The next morning, I had dressed warm as the temperatures continued to fall and ice out the landscape outside. I had ridden the train while trying to prepare myself for how I was going to bring up the matter to Harry.

I was sure he would try and deny the truth as he had done the first time I had asked. For all that he was, Harry was a gentleman first and foremost; if he hadn't told me from the start about the agreement of my enrollment here, he obviously hadn't wanted me to know. Probably because of what I was feeling right now; An unbearable guilt that was eating me up inside.

So as I had stepped off the train and walked the rest of the way to class, I was mentally prepared to joust with my words. I had arrived with the other students who were walking alongside me, snacking on foods and sipping on sugared drinks, prepping for what would no doubt be another rough class.

Walking inside the classroom, I was surprised to find Harry already there. He was standing by the front desk, sipping what appeared to be tea while he waited for the students to arrive. His eyes were fixated on something on the table, a bunch of odious-looking papers. It was right around then I remembered we had taken a test the last time we were here.

"Right then," He finally spoke up, as the rest of the class arrived and sat down. "I've corrected your tests from last time, and I'm pleased to say the majority of you are up to scratch with the material Professor Cho laid out for you. However, there was a percentage of the class that could drastically need some improvement," He told, looking over the rim of his glasses at the classroom. "With that in mind, I'm therefore going to surmise some of the basics very quickly before we go into the lesson plan for today."

I tried to focus on what he was saying, but my mind kept zoning out, even while I somehow absentmindedly managed to grab a few notes here and there. He kept talking, but whatever he was saying kept getting overshadowed by the fact that his voice sounded off, like it had done since he arrived. And now I knew why.

It pained me to see him stuck in a role he despised, according to his own words, surrounded by self-obsessed young people who were addicted to technological gadgets and silly trends. That he had put himself in this position for me, just so I could get my dream education.

The dream that had been a fading vision slowly turning into a nightmare lately.

And that, of course, only worsened my guilt. If the only reason I was really here was because Harry had agreed to come as well, then everything I had worked for might as well not have been.

– I wanted to prove I could earn my place here, not arrive here as another bargaining chip.

Rubbing my temple, a headache started to form again. I had had more and more of those with every passing week and class I had attended. I blamed school stress and pressure.

Somehow class managed to pass again without me catching much of what it had been about. At this pace, I would need to borrow notes from one of my classmates to catch up, but so what. Before I could even begin to focus on my classes again, I needed to know the one teaching them wasn't here under practical duress.

When the students started to clear the classroom, I did as I had done the last few times and lingered for a moment, taking purposely longer to pack my things. I waited till the class was completely empty before I walked down as well, taking a deep breath.

Enough would be enough.

"Harr—"

"Miss Berry—" We spoke at the same time as I stopped in front of his desk. I closed my mouth, just as Harry pressed his together.

"You can go first," I automatically said, knowing what I had to say would surely take a while.

"It can wait," He disagreed, shaking his head. "You were saying?"

I cleared my throat a little. "Right, well... I need to talk to you about something."

"Go ahead, Miss Berry."

His formal usage of my name nearly made me cut my own tongue from biting it so hard.

Never mind the fact how he used to say my name when he had been balls deep inside me.

"Are you really here just to teach, or are you here as a way of paying for my spot here?" I spoke out bluntly, because beating around the bush had never been my thing. And as per our summerly time together, Harry didn't seem surprised at my outburst.

"Excuse me?" He asked, taking off his glasses and looking at me with a frown.

"I heard a rumor," I confessed, pressing my lips together again.

Harry frowned deeper at me for a moment, but then sighed and shook his head. "You should know better than to listen to rumors," He said, unimpressed. Sending me a curt glance, he slid his glasses back on and turned his eyes down to the papers on his desk.

"So it's not true then?" I pressed on, wanting to challenge him on it. "The board didn't give you an ultimatum for my spot here, telling you to come teach or I wouldn't get in?"

Harry sighed heavily again and closed his eyes. "Cassandra..."

My gut instantly tightened. The way his lips drawled out my name was exactly how he used to say it. It brought back memories I didn't need and couldn't deal with right now.

