belongings quickly and piled the marking back into my hands. "Sorry, I forgot, I've left some of the essays in my classroom."

I practically ran out of the staff room in my haste to get away from the Headmistress. As if it wasn't bad enough that the students were gossiping about my life, but now my colleagues were as well?

After successfully making my escape from the rather horrifying line of questioning that McGonagall had undertaken, I retreated to the safety of my office. The office, although larger than the one I'd had in Rome, it very much had the same vibe. The room was scattered with parchment and notebooks full of the research I'd conducted during the course of my studies. There were countless of them, each methodically strewn around, and each one important. When I first arrived, I'd deluded myself into thinking I'd be able to keep my office neat and tidy. That had lasted all of two weeks.

The one exception to the mess was the assignments I received from my students. They were all kept safe and sound, in their specific sections of the trunk tucked away under my desk. I'd had one foreboding dream about misplacing a student's essay and vowed that I would never let that happen in reality.

Although, would it really be such a bad thing to lose an essay? Or even a whole pile of essays? I'd been sitting behind my desk, in a chair that appeared to become more uncomfortable as the term progressed, for what must've been two hours by now. And yet the pile of unmarked essays was shrinking at too slow a rate for me to truly be satisfied.

Rubbing my hands tiredly over my eyes, I cast a glance towards the clock; it had just gone 7pm. How was it not time for bed yet?

Linking my arms over my head, I arched my back to stretch it out and felt some relief when it popped a little. Returning my hands back to my side, I reached for the next essay at the top of the unmarked pile. My eyes took their time to look over each sentence of what appeared to be a very promising introduction to the essay. I made it partway through the second paragraph before pausing.

My eyes scanned back to the beginning of the sentence, once, twice and a final third time. Helga, this was the last thing I needed. Setting the unmarked essay down, I rifled through the pile of essays I'd already marked and found the right one. Fishing it out, I compared it to the one in front of me. A good section of both the essays were almost identical, with the odd word changed here or there.

Letting both essays fall from between my fingers, I leaned as far back in my chair as I could. Dropping my head back so it thumped against the back of the chair, I groaned out loud. "Merlin, it's way too early to be dealing with plagiarism already."

There was a knock on my closed door that had me looking away from the essays. I made a mental note to speak to the two students in question. The knock sounded again, and it was one I'd become very familiar with over the past few weeks. Or rather, I'd become familiar with it whilst at school and these few months had allowed me to become re-familiarised with it. I called out, "Come in, Potter."

The Professor in question opened the door and stepped into the office, shutting it behind him. Without any preamble, he approached the desk, ignoring the growing piles or parchment around the room. I could still remember when he'd first entered my office, once the mess had truly started to settle in, he'd wondered aloud if it had been ransacked. But he was now used to the mess.

"Uh oh," he said simply, summoning the spare chair I kept in the corner of the room. He settled it in front of the desk, sitting across from me and stating, with a slight smile, "That's not a good look on you, Jones."

"I don't doubt that." Picking up both essays, I handed them to my fellow Professor, "Just read the bits I've underlined."

Potter did as asked, his eyes quickly scanning the underlined sentences on both essays. He looked between the two pieces of parchment in his hands before his eyes finally settled on mine. His eyes, gentle and understanding, almost distracted me from the matter at hand. Almost. "That is not going to be a fun conversation to have."

"It really won't be." Accepting the essay back from Potter, I collated all the papers together once more and settled them into their rightful place. Despite my desire to power through and finish the marking, the plagiarism was enough to smother that desire until nothing remained. "Does the paperwork ever get any easier?"

"You'll get used to it," he said, watching as I ducked under the desk for a moment, just long enough to lock the assignments away. When I popped back up and sat in my chair again, I realised he was watching me with very thinly veiled amusement, "But you could always follow my lead and make it easier on yourself - assign them fewer essays. Two a term, that seems to be the magic spot."

"I suppose." With the essays now tucked away, my eyes lingered on the Gryffindor settled across from me who, for a moment, had my mind flung back to quiet conversations in the library where he'd looked at me in pretty much the same manner that he was looking at me now. I almost looked away from him, almost. Instead, I let my eyes flicker over his features, cataloguing the changes in him much more closely. He sat before me, a man now and yet, that Gryffindor boy who used to brighten my day by just taking a moment to speak to me - even if only a few sentences - radiated from his features.

