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Harry Potter's first week of college had finally passed, and he found himself heading to a meeting he'd been dreading. The guidance counselors at Hogwarts had always seemed a little too enthusiastic about their jobs—and for all the wrong reasons. They would push students in whatever direction they deemed best, but all they really cared about were grades and extracurriculars. They handed out multiple-choice tests with a hundred questions, claiming they could analyze personalities and produce a list of ideal career choices.
But it was all bullshit.
They wanted Harry to be an English teacher. Sure, he excelled in that subject and had expressed an interest in writing, but his counselor couldn't stop warning him that almost no one made a living at it. He should, the counselor insisted, pick a more reliable career while keeping writing as a hobby.
So, as Harry walked to this new meeting, he was ready for combat. Whoever this Ms. Tonks was, he wasn't going to let her push him around.
When he reached her office, Harry paused outside the door and heard something inside: soft sobbing. Rather than barge in, he knocked. The sound immediately stopped, and then came a muffled nose-blow. Papers shuffled, and a woman's voice finally said, "Come in!"
Harry opened the door and stepped into a scene that made Professor Malfoy's office look downright tidy. It was a veritable pigsty. A filing cabinet stood in one corner, every drawer partially open with papers sticking out. On the desk sat a tall stack of manila folders that looked hastily thrown together, and the two chairs on the other side were occupied by a stuffed backpack and a suitcase. A nearby trash can overflowed with candy-bar wrappers and tissues.
Ms. Tonks had turned around to face the window, supposedly looking at something, but Harry could see her reflection in the glass—she was actually dabbing her eyes.
"Uh, hey, Ms. Tonks," Harry said. "I'm here for the two o'clock meeting?"
She cleared her throat. "Err, right. Of course, sorry. I lost track of time watching My Strange Addiction."
Turning around, she forced a smile. Her makeup was mostly gone, revealing puffy redness around her eyes. They looked bloodshot but were still strikingly hazel. Her dark eyebrows contrasted with her shoulder-length black hair, which was held in a slightly messy ponytail, loose strands tumbling down. She wore a black blazer over a white shirt that had a chocolate stain just beneath her breasts, though she couldn't see it from her own angle.
Ms. Tonks jabbed a finger at her phone. "Ugh, that woman on the show would not stop crying! I mean, when you eat dirt, of course your family is going to stage an intervention!" She let out an awkward chuckle, and Harry tried to match it.
"Right. I've seen a few episodes of that show. Something about seeing other people's problems makes me feel better about my own."
"Exactly." She gestured toward one of the chairs, then realized it was occupied. Her eyes widened. "Oh, right! Um, you can just put that backpack…" She looked around for somewhere to set it. "You can just hand it to me, I'll kick it under my desk."
"It's fine. I don't mind standing. This shouldn't take long."
"Sure. Well, how's the year going for you so far?"
Harry could only think, A hell of a lot better than yours. Between hooking up with his neighbor and one of his teachers, it was shaping up to be the best week he'd ever had. Not that he could tell Ms. Tonks any of that.
"Great!" he said with a shrug. "I've been keeping up with my homework, making friends, eating more than I should. You know, the freshman experience."
"I'm glad to hear that," she said, with genuine warmth. Whatever her own problems, she seemed pleased that Harry didn't share them. Suddenly, she frowned and looked down. "Um, Harry? Are you staring at my breasts? I shouldn't have to tell you how inappropriate—"
His cheeks blazed at the accusation, and he quickly cut her off before she could run with it. "You have a stain, just there," he said, pointing.
Her jaw fell open, the hostility in her expression vanishing. She looked down, saw nothing from her vantage point, then pressed one arm over her chest to push her breasts up so she could see beneath them.
That motion only emphasized her cleavage, pale and smooth, but Ms. Tonks was too distracted by the chocolate mark she finally discovered to notice where Harry's gaze had drifted.
"Ugh, I can't believe I did that. These damn things are always getting in the way!" She grabbed a napkin and tried to dab at the stain, her chest shaking with every motion. Finished, she glanced at him again, and he just knew his face was still bright red. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have accused you. I've put on a few pounds recently, and it all goes to my chest," she laughed.
"It's fine. I'm sure you get a lot of guys staring, so it must be annoying."
Her lips curled into a smile. "You think so? I admit, it happens, but no more than any woman, I suppose."
Harry doubted that. Ms. Tonks was gorgeous, probably in her early forties, and even with all the hot young college girls on campus, she'd still turn a bunch of heads wherever she went.
"Anyway, I see you've chosen Creative Writing," she went on, gesturing to her stack of notes. "I guess you want to be an author?"
Despite his earlier dread, it was almost a relief to switch gears back to the reason he was there. With all the jiggling and talk of her breasts, he was sure to get in trouble if the conversation stayed on that topic much longer. The last thing he wanted was to be kicked off campus for looking like a perv in front of his guidance counselor.
"Yes! Specifically a romance author. I think I have good story ideas, my writing and characters could use some work."
She nodded. "Ah, so you're here to hone your skills and meet people in the process."
