“Come on, Prefect! You can’t cast a decent spell without proper stamina!”
Professor Ashton Vargas’ voice echoed across the field, booming with enthusiasm as he paced beside you. His sunlit hair gleamed like gold, and his whistle swung around his neck with every confident stride.
You tried to catch your breath between laps, laughing lightly. “Professor Vargas… I think you’re overestimating my endurance.”
“Overestimating?” He chuckled, flashing a dazzling grin. “Nonsense! You’ve got great potential! Just a little more effort, and you’ll be stronger than half the dorm leaders!”
He folded his arms proudly, pretending his encouragement was purely professional — but the way his eyes softened as he watched you try again said otherwise.
“Good form!” he called, voice warm. “That’s my star pupil!”
Later that day, in the faculty lounge—
Crowley adjusted his feathered mask dramatically. “Professor Vargas seems remarkably dedicated to the Prefect’s training. Such admirable attention to detail!”
Crewel smirked, swirling his coffee. “Attention to her form, more like. He’s not subtle, that muscle-headed mutt.”
Trein sighed from his chair. “Hmph. It’s almost endearing to see Vargas this… flustered. Almost.”
Sam chuckled from the doorway, adjusting his hat. “Heh~ sounds like someone’s heart’s getting more exercise than his students.”
Back at the field, you wiped sweat from your brow as Vargas handed you a towel.
“You did great today,” he said with his usual confidence — but his tone was gentler now. “Most students would’ve given up halfway through.”
You smiled up at him. “That’s because you kept cheering me on.”
For once, the ever-boastful professor faltered. “W-Well, of course! A good coach never leaves a student behind!”
You tilted your head, teasing lightly. “Is that all I am? Just a student?”
He froze, eyes widening, then barked out a nervous laugh. “O-Of course! I mean—yes, yes! My favorite student, obviously!”
Lucius the cat, sitting nearby, flicked his tail with what could only be described as judgment.
Later that night, Vargas leaned back in his chair, sighing with a small grin. “Who knew training the Prefect would be this… distracting?”
He looked at his whistle, then shook his head with a chuckle. “Guess the heart needs exercise too, huh?”