"Jones?"

Realising I was staring, I averted my eyes and spoke without really knowing why I was saying what I was saying. "So - McGonagall was telling me about something weird. She said something about a bet that the teachers had about us, back when we were at school?"

"Oh yeah?" he shuffled curiously in his seat, and I could have sworn his voice had deepened a little in those two words.

"She said something about them thinking you had a crush on me and betting when you'd make a move." I laughed as if it was the strangest thing I'd ever heard. Some part of me expected him to join in with the laughter and when he didn't, my own trailed off.

"They were right - about the crush." He definitely wasn't that teenage boy anymore. No, that teenager wouldn't have been able to say what he'd just said with such surety and without a single hint of embarrassment. Rather, the man sitting in front of me sat back straight, eyes on mine as if he wanted to read my mind. Maybe he could, he certainly was an accomplished wizard. I glanced away from him. "But I was a kid then - I'm not a kid anymore. Not that much has changed."

He hadn't explicitly said his crush had remained but I knew that was what he meant. His short sentence robbed me of any of the coherent thoughts that had been going through my mind just moments prior. Still, he remained watching me, like he was waiting for something that I wasn't certain I could give.

"Anyway," he stood up finally, "come on, I've just finished up with detention, you've been sat here for who knows how long. Let's head out for the night."

"Head out?" I repeated uncertainly, still seated and looking up at him, "Where?"

"Leave that with me." He offered me such a teasing smile that I struggled not to jump to my feet to agree to follow him. I didn't want to appear too easy, after all.

**********

I no longer had the ability to bounce back following a late night - I certainly wasn't that teenager who could spend the night awake having snuck out into Hogsmeade with a handsome bespectacled Gryffindor and returned to the castle in the early hours of the morning, despite needing to be awake at 8am the next day. Not that I'd done that during my time at Hogwarts. Or, that I'd done that just last night.

Regardless, I was running late. Far too late. On some level, I'd hoped adulthood meant that I'd make better decisions about my sleeping schedule but sadly that wasn't the case. I'd tumbled into bed last night - or early this morning - by 4 am and had fallen asleep an hour later. When I did manage to wake up, it was 9am, I'd overslept by an hour and I scrambled quickly out of bed at the realisation.

I was supposed to be monitoring the early Saturday morning detentions with Potter, the same Potter that I was supposed to meet in the Great Hall almost half an hour ago. Rushing through my chambers, I hurried to get ready for the morning, taking a quick shower and casting all the necessary glamour charms to conceal the heavy bags that I just knew were creating shadows beneath my eyes. Just as I had managed to make myself look vaguely presentable, there was a knocking on the door.

Adjusting the clasp of my earring, I walked to the door. Opening it, I was unsurprised to find Potter standing on the other side of the door. I let my eyes flicker over him briefly; he certainly looked a lot more put together than I'd felt. Maybe it was something to do with the Auror missions he'd gone on in his short career - I had no doubt that he was used to working on fewer hours of sleep in much more dangerous situations.

"I'm sorry," I said instantly, stepping aside and letting him step into my chambers. "I just need to grab my wand and we can get going."

"Take your time," he assured me, standing in front of the closed door. His eyes followed me as I rushed around my chambers, making the bed and grabbing my wand from the bedside table where I'd tossed it.

"Sorry," I said again, as I turned to face him. For a moment, I faltered at the weight of his stare on me. Barrelling forward, I approached the door and as a result, him. "I guess I'm not made for the late nights anymore."

"It's alright Jones," he assured me again as we finally stepped out of my chambers and into the corridor. As I warded the door shut, he pointed out, "It's not like the students are going to mind that we turn up late to their detention. Instead, they'll use it to try and barter leaving early, trust me on that."

"I'll take your word for it."

We set off toward the classroom where the detention was scheduled to be held. No doubt the classroom would be filled with a few students who didn't want to be there, much like I didn't want to be there. Merlin knew I would rather be in bed for another hour or three. Or, I thought, pressing a hand to my rumbling stomach - or breakfast would've been a good shout. But I didn't have any time for that. Not when we were already late to the detention we were supposed to be supervising.

There was a soft call of my name - my first name, from my side. It brought my thoughts to a standstill and I looked to Potter, watching him curiously as he continued to walk in step with me. He didn't look at me as he spoke, his voice confident and reassuring, "You don't need to worry about the teachers saying anything... about us. They've told me they'll back off."

"You spoke to them?" I didn't know how I felt about that. On one hand, I was glad that someone had addressed the issue with our colleagues about how unprofessional it all was because I certainly wouldn't have done that. But I also knew that it made me seem like I needed Potter to fight my battles for me. Not that I did and not that this was a battle -

"It was bugging you," he said simply, as we reached the classroom. He then gestured to the room behind me, "You should head in first, I'll be back soon."

Grateful for the short reprieve and the time to think, I entered the classroom where I found a few students already waiting. Greeting them, I headed to the desk at the front and made myself at home. I looked through the bag I'd brought with me, intending to get some marking done whilst supervising this detention. And yet, I couldn't shake Potter's last statement from my mind. It was a simple statement, one that shouldn't have meant much but my mind lingered on the way he'd said it. Like it made all the sense in the world for him to help me with something that was bugging me, like he didn't like it when something was irritating me. Almost like he might -

More students filtered into the room, disturbing my train of thought and sending it far away. Greeting the students, I watched as they all sat down. Finding the list of students that were supposed to be here, I ticked off the names of those that were present.

The room was silent as the students worked on the short reflective passages they'd been asked to write on why they were here in the first place and I'd long since given up trying to do any marking. My brain just didn't want to focus on any of it.

"I hope I wasn't gone too long," Potter said as he walked into the room, taking me by surprise. The students looked curiously up at Potter as well, as he headed straight for the teacher's desk and joined me behind it.

"It's alright, you haven't missed much."

Turning my focus back to the parchment in front of me, I pretended to be reaching through the essay. But rather, I was watching Potter from the corner of my eye as the Gryffindor settled comfortably next to me. He outstretched an arm towards mine, where it rested on the table, and he placed a small plate with two buttered crumpets with jam. Surprised at the sudden appearance of food, my eyes shifted towards the silent man.

"You've gone off of crumpets?" he asked at my silence.

"No - no, I still like them." At my assurance, his smile grew wider. "But why?"

"You were hungry." He shrugged as if it was normal that he'd gone out of his way to go to the kitchens to get me some breakfast. Before I could thank him, a few of the male students began jeering and teasing Harry who flickered a bored glance their way, "Do you want another detention? I can pencil you all in for another? Same time next week?"

That was enough to silence the students who turned their attention back to the parchment they were writing on. His eyes scanned the room, looking over each of the students but I found my gaze lingering on him. It was near impossible to bring myself to look away from him. Especially when I had an important question right on the tip of my tongue. It would be so easy to ask him, but whatever answer he gave me would change everything,

"I can hear your brain going into overdrive," he said without looking at me. When I still said nothing, his gaze shifted back to me. "Ask me, go ahead. Whatever's on your mind, ask me."

But I didn't dare.

Instead, I grabbed a spare piece of parchment from my bag and scribbled the question out before I could doubt myself.

Do you still have feelings for me?

I slid the parchment towards Harry, avoiding looking at him as I picked up a crumpet and took a bite - he'd even remembered that I liked strawberry jam the best. Even as I tried not to look at him, I found myself watching him from the corner of my eye, once more.

He leaned closer to the parchment to read it. Once he had, he physically shifted in his seat so his body was facing mine. Still, I didn't dare look at him. Instead, I took another bite of the crumpet; if I put the rest of it in my mouth in one go, would he look away?

I didn't get the opportunity to try it. He just continued to look at me, for a moment longer, before looking back to the front of the classroom. Swallowing my mouthful, I tried not to feel disappointed that he hadn't answered me.

"The answer is yes, by the way."

**********

My seventh year students were all silent, heads bowed over their parchment as they scribbled down their answers to the quiz I had handed out to them at the beginning of the lesson. They'd all groaned at the sight of the short test paper, but now they all concentrated their efforts on the answers and I could've sworn that I could see literal steam rising from some of their heads from the effort it was taking for them to come up with the answers to some of the questions.

Seated behind my desk, I crossed my feet at the ankle and surveyed the room; maybe I'd start quizzing them more often if it made them silent like this. At least that way I'd have a reprieve from their chatty nosey nature. It really was difficult for students to see you as an authority figure when you weren't that many years older than them in the first place.

The hourglass that I'd overturned at the beginning of the quiz, slowly emptied until the time was up. I waited a few extra moments, giving the students a chance to jot down their final thoughts before standing. I clapped my hands just once and they lifted their heads.

