Who Has to Know?
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Horace Slughorn was just about ready to retire. He had finished grading fifth-year essays on the correct composition of Calming Draughts (which had taken a while, as some of them were utterly clueless in that respect). He had completed all that pesky staff paperwork Professor Dippet seemed to enjoy forcing on the teachers these days. All he wanted to do was sit down and help himself to some crystallized pineapple.
Before Horace could enjoy his treat, however, he heard a knock at the door. "Come in, it's open." he called to whoever awaited outside.
The evening visitor was none other than Tom Riddle. When he stepped into his professor's office, Horace seemed taken aback. "Merlin's beard, Tom, what are you doing here at this hour?"
"I just thought I would stop by," Tom replied. "Of course, if you're not busy."
Tom could call it stopping by all he wanted, but Horace knew what these words really meant. There was no mistaking the hunger in his words, no missing the lustful look in his eyes.
"No, no, Tom," Horace forced the words out of his mouth. "We can't keep doing this. I am your professor. It's…it's immoral."
"Who has to know?" Suddenly Tom seemed uncomfortably close, even though he remained in the doorway.
Horace knew the relationship he had with Tom was most certainly not a normal student-teacher interaction. If the headmaster knew about it, surely he would be fired. But on the other hand, all of his worries seemed to fly away when they were together. Horace turned to face his student and said, "Very well. You win. But this will be the last time."
"Very well, Professor," said Tom, slowly coming closer to his professor. Horace barely had time to think about how wrong he knew this was before he was lost in the heat of the moment.
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