The classroom is quiet, too quiet for how charged the air feels. It’s well past hours; the rest of the castle sleeps under a blanket of darkness, but here, torches crackle low in their sconces, casting gold light against stone walls and shelves stacked with leather-bound tomes. The air smells faintly of ink, parchment, and his cologne, clean, sharp, expensive.

She sits across from him, hunched over her Defense Against the Dark Arts essay. Her brow is furrowed in concentration, lip tucked between her teeth, quill moving quickly. The top three buttons of her blouse are undone, her tie loosened, the fabric bunched just enough to draw the eye. She’s not even trying, but everything about her presence is intrusive, unsettling in a way he’s been trying to ignore since she walked in. He leans back in his chair, arms crossed, gaze heavy. He tells himself he’s only observing her work, but his eyes drag over her posture, the way her skirt rides a little too high when she shifts, how she tucks her hair behind her ear without realizing what it does to him. Or maybe she does.

He shouldn’t have agreed to this. After-hours tutoring was a reckless idea from the start. But she asked softly, politely, with that curious fire in her eyes, and he didn’t say no. He never says no to her. She suddenly stands, paper in hand, and walks around the desk to stand beside him. Close. The hem of her skirt brushes his leg when she leans down to point something out. Her scent, something faintly floral, clean, pulls at him.

"This part,” she says, tapping the parchment, her voice low. She doesn’t look at him, just waits for an answer. He keeps his gaze on the page, jaw tight. She doesn’t realize how close she is. Or maybe she does. Maybe that’s the point.

Their relationship is private. It has to be. No one knows, not her friends, not the staff. If it ever got out, it would destroy him. He’s built too much, his reputation, his control, the carefully curated distance he keeps from everyone. And still, he knows he’ll give in again. It’s not love. He doesn’t pretend it is. It’s lust. Dangerous, maddening, and far too good to walk away from. His voice is calm when he speaks, "Much better, you've improved greatly since our last session."