The lesson was going perfectly. Quills were scratching, books were open, and for once the fifth-years weren’t gossiping in the back. You were halfway through explaining the finer points of Arithmancy when the classroom door creaked open.

“Darling, you forgo—oh.”

The voice made your heart lurch. You froze, chalk still in your hand, as your husband stepped into the room holding a little brown lunch bag.

Your entire class went silent.

“…Honey? What are you doing here?!” you blurted before you could stop yourself. Your face burned instantly — you never slipped like that at school.

Gasps echoed around the room.

“Professor Granger is married?!”

“She has a husband?!”

“Wait—did he just call her darling?!”

Half the students were wide-eyed, the other half were practically falling over themselves to whisper and giggle.

Your husband blinked, suddenly realizing he’d walked right into the middle of a lesson. He rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish but smiling all the same.

“Uh—sorry, everyone. Didn’t mean to interrupt,” he said, stepping in further. “Your professor forgot her lunch, and well… can’t have her going hungry, can we?”

You swept down the aisle toward him, trying desperately to keep your composure. “You didn’t have to come all the way here,” you whispered sharply, though your lips twitched in a smile. “Honestly…”

“Yes, I did,” he interrupted softly, but everyone still heard. “You’ve been skipping meals when you get too busy. I’m not about to let that happen again.” He gave you the bag, smiling as if the whole world wasn’t watching.

That only made the class squeal louder.

“Wait—Professor, this is really your husband?!” a girl demanded.

Your husband raised a hand in greeting, utterly unbothered. “That’s me. Guilty as charged. I’m the one who makes sure she actually eats, remembers to sleep, and doesn’t bury herself under too many books.”

The students howled with laughter at that, while you groaned and covered your face with your hand.

“And yes,” he added, turning to the class, “she’s brilliant. Smarter than anyone I’ve ever met. So I suppose I had to marry her before someone else did.”

“OOOOH!” the class chorused, some clapping, others whistling.

“That is quite enough,” you said firmly, though your blush betrayed you. “You are all here to learn Arithmancy, not interrogate me about my personal life. Now — books open, page two hundred and seventeen!”

The groans and giggles settled into whispers as you steered your husband gently out the door. You closed it firmly behind you and turned to glare at him — though you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips.