Somewhere in the middle
The first time Raven Reyes noticed how beautiful Professor Griffin’s eyes were, she was being shouted at for nearly burning down the Ravenclaw common room while working on one of her experiments. Raven stood in the middle of the charred common room, head down, sneaking peeks at the three professors surveying the damage. Professor Flitwick had fainted dead away at the sight of the smoking curtains, and so it fell to Professor McGonagall to read her the riot act.
“There are rules, Ms. Reyes. They are meant to keep you and your classmates safe! Poor Mr. Smith-Wesson may never recover from having his pajamas singed in his own common room!”
A snort from the side of the room halted McGonagall’s rant.
Professor Griffin had been checking Professor Flitwick’s vitals and gently trying to wake him, but the reminder of poor William Smith-Wesson’s ruined onesie was too much; she lost her composure and laughed.
“Sorry Minerva,” the brunette muttered, coughing to hide another chuckle. “I just never knew second years required bum-flaps.” Her warm brown eyes sparkled with mirth.
Raven ducked her head to hide her own smile, wincing as her bad leg reminded her that she’d been thrown to the floor by an explosion very recently. She gritted her teeth and clenched her fists to keep from rubbing at the soreness. She’d be in even more trouble if either professor realized she’d aggravated her old wound.
The Scottish woman turned bright red and cleared her throat. “Very well, Professor Griffin, if you find the situation so very amusing, I’ll just leave you to supervise the clean-up, hmmm?”
Professor Griffin straightened, struggling to hide a smile still, as McGonagall fluttered past her, flicking her wand to levitate a still passed-out Flitwick behind her.
Raven and the professor watched them go. Turning, Raven met Professor Griffin’s eyes sheepishly.
“I’ll buy him some new pajamas?” She said, shrugging.
Her professor laughed again, clapping her hand on Raven’s shoulder and squeezing lightly. “To be honest, Raven, I don’t think he’s half so unhappy about his pajamas as Flitwick is about his curtains.”
She winked, before drawing her wand and turning to the charred remains of a sofa. “All right, Reyes, get going.”
Raven rushed to get her own wand, pushing down the warm feeling she’d gotten in her chest when Abby had winked at her.
Er, Professor Griffin, that is.