"Alright everyone," I said loudly, and the last few stragglers finally put their quills down. They all looked expectantly towards me, although some looked more anxious than others did. "That brings us to the end of the quiz."

Searching my desk, I found my blank copy of the test and reached for it.

"You'll be happy to know that this isn't marked," I assured my pupils who let out almost simultaneous sighs of relief. "Take this as a knowledge check. Now we're all going to talk through the answers together. Make sure you pay attention to anything you get wrong."

My students who had previously let themselves slouch in their seats from the experience were very clearly a lot more relieved; they sat up straight and some of them were even smiling again. That alone was enough to have me smiling as well.

"So, who wants to start us off and explain their answer to question 1?"

I gestured for Miss Ivan to speak when she raised her hand. Patiently I listened to my students as they worked collaboratively to come up with the correct answers themselves. Occasionally when they got stuck, I guided their answers in the right direction and helped them navigate any stumbling blocks they might've all faced. This was the type of learning that I knew would stick with them - having to investigate matters rather than being spoon-fed the answers. Helga, they appeared to enjoy this sort of learning more than their usual lessons as well. Maybe it was a good thing to introduce these group discussions more often and maybe I'd forsake the anxiety-inducing quiz altogether.

After going through all of the questions and answers, we still had 10 minutes left until the lesson and I was tempted to let the students leave early. Except, I didn't want to make a habit of doing it, not when I'd let them leave early last time. If I did the same thing too many times, they'd get into the habit of expecting it and wouldn't pay attention during the final portion of the lesson.

"We've got a bit more time left," I said as I walked around to the front of the desk. Perching on it, I crossed my legs at the ankle and gestured to the class, "Let's use this as an opportunity to talk through any questions you might have. Maybe we can discuss parts of the assignment?"

I waited for the questions to flood in. And sure enough, they did. Hands were slowly raised and I gestured for a student to speak.

"Professor Jones," Miss Agnes started, shifting slightly in her chair, "have you been asked out yet?"

My ankles uncrossed as my eyes focused on the Hufflepuff. "Excuse me?"

"Has Professor Potter asked you out yet?" she rephrased, as if she thought I'd misunderstood her the first time around.

"I don't see how that has anything to do with your assignment, Miss Agnes," I said coolly.

"Oh please," Miss Bland cut in, looking at her deskmate. "Didn't you hear what he said during his last lesson? He's not going to do it just yet."

"She's got a point - "

"What in Merlin's name do you mean?" I cut in, speaking over the students. The chatter quietened down at the sound of my voice. I couldn't bring myself to care that I was no longer using my Professor voice, and that my voice sounded nervous, even to my own ears. "What did you mean - what did Professor Potter say?"

My students were silent again and I forced down the urge to point out that this was not the time for them to hold their tongues. They'd been hounding me about Harry and no matter how much I'd tried to get them to keep their noses out of my business, they hadn't done it. And now when I wanted answers, they were keeping quiet. How bloody typical that the seventh years weren't going to do a single thing I wanted.

Eventually, it was Miss Ivan who spoke again, voice steady. She didn't bother to raise her hand. "Professor Potter is always honest - during the last lesson when he asked if we had any questions, we asked him when he was going to ask you out." She looked rightfully sheepish and I stilled my tongue from asking what his response was. How could I ask that when my stomach knotted itself so tightly that I felt queasy from the sheer mortification. Without needing prompting, she continued, "He said that he was going to get around to it."

"But he's bloody well dragging his feet," Varun piped up from the corner of the room, "You should've seen him yesterday in the Defence corridor, just when I thought he'd do it Professor Potter chickened out at the last minute. You wouldn't think he was the one to off Voldemort, would you?"

"I'm sorry," I interrupted again, knowing my voice sounded a little shrill and unsteady, "are you trying to tell me that you've been spying on us?"

"Of course, we have," Bland said with so much confidence that I struggled to stop my mouth from dropping open. The nerve of these students to think that they could -

The bell rang, signalling the end of the lesson and saving them from the points I was prepared to take off from each and every one of them. My students, likely knowing exactly where my thoughts were, gathered their belongings at record speed and filtered out of the room. Even when they had all left, I remained sitting on the desk. I allowed my head to fall from sheer embarrassment -

Menaces, absolute menaces, the lot of them.

