But I WAS Paying Attention! (Oliver Michaels)

Aoife watched Professor Michaels as he taught. He was so very, very handsome. His eyes. His smile. Aoife wished she could sit in charms all day. She smiled shyly whenever he glanced her way. He probably didn't even know her name. She'd never spoken in class; she'd be too mortified. If he ever called on her, she'd probably just squeak. What if she gave the wrong answer? He'd think she was stupid! That would be terrible! Aoife smiled again thinking how wonderful it would be if she got the right answer and he told everyone how bright she was.

She followed his movements with her eyes. He had this way of making her feel like she was the only person in the room, even when he wasn't looking at her. There had probably never been a student who hung on his every word like Aoife did. She turned the page in her notebook to an empty page. She'd take notes on the back of the next page if she needed to take notes. What she wanted to do now was sketch Professor Michaels. She could do it, she was sure. She'd start with his eyes. She continued to listen carefully as she worked; when she was drawing or painting she looked for all the world like she was completely absorbed in it, but she was perfectly capable of multi-tasking. She put her quill against the paper and began to form her creation.

Aoife gained momentum as she worked, glancing up from time to time to get a frame of reference. He was so handsome that sometimes when she looked up she got lost in watching him again. She'd never be able to capture him completely, she knew. Her quill could capture the body, but never the soul. How could person draw such a brilliant sparkle behind someone's eyes or catch the charm that rolled off of him? She could come close, though. This was why she preferred to draw things over people. Drawings of people always seemed lacking to her, because she could never quite capture the person's essence. This drawing was coming awfully close, though. She had created something special here. She couldn't wait to show it to Colleen! This may have been the best drawing Aoife had ever done. She looked up at Professor Michaels once more and then bent over her drawing to put on those few final touches.

Oliver was stressed beyond belief. He didn’t know how he would survive for the rest of this week without having a nervous breakdown or something. His wedding was in three days, and he wanted it to be perfect, at least for the sake of his bride-to-be. Her first husband had been a scumbag, in Oliver’s own humble opinion. And if Oli had one goal in his life, it would be to show Cathy that she deserved everything he could give her. Martin had not appreciated her for who and what she was. But Oliver loved everything about her. And during their wedding, it was his job to make her feel like a queen. So the pressure of the whole situation left him feeling a bit on edge in these final days of being single.

It wasn’t his first wedding, either. But he had not gotten a divorce. His first wife had given birth to Ashton and then a few months later, had died of leukemia. It was the darkest time of his life, but he had been forced to continue on for the sake of his son. And now, over seventeen years later, Oliver was finally settling down again with someone he loved with his whole heart and soul. But it didn’t take away his fear for the actual wedding. He felt so young again...and a complete bundle of frazzled nerves. He worried that he was going to take it out on his students. He had already assigned more detentions this morning than he had for the entire term.

He stood in front of his young class of first years, attempting to explain the difficulties of charming items with severely different chemical compounds. He was worried his words were going straight over their heads, but lecturing was in the job description. So he continued, willing himself to finish and move on to the practical portion of the lesson. But that was when he noticed Aoife O’Brien working furiously on something that was clearly not an outline of his lecture. He cleared his throat to get her attention.

“Miss O’Brien, I would appreciate your undivided attention, if you please. Is that something you would like to share with the class?”

Now normally, Oliver was very laid back with his students. He smiled all the time and even shared the occasional joke with them. But today was not the day to push him, not with the stress he was feeling. He would have to warn Ashton to stay away if he didn’t want to be yelled at for no apparent reason.

Professor Michaels

Aoife's head shot up as she heard Professor Michaels call her name. Despite being buried in her drawing, she'd still been listening. Yes, of course she had. He was talking about charming different chemical compounds, and doing it quite well, Aoife thought. When she read it in the book, she couldn't quite understand it, but the way he explained it made perfect sense.

Her eyes went wide as he asked if she wanted to share her drawing with the class, and her heart galloped inside her chest. She didn't want to share it at all! She rarely showed off her drawings, except to her parents and Colleen and a few very close friends. She grabbed her notebook and held it tightly to her chest, hiding the drawing from view. He couldn't see! If he saw, he'd know she fancied him. Aoife would never be able to show her face again. Her stomach felt suddenly queasy, as though it were filled with butterflies... or maybe something feistier. Hornets, perhaps.