Harry braced himself for the usual fight. If she tells me to be an English teacher, I'm out of here.
But Ms. Tonks's smile only widened, her expression growing dreamy. "I think that's so great. There's far too little romance in the world these days, and any man who works as hard as you do to understand it would be a fine catch indeed. I'm sure you'll have the girls at this school eating out of your hand soon enough."
You have no idea, Harry thought, recalling his recent luck.
He chuckled. "I've, uh, had some luck lately."
She leaned back, looking more relaxed. "Good for you! That's what being young is all about. Love! You're putting yourself out there, and the world rewards you in turn." Her face darkened briefly. "I wouldn't mind having that again, myself."
Sensing a darker turn to the conversation, Harry tried to brighten it up. "You're still a beautiful woman, Ms. Tonks—if you don't mind me saying. Any guy on campus would be thrilled to get your attention, and I don't just mean the faculty."
"You're very sweet," she said, blushing a bit. "Thank you. But every day I see these college girls in their tight leggings and perky bodies, and I'm reminded how past my prime I really am."
"That's nonsense," Harry said. "Like you told me, you just need to put yourself out there and let the world reward you."
She laughed. "Okay, I guess I deserved that. I'll try to be more positive, Harry. Well, it sounds like your year is off to a great start, so there's really not much else I need to address. If you ever want to change a class or need some advice, I'm here. Don't be a stranger."
There was a certain warmth in her tone now, a suggestion that she really did mean it.
"I won't. To be honest, the guidance counselors at my high school were pretty terrible, so you're a breath of fresh air. I'll see you soon." Harry gave her a small wave as he turned to the door.
Ms. Tonks wagged her fingers in an almost girlish wave, her eyes brightening in a genuine smile. "Bye," she said softly.
Just like that, Harry felt even more optimistic about his future at this school. Sure, Ms. Tonks clearly had her own struggles, but Harry sensed she was an amazing woman, and he looked forward to getting to know her better.
Harry's heart sank as he read the word "rescinded."
The only reason he could afford such an expensive college was the numerous grants he'd applied for. His philosophy had been simple: throw shit at the walls and see what sticks.
A lot of it stuck. He'd heard once that plenty of grant money went unused because they either got no qualifying applicants, or none at all. What did he have to lose? The worst that could happen was a rejection letter, right?
Wrong.
The worst that could happen was an acceptance that covered a quarter of his tuition suddenly disappearing because the grant organization realized his major didn't qualify. He hadn't lied on any of his applications; they knew he was going for Creative Writing.
They explained it as an oversight on their part. The money had already been dispersed for his first semester, and they wouldn't ask him to pay it back, but they wouldn't continue funding his education.
Harry crumpled the paper between his hands and chucked it into the trash, shouting a curse. Even with that help, college was fucking expensive. Now, he had to scrape together an extra four grand per semester or he wouldn't be able to stay in school. Student loans were an option—just a terrible one. He didn't want to start his life drowning in debt.
So, Harry had to find a job after all. With his full load of classes, that was going to be a goddamn problem. He'd just have to make it work somehow.
As he searched through the school's online portal for job listings, he only got more depressed. He'd already applied to all the jobs that actually interested him, and not a single one had replied.
His mind drifted back to the library assistant position. He fucking loved books and often did his homework there, so it seemed perfect. His application had apparently been ignored, but maybe there was something else he could do.
He was desperate and impatient, and it was a Sunday. With his homework finished, Harry had nothing better to do, so off he went.
The library was located at the center of campus, one of the largest buildings around. It had rows of empty tables for studying, a massive reference section filled with old, preserved tomes and academic journals, a café on the first floor, and a room that stayed open all night.
As he walked around, he only saw other students behind every counter. Maybe they could put in a good word for him, but Harry wanted to find a real librarian—someone who worked there permanently and ideally handled hiring.
He searched every floor: four above ground, two below. He saved the bottom floor for last, figuring it held the old, untouched works and saw the least traffic. After taking one step into the large room, his suspicions were confirmed.
The air smelled of old books and the faint tickle of mold. He didn't see a single person, but there was a quiet, rhythmic sound from a far corner—some sort of low humming. Worried about stumbling onto something awkward, he crept closer.
He found a woman in a long brown skirt and a tight gray sweater, her hips swaying as she hummed along to music in her headphones. They were large enough to cover her entire ears, so Harry wasn't shocked she didn't hear him.
Not wanting to scare her, he tried to figure out how to get her attention. She was so lost in her work—delicately flipping the pages of some old book—that tapping her shoulder might give her a heart attack. Judging by her old-fashioned clothes, she might even throw out a hip.
After a few seconds of indecision, she suddenly spun around and struck a pose, holding a ruler up to her mouth like a microphone. Her jaw froze half-open, and her eyes went wide with fright as she yelped.
Chapters 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13 and 14 are already available at Pat re on.
If you want to support me, read the next chapters of the story and more, I invite you to my
Patreo n .com(slash)BoobsHunter (Remove spaces)