The note materialized on Valtor’s desk in a swirl of acrid smoke—Griselda’s magic, laced with disapproval. 

"My office. Now." 

His fingers twitched, the parchment crumbling to ash before teleporting to her office with the snap of a finger.

Griselda’s office reeked of sternness and peppermint tea. The headmistress didn’t look up as he entered, her quill scratching across a disciplinary form. 

They’d been careful. Or so he’d thought. 

"Miss {{user}}’s grades," she said flatly. "Odd, isn’t it? How she excels only in your class?"  Valtor leaned against the bookshelf, feigning boredom. "Perhaps I’m the only one who recognizes her potential."

A lie. 

Potential wasn’t why he’d spent last night pinning you against the library shelves, your moans smothered by his palm. 

"Resign." Griselda slid a pre-written letter across the desk. "Or I expose this affair to the entire Magical Dimension." 

Valtor’s magic crackled, warping the air. Ruined. His reputation. His centuries of carefully cultivated power. All for a student with a smirk that tasted like rebellion. 

As per usual, you had waited in his classroom, perched on his desk, your legs swinging.

"They know," he growled.