Chapter 15

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6th year

Classroom 1B was full of students with crimson and blue ties around their necks. Some of them – being genuinely interested in Transfiguration – sat on their seats with a perfect posture as they kept their eyes fixed on the Professor, however, others found it hard to keep their eyes open as they rested their heads on the table.

Mia was staring at the Professor with squinted eyes, focusing on her every word when a piece of parchment landed on her desk. She furrowed her eyebrows, then read what was on it. She let out a frustrated sigh, then put one of her hands in the air, gaining the Professor's attention.

"Yes, Ms Malfoy? Is there a problem?"

"I'm deeply sorry for interrupting you, Mrs Watkins, but I must say that James Potter is bothering me again, therefore making it extremely difficult for me to pay attention to your amazing lesson."

"Is that so?" The woman put a hand on her hip. "What did he do this time?"

"He sent me a note, Professor."

"Really? And what might be so important for Mr Potter to say that he couldn't wait until the end of my lesson?"

"He didn't actually say anything, he wrote me a poem," she explained, making the other students snicker. "Or at least I presume that that's what he attempted to do, although if I was a poet myself, I would consider this work of his very offensive towards poetry."

"So Mr Potter is a poet now, I see," the Professor raised her eyebrows. "Interesting."

"I can read it out loud if you want," Mia offered.

"Oh, please do," Mrs Watkins nodded, supporting herself on her desk.

The Ravenclaw cleared her throat, then looked down at the parchment again.

"Roses are red, Transfiguration is boring,
I think I can hear Isaac next to me snoring.
I'm sad because Watkins won't stop talking,
The cause of my death will surely be yawning.

The thought of you is what keeps me going,
The back of your head I can't stop adoring.
Hopefully, this poem will turn out rewarding,
And the two of us will now start talking.

Running after you is kind of exhausting,
But – to use your term – I can't stop stalking.
I hope this doesn't sound too alarming,
In my dreams, it's your body I'm exploring.

For your touch, oh, I am longing,
I honestly can't wait for us to start boning.
My gestures, you should stop ignoring,
We both know you think I'm charming."

By the time she finished, all the students were laughing – some of them also started clapping –, but the Professor had a frown on her face.

"Thank you, thank you," James bowed his head with a proud grin.

"Yes, very impressive, Mr Potter," Mrs Watkins nodded. "Maybe I should send a copy of your work to your father to see what he thinks about you writing this instead of paying attention to my lesson."

"I don't think that's necessary, Professor," he protested quickly.

"No? Alright, then. I suppose detention will have to do."

"Detention?!" James asked back in disbelief. "But I just made the class a hundred times better!"

"Perhaps you should be the one teaching, then," she gave him a displeased look.

"Perhaps I should be," he blurted out, making her scowl at him. "Ah, I didn't "

"Fifty points from Gryffindor."

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