She looked around quickly, halfway to panic; the whole class was looking at her. She felt her face grow hot, the skin feeling suddenly tight. Her face was probably glowing bright red. The thought only served to embarrass her even more. She wanted to grab her books and run, but then she'd probably be in trouble. She wouldn't be able to make her feet move anyway. She certainly wasn't having much luck making her lips form words.

"I was... Only I..." Aoife couldn't think of anything to say that didn't sound stupid. What was she supposed to say? That he was so handsome she just had to draw him? She clutched her notebook tighter. He couldn't see what she'd been drawing. He simply couldn't. She continued to stare up at him, like a deer in the headlights, as she tried to stammer out a plausible explanation for her seeming lack of attention.

He really was not in the mood for this. Normally Oliver was calm, cool and collected. But today was not the day for his students to not listen. He walked over to her and without a break in his step, he took the paper she had been working on into his hands. He walked back around to the front of the class, but placed the page in his desk without a glance. He would talk to Aoife about it after class.

"Aoife, please come speak to me after class. Now, back to the topic at hand..."


***After Class***


Oliver watched as his students filed out, and with a circular motion of his wand, a chair was summoned to sit in front of his desk. He stood and looked at Aoife, then patted the seat gently, nonverbally asking for her to join him. From what he had seen in previous class periods, she seemed like a sweet, attentive girl. But if she was going to start letting her mind wander during his class, he wanted to put a stop to it now. He waited for her to join him, then he sat behind his desk and folded his hands, gently placing them in his lap.

"This is the first time I have caught you not paying attention in class, Aoife. And I must say, I am disappointed. I know you are a good student, and I believe very much that you enjoy Charms. At least, I do hope so. But when I see that my students are fiddling with things, or doodling on parchment, it concerns me. For example, this..."

He opened his drawer and pulled out the page he had taken from her. He had been ready to wax poetic about how unnecessary her little distraction was, but then his eye finally caught a glimpse of what it was. He surveyed the paper closely, then his throat went dry. It was...him. A picture of himself, staring back at the original. And he realized in that one moment that he had definitely made a mistake. Aoife hadn't been slacking, or trying to focus on things outside of the classroom. It was very much the opposite, in fact. It seemed that she had a crush. Or perhaps she just liked the angles of his face for her artwork, but he had a feeling his first guess was correct.

Well, now what did he say? He had most likely embarrassed her beyond reason, and now he felt like a heel. This was exactly why he needed daughters. Ashton was wonderful, but he gave very little insight into the female mind. Oliver sighed and placed the paper on the desk in front of his student. There wasn't much he could do for her besides chat with her. Hopefully that would be enough to make up for him acting like a complete prat.

"I apologize, Aoife. It seems that I may have been a bit hasty. Would you...would you care for some tea?"

Aoife didn't even protest as Professor Michaels took her drawing away. The only thing she could muster was a tiny squeak. Her face was even hotter now; she wished the floor would open up and swallow her. Maybe she could fall right through the center of the earth and end up in Australia where no one knew her. She felt her lower lip trembling a split second before her eyes filled with tears. He'd said she had to stay after class. Aoife had never had to stay after class before. Only the bad kids had to stay after class. He'd probably be cross. He'd probably shout at her. He'd probably give her detention. He'd probably hate her.

Aoife buried her face in the crook of her arms just before the sobs began. She didn't even care that she was probably disrupting class and that everyone probably thought she was a baby. One of her housemates put a hand on her shoulder and told her everything would be all right, but she didn't look up. She couldn't. She'd never be able to face Professor Michaels again!

By the time class had finished, Aoife's tears were spent, but she kept her face buried in her arm. As long as she did that, she wouldn't have to see how angry and disappointed Professor Michaels was. Maybe she could just hide here, like an ostrich, and never have to face him. That was stupid. Of course she would. It never even would have occurred to her to disobey him.

Only when she heard the door close behind the last student, did she lift her head. The walk to the front of the room to sit in the proffered chair seemed to Aoife to take a lifetime. Each step was a badge of courage. When she arrived, she sat on her hands, her entire body tense. Her feet didn't touch the floor, so she wrapped her ankles around the legs of the chair, wishing she could be anywhere but here.