"Just tell me the truth," I demanded, maybe a bit too harshly. But I was through being a pawn in his life, be it for his brother or some other friend who wanted to use him as well. "Just tell me, I can take it. If you came here because the board wouldn't take me without—"

"They didn't," Harry cut through firmly. He met my eyes with a calm, yet stern look. "They gave me a choice, Cassandra. Nobody forced me to come here. I'm here because I want to be, I assure you."

I pressed my lips together again when I felt my resolve to break. Was he really telling the truth? If the board didn't blackmail him to come, then why... why was he acting so... different?

When a moment passed and I didn't speak, but merely looked down at the floor, I felt Harry shift in front of me. "Who gave you the impression that I was here as paying off a debt?" He finally voiced.

"Just some stupid gossip... it sounded right, though. You can't deny that." I answered.

"I gave you the material for you to make it here on your own, Cassandra. You never needed me."

My eyes flew up and met his eyes. They were hard, determined, but as always, those amber irises were depths of unreadable. He showed me exactly what he wanted me to see and not a gram more. It was with that pain I therefore averted my own eyes again that showed much more than I wanted him to see.

"Right..." I silently said, staring at the floor again. "Well, then..."

"It so happens that that brings me to what I wanted to say," He then suddenly spoke, causing me to slowly lift my eyes again when he lifted something from his table; a folder. "Your grades."

"What about them?"

"They're not what they should be," He informed, opening up the folder I now realized had to be my transcripts and grades. As the owner of my grant, he had every right to look at them. "As a scholarship student, they should be much better, but your grades have been continuously dropping ever since you got here."

I drew in a breath and felt the headache return. "I know. I've just... I just had some trouble adjusting. The workload is a lot."

"And that's to be expected, but you understand that your grades need to improve soon if you want to be able to keep your scholarship," He told, causing me to close my eyes and nod silently.

Never mind the fact the reason they were bad was because of him.

"I'll get them up, I promise."

"Good. I'll keep you to it."

My eyes flew open again and met his. His gaze was firm on mine, with just that hint of dominance that I remembered from our time together.

"Of course," I replied, clenching my fists when my insides betrayed me. "Professor."

And with those as my last words, I left the classroom, holding onto my books and senses for dear life.

Stepping out into the deserted hall, I was almost lost in my own miserable thoughts when I suddenly heard an enchanting sound of expensive high heels.

My eyes slowly lifted, and as they did, my jaw dropped to the floor instead.

A fucking model was walking down the hallway. At least I assumed she was a model, purely from the way she carried herself, to the way her body moved with each perfect step, as if she was walking a catwalk instead of an old campus hallway. The mere confidence in her strut was enough to set her apart, but as if that wasn't enough, her body and face was out of this world as well.

With long, perfectly wavy shoulder-length hair, she had tied half of it back with a claw clip while just a few neat bangs framed the sides of her face. Her lips were plump and colored in a subtle nude-pink color, her lashes naturally long and her eyes like a felines; lined and sharp.

Her body was an amazing hour glass shape, but despite the genetic goldmine, she wore 'appropriate' clothes as Harry no doubt would call it—a button down shirt, tucked into a pressed pencil skirt. Both items of clothing looked fitted and stitched to her body, no doubt as expensive as the black high heels resting at the end of her long tanned legs.

The only thing that seemed out of place was an awkward and cheap plastic card hanging from around her neck—and that's when it occurred to me.

This woman was a teacher.

I must've stared for too long, but the woman didn't even as much as notice me as she passed me by and went around the same corner I had just come from—heading into Harry's classroom.

The hell?

An uncomfortable sensation spread inside my stomach, like a forewarning. I knew I shouldn't have, knew it was a bad idea, but for some reason I found myself turning on my foot as well and sneaking back the same way, following the woman.

Please don't let my suspicions be true...

I stopped right outside the door, which had conveniently enough been left ajar, just enough to catch the voices now coming from inside.

"Harry," A melodic and smooth feminine voice sung out, sounding much too happy to simply be saying his name. Even her voice was pretty.

But it was in that moment, as I peered my eyes into the classroom and saw Harry still standing there—I knew.

Even before he spoke, I saw the way his back tensed and his features hardened, before he finally spoke the dreaded word; the nail in the coffin that would confirm my suspicion.

"Catarina."

• • •

Should be an interesting next chapter.