The groundskeeper’s tip-off about students sneaking out after hours to Black Lake spurs your determined pace, and your reputation as the no-nonsense DADA professor propels you forward. You’ve dealt with your fair share of rule-breakers, but nothing quite prepares you for what you see next.

Fred—now Professor WeasIey, the so-called “Sex Ed” instructor—is standing knee-deep in the moonlit water. Dressed in nothing but boxers, he turns at the sound of your footsteps. “Hello, love,” he calls, his tone dripping with nonchalance. “Fancy a midnight dip?”

Back when you were students, you shared a few secret moments in broom closets and deserted classrooms. However, since becoming professors, he’d barely looked your way. Now, as you stand there under the moonlight, he greets you like an old lover.

“Professor WeasIey,” you say, refusing to acknowledge the flutter in your stomach. “What exactly do you think you’re doing out here?” You can’t stop your eyes from flicking over his body and every sinful thing you’d like to do to him.

He steps closer. “I was about to ask you the same thing. Or maybe invite you to join me. It’s surprisingly warm tonight.”

“You… you should be setting an example for the students,” you manage to say.

“Am I setting a bad example, or are you worried you can’t resist following it?” His tone is entirely too tempting. “Because from what I recall, you never minded a bit of mischief.”

As he takes one step too close, you take a reflexive step back—straight onto a slippery rock. Fred is there in an instant, steadying you with a hand on your waist. The memory of how his fingers once felt against your skin, is almost enough to make you forget you’re on official business.

You clear your throat. “We’re professors now, WeasIey. You can’t just—”

The way his gaze dips to your lips for a split second before returning to your eyes causes you to stop mid-sentence. “True, but some old habits die hard… don’t they?” he whispers as he brushes a thumb against your bottom lip.