"Professor Jones?" My head shot up in surprise at the tentative call of my name. Standing in the doorway was the first of my first-year students. "Is everything okay?"

Realising the image I must've given off, I hurriedly hopped off the desk and ushered the first years in. They all filed into the room uncertainly, looking at me like I was fragile and likely to burst into tears or something. Not that I would burst into tears. Bursting into flames of sheer horror was much more likely. If my students had been spying on me ... did that mean they'd noticed the way my eyes trailed after Harry? Or the way they appreciatively scanned his figure?

Forcing back my mortification once more, I assured them, "Everything is fine, just a mild headache. Come in, all of you."

The next lesson passed in a blur, my mind leading my body on autopilot as I taught the first year Slytherins. Merlin, I could only hope that I'd managed to run the lesson to any sort of standard. I couldn't be too certain, not when I was struggling to remember any of it. I was just glad for it to have come to an end.

When the bell rang at the end of the lesson, I collected my things just like my students did. Collating everything I needed into my bag, I slung it over my shoulder. If I could have, I'd have rushed out of the room long before any of the students did. But I couldn't. Instead, I had to bide my time until each of the students had left the classroom if only to seem like I wasn't currently a slightly anxious mess. The students couldn't know how much of a mess I really was.

After the final first-year students filed out of the room, I followed suit. Shutting my classroom door behind me, I warded it shut and walked in the direction of the Defence corridor where Professor Potter tended to have his classes scheduled. It took a great deal of conscious effort on my part not to walk with quickened steps, pushing my way through the numerous students who were walking through the corridor, far too slow for my liking. But I managed it, measuring each step against the one before it, I walked at a relatively normal - if not just slightly too fast - pace. If anything, I looked more like a busy teacher and less like a teacher shaped hurricane.

Finally arriving at Harry's classroom after what felt like a much too slow walk, I stood in the open doorway. It appeared Professor Potter operated on an open-door policy, as evidenced by the door that even now after lessons had ended for the day, was propped open for any students that wished to approach him. Unfortunately for him, I wasn't a student and I had a bone to pick with him. Well, I would do that if I could somehow control my mouth which had become too dry at just the sight of him standing behind his desk.

Unaware of my appreciative eyes, Harry remained standing with both of his palms pressed flat against the desk as he read over some papers. His brows were furrowed slightly and he chewed very faintly at the corner of his mouth - Helga help me, that action shouldn't still send butterflies erupting in the pit of my stomach, not like when I'd been a teenager.

Somehow, I summoned up what little nerve I had left, and I rapped my knuckles against the door. Harry looked up from the papers in front of him and turned to face the door. At the sight of me, the furrow in his brows eased.

"Hey," he greeted, ushering me into the room, "come in. I thought you were one of my students."

"Nope, just me." Clearing my throat, I remained by the doorway. My stubborn feet wouldn't step into the classroom, despite my internal conflict that it seemed weird for me to just be standing here.

Not that Potter seemed to mind. Instead, he sent the papers he had been studying into his bag with a single motion of his wand. Picking his bag up, he approached me and joined me in the corridor. He gestured for me to lead the way and when I pointed to his still open classroom door, he just gave me a smile.

"It'll be fine," he said simply, "trust me."

Taking his word for it, I fell into a silent step beside him and wondered how to go about bringing up this conversation. Did I ease my way into the topic? Or ask him why he'd told the students what he'd said? Or did I want to know if he actually meant it? I definitely wanted to know if he meant it.

I said none of that. Instead, quite without meaning to, I demanded, "Why are you talking to your students about me?"

Realising how harsh I must've sounded, I wanted to take it back. But when Harry glanced curiously at me, head turned towards me, I knew I couldn't have possibly come up with another way to bring it up. Instead, I watched my silent colleague with hesitant eyes. Why wasn't he saying anything?

"And what do you mean by that?" he asked finally. He didn't sound nervous, or even like he'd been caught out by the sudden question. He sounded at ease and I wanted to hit him with my bag for it. It was hardly fair that I was the one that was nervous.

"My seventh-years told me ... what you said during the last question session at the end of their lesson." My roundabout answer threw him for a minute; maybe I should have just asked him outright why he was telling the students that he planned on asking me out. Not only was it unprofessional but it was also none of their business.

Slowly but surely, realisation dawned on him and to my immense satisfaction, his confidence faded slightly as uncertainty crept into the edge of his features. For a second, and only a second longer did his eyes remain on me. He turned his head quickly again to face forward, "Oh."

It wasn't a good thing that I was so satisfied that he was embarrassed and nervous too. But Helga was I glad I wasn't the only one feeling this way.

"Yeah - oh." Gaining some composure after seeing him lose some of his, I prompted again, "So?"

He turned to face me abruptly then, his footsteps coming to a halt. "What exactly did they tell you?"

I came to a still beside him and held his eyes. This interaction was changing this way and that - how was he on the advantageous foot once more? Refusing to back down, I held his eyes. "I mean - I don't see what that has to do with anything - you're not supposed to be discussing other Professors with your students, it's wholly unprofessional."

He continued to watch me and I could've sworn the corner of his mouth lifted upwards just slightly - almost teasing in the way he was watching me. Harry said my name slowly, my name leaving his mouth as if it belonged there. "What did they say?"

"That you'd told them ..." when I trailed off, he gave me an encouraging nod. "Apparently you plan on asking me out soon."

"I do."

Before I could even wonder at how straightforward he was being, he reached a single hand out to take hold of my elbow. He used it to draw me towards him until the front of my shoes were brushing against his. And before I could protest - not that I really wanted to - he dipped his head down to kiss me. Caught off guard, I hesitated for a moment before coming to my senses and leaning in towards him -

"Oh my god! Did you see he kissed her!" the excited shrieks - because they could only be described as shrieks, had me shooting away from Harry as mortification brought a searing heat to my cheeks. I was living my worst nightmare.

Stumbling away from Harry and putting as much distance from him as I possibly could in the corridor that I previously thought was empty, my eyes settled on the worst combination of students possible. It really did have to be Ivan, Agnes and Bland who stumbled on the pair of us - because there couldn't have been a worse combination of students to see us. But did they stumble or were they following - I had no idea.

The three students were giggling between themselves and I just knew that they were going to spread this as far through the school as they could. I was lost for words and I didn't dare look at Harry who, ever the overprotective man, stepped just a single motion in front of me, bringing the girl's attention from me to him. I watched as the students' eyes centred on Harry and the amusement faded just a little. At least they respected one of us as their teacher.

"Shouldn't you all be in the Great Hall?" he asked, snapping effortlessly back into Professor mode. I was almost impressed - almost. After all, it was because of him that we were in this situation, to begin with. "Get to the Great Hall before I have to take points. Oh, and I don't want to hear a word about this situation - not from anyone."

The seventh years appeared to understand, nodding and turning in the direction of the Great Hall. Whether they actually would listen to Harry remained to be seen. But if anything did manage to get out to the rest of the school, at least I'd know where it all came from. Not that it would do me any good knowing that either.

A gentle hand on my elbow drew me back from my musings. I turned towards Harry, ready to berate him for not looking at his surroundings - because what sort of ex Auror didn't survey his surroundings. But any thought of that faded away at the look in his eyes. Although he looked put together on the outside, his eyes gave away his nervousness and Helga, if that didn't have me melting on the inside.

"So," he cleared his throat, giving me a soft smile. "Maybe, maybe we could go out sometime? And it can actually be a date this time?"

I could only nod, fighting my own smile.

**********

7 YEARS LATER

Having worked as a teacher for more than a handful of years now, I knew exactly what I was walking into. I knew what sort of questions why students were going to bombard me with the moment I stepped into the room, which was exactly why I took a few seconds to prepare myself. Seventh-year students were nosey buggers, appearing to grow even nosier the moment they entered their seventh year. It was almost as if they didn't want to focus on their upcoming final exams and were doing anything to not have to focus on their own lives.

Drawing in a breath through my nose, I breathed it out deeply through my mouth. I should've been used to this by now, but I really wasn't. Not that it mattered - I was here to do my job. Reaching out a hand, I turned the handle of my classroom door and pushed it open. Stepping into the room, I paid no mind to the way all chatter stopped at the sight of me and instead, I shut the door behind me and returned to my desk.

It was just the first lesson of the school year - nothing more.

Putting my bag onto the desk, I drew out my copy of the textbook and finally addressed the class. "Good morning, everyone."