Tears stung her eyes as he scolded. At least he wasn't shouting, but his stern words were heart-rending enough. Aoife hardly ever got in trouble, even at home, and it always made her feel awful - awful to know that anyone was cross with her, but especially someone she cared about. She so wanted Professor Michaels to like her and be proud of her, and now it was ruined. Everything was ruined! And it was all her fault. She knew she shouldn't have been drawing in class, but she was paying attention! She really was!

She swiped at the tears that ran down her cheeks, but it didn't help much. She hated to cry in front of him. Well, cry more in front of him. She wished she could be one of those people who never cried. He opened his desk to take out her drawing. For a moment the world seemed to stand still. Aoife stared at a stain on the floor. Maybe he wouldn't look at it. Maybe an owl would fly in the window and snatch it away from him before he saw it. Maybe... too late. He was looking at it. He would laugh at her. She would never be able to show her face again. She would have to leave. Maybe her parents would take her back to Mali. Maybe.

And then Aoife didn't understand what was happening. Did he just offer her tea? The picture was right in front of her. She wondered if that meant she could take it back. She didn't dare; didn't want to risk it if that wasn't what he had in mind.

Aoife screwed up her courage and looked up at Professor Michaels. He didn't look angry, she decided. She swallowed twice, waiting for the moment when she could trust her voice. She just wanted to grab her drawing and run, but she was certain she wasn't supposed to, and tea did sound nice. Her throat was awfully raw from all the crying she'd done.

Aoife nodded, her voice a whisper. "Yes, please."

Oliver still felt horrible, even after she had accepted his offer of tea. He had made the poor child cry. Since when had he become one of those awful teachers that made tiny eleven year olds cry? He could have kicked himself. His brother was the one that made people cry, not him. Oliver was always the one to pick up a younger or smaller person when they had fallen or hurt themselves. And now he had pushed little Aoife to the point where she was very nearly beside herself, it seemed.

"I am so sorry, poppet. I should never have called you out like that in front of the class," he began as he poured them both a cup of tea.

"I am not always the most perceptive man. I assumed you weren't paying attention, and I didn't even give it a second thought. I apologize. And I will take the blame the next time our class meets, don't you worry. But I won't tell them about the drawing. That can be our little secret, if you like. Though I must say, you are very talented."

He smiled somewhat nervously, then he passed her the cream and sugar along with her cup of tea. What did one say to someone who had a severely unrequited crush? And you just happened to be the object of that person's affection? Oli could say honestly that had he been twenty five years younger, he would have thought Aoife to be a good potential date. But as it was now, he was completely in love with Cathy. And he was old enough to be the young Hufflepuff's father. No, this would never do. He would have to think of some way to console her. All he had done so far was embarrass and torment her. Yes, he was most definitely a heel.

"Aoife...if there is something bothering you, I could maybe try to advise you. At the very least, I can listen. My son says I am usually a fair listener. Would you like to try it and see? Oh, and no judgement will ever reach you from me. I am here to help, child."

Aoife took the cup of tea nervously. She watched Professor Michaels to see how much cream and sugar he put into his tea, and she put in the same amount. She watched the milk make little cloudy shapes inside the cup, and blew away some of the steam. She stirred it slowly and took a small sip. It tasted lovely. Hot and soothing. It made her feel warmer all the way down to her toes. It was always so cold in the castle!

She sniffled a little and sat up straighter. Even though Professor Michaels apologized, Aoife still felt awful. She wanted him to know that she really was paying attention. She chewed on her lip. It was a nervous habit. Sometimes she chewed holes on the inside. She took another sip of tea to make herself stop and sighed. Charms was her very favorite class, and Professor Michaels was her very favorite professor. She practiced the charms a lot on her own, and was two chapters ahead in the book. She was good at it, too. At least, she hoped she was. She was the first one in her class to levitate a feather, and she was the first one to get the hang of a lot of the other charms as well.

Aoife sighed again. There was a lot she wanted to tell Professor Michaels. Tons of things. Like how Colleen was in Ravenclaw, and how much Aoife missed her. Or how much she missed her mum and dad. So much it made her tummy ache. Or she could tell him about how big the sun was in Mali, and how the animals all went crazy when it rained, and afterward, everything smelled so earthy and raw. She always imagined that must have been what the world smelled like when it was brand new. Like anything could happen, and might at any moment.

She reached forward tentatively and took her notebook off the desk, