Lustful Alchemy

12. CASSANDRA

I was aware of what I was doing? I would say yes. Do I regret it? Absolutely not.

If one of the women I've helped over the years to escape from violent men, to flee controlling situations, had seen me in class, I can imagine she would have called me a traitor. Not much different from what I would have thought just moments before, vehemently arguing about the legitimacy of Giulia Tofana's actions.

Yet, when I found myself with his hand on my face, his body pressed against mine in a scorching embrace, I couldn't help but yield to my instincts, becoming the boldest version of myself and playing along with his hunter and prey game. In that moment, I wished his hand would go further, his mouth descending on mine to bridge the mere centimeters between our lips. But I decided not to stoop to his presumption of playing by his rules: if he thinks he's the hunter, he's gravely mistaken. I have no intention of yielding to his desires; if things between us are to take a certain turn, then I want to be the one in full control, deciding when it happens.

Great resolutions, so why did I spend the entire weekend thinking about that fleeting moment and eagerly anticipating seeing him again? Why, every time I turned a corner in the castle, did I hope to find him in front of me and resume our game of glances and sharp banter? Not that I was unaware of his temporary absence; I heard him chatting outside the Faculty Lounge with Ronen about the need to go to London for a couple of days, to the Ministry, where he would instruct the new Auror team in Occlumency. At least, this explains why he's so elusive.

What I can't fathom is why on earth it was so easy for me to fall at his feet, prey to his charm. The fact that he's undeniably handsome is not a valid reason; I've seen plenty of handsome men, but I've never been yielding to any of them. With Sharp, though, it's different. Despite our undeniable differences, there's something about him that attracts me to the point of going beyond the rough edges of his character, knowing that it might leave me with more than just a scratch.

If I were to compare him to an object, I'd say he's like an old book, perhaps one of those Forbidden Section tomes: large, dusty, with a ruined cover, the title faded on its spine, worn away by time; a book that no one would feel like reading, but when opened, is a constant discovery, page after page, of a subject as dark as it is fascinating. Maybe that's what draws me in, as if we were two opposing magnetic poles: the desire to delve into him, truly know him, and discover why life has made him so gruff and averse to human connections. If only it was as easy to read into him as it is with books...

Another thing I can't figure out, and which I've been racking my brain over for the past few days, is why a former Auror, who still seems to command a certain respect and esteem, would end up teaching Potions at Hogwarts. Not in London coordinating some operations from headquarters, unable to operate actively in the field anymore; nor at the school teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, a subject more fitting to his past. Not that Dinah isn't capable, of course; I just find teaching Potions a rather peculiar choice, even though I'm aware that becoming a successful Auror requires being a skilled Potioneer. Yet, I'm sure it's not just that, that there's more to it; otherwise, he wouldn't spend all his free time, between lessons, away from the quarters, often skipping meals, locked in his classroom for hours on end.

With this question buzzing in my head for the past two days (if not more), I cross the Transfiguration Courtyard, heading towards Matilda's classroom. If there's anyone who can answer my questions, it's her. As always, the long wooden room, illuminated by the warm sunlight, welcomes me, as does the door to her office, open for anyone in need. I approach and knock to get her attention.

Matilda looks up at me and speaks, smiling: «Good morning! I was beginning to wonder when you'd come to see me in your Cassandra role rather than Professor Doyle».