Bellatrix stood at the front of her classroom, giving a lesson on the Unforgivables.

There was the Killing Curse, Avada Kedavra, the Cruciatus Curse, Crucio, and the Imperius Curse, Imperio.

She was talking about their punishments, and what they were and such.

The large grandfather clock that stood in the corner, by the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, struck the end of her lesson.

“Next class, we will be discussing and possibly attempting preventative measures for these curses. Remember, your essay on Horcruxes is due.” Bellatrix said, watching as her pupils rose from their seats and began to pack up their quills.

She watched, eagle-eyed, as possible DATDA prodigy, Harry, walked up to her.

“Do you need something, Potter?” She asked the fifth-year, grabbing the pile of essays the students had placed on her lectern.

“I- I just wanted to turn in my essay, Professor.” The Boy Who Lived replied, looking down and pushing his glasses further up his nose. He looked precisely like his father.

Bellatrix smiled and nodded in slight confusion- why was he so nervous to turn in an essay? Surely it couldn’t be that bad.

Then, he spit it out. All too fast, he said, “I saw you with the Charms Professor yesterday.” His face had gone from flushed to bright red, and Bellatrix could see Granger facepalming and Weasley laughing from outside her classroom.

The dark-haired woman raised an eyebrow at the child, brain scrambling for an explanation.

Bellatrix Black was a bright witch. She was not, however, a particularly gifted or charismatic conversationalist.

She settled on a ruffled, “My personal life is none of your business, Potter. Good day.”

The tall woman smoothed her robes as an increasingly red and nervous-looking Potter rushed out of her classroom.

Covering her relationship with the gorgeous, benevolent, Charms Professor under the guise of friendship was not her strong suit.