I received varied greetings before the barrage truly began. The students spoke at once, loudly asking various questions and over time I'd perfectly honed the ability to pick out individual questions from amongst the noise. Unfortunately for me, because I was able to do that, I knew just what sorts of questions were being asked of me. The students didn't want to ask me any questions about Transfiguration, no; they wanted to ask me questions about my wedding.

With a sigh, I contemplated giving up. Instead, I decided to take a leaf out of my new husband's book. Putting the textbook down with a gentle thud, I didn't bother sitting behind the desk. Instead, I walked around the front and sat on the desk. Crossing my legs at the ankle and looked over my students who, seeing the position I took, slowed their questions. Not completely, but still.

"Alright," I spoke over the students, and they finally fell silent, all watching me. They all knew that I was tight-lipped with my personal life, the way any Professor should be with their students. Not that Harry was like that and it bugged me to no end. But maybe he had a point; nip it in the bud. "Just this once, this one lesson only I'm going to indulge you. So get your questions over and done with, you won't get this chance again."

At first, there was silence, as if the students couldn't quite believe what I'd said. The silence lengthened and just as I went to hop off the desk to begin the lesson, the floodgates opened.

"Why weren't we invited to the wedding?" someone called from the back of the room.

"Your chambers were moved," this time a male voice declared.

"Where did you go on your honeymoon?" that one was from my left.

"I saw the pictures in the newspaper and - "

"Ok!" I called out loudly, interrupting them all. "One - we had a small wedding. Two - Harry and I, we're sharing chambers now."

Jeering and whistling went through the classroom and I channelled my inner unimpressed Poppy Pomfrey, I kept my cool, even as blood wanted to rush to my cheeks. Instead, I waited patiently for the noise to stop.

Eventually, it did, and I carried on, "We spent two weeks in Bali for our honeymoon and finally, yes, the newspapers did manage to get pictures. They weren't invited and they've been taken to court already for infringing on our privacy."

My students nodded and for a second I had the barest flicker of hope that the point about infringing on privacy would stick. Of course, it didn't. My students continued with their line of questioning and I answered them all, apart from the inappropriate ones, until they grew bored. Maybe Harry had been right all along, once you satisfy all their curiosity, they'd have no more questions left to ask. We finally managed to return to the true focus of the lesson and I took my place behind the desk.

Distributing the syllabus plan to the students with a quietly murmured spell, I took my time talking through it and highlighting the parts that would be important for the essays I'd already planned for them. In the end, the students finally asked me some Transfiguration related questions which I gladly answered and the bell rang.

Slowly my students rose, packing away their belongings and I turned to prepare for my next lesson of the day; it would be the third-year Gryffindors if memory served. There was a faint knocking on the door that I barely paid much mind to, I was too busy trying to find the third year syllabus,

"Morning, love." Startled, I looked up sharply towards Harry who had entered my classroom and walked right up to my desks without my noticing. To my mild dismay, I noted faintly that the students were no longer walking out of the room like they had been doing mere moments ago.

"Harry," I greeted back, smiling up at him even as I wondered silently what he wanted.

"You left this in the room." He held out a parchment that I gratefully realised was the third year syllabus.

"Thank Merlin," I accepted it eagerly. Smiling thankfully up at Harry, I let out a sharp, surprised gasp when he ducked his head down to give me a quick kiss. From behind Harry, I heard some of my students giggle. And yet, I couldn't bring myself to chastise them. Instead, when Harry drew back, I murmured, "These students are far too involved in our lives."

"Oh well." Harry tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear, "At least this is what's the most interesting part of their lives whilst at school - their teachers' relationships. Whilst we were at school, we were all too focused on staying alive to worry about who was dating who."

"You're right," I conceded, I would much rather my love life hold their fascination than have them terrified that they might die. This was much better.

Chuckling, Harry marvelled, "Would you look at that? You can admit I'm right."

"Don't push your luck, Potter."

"I won't, Potter." He dropped another kiss on my forehead, "I need to get going before my students arrive. I'll see you at lunch?"

"It's a date."

Harry drew away from me and walked through the students without paying them much mind. My eyes followed him out of the room before returning to the students whose curiosity had returned tenfold.

Sighing, I gestured them all away, "Lesson's over - get a move on. I'm not writing late notes for anyone."

____________________

As always, let me know what you thought about this one. I'm hoping to get the next one shot posted on the 18th. Here are a few hints:

* an only child 

* talented quidditch player 

* mischevious but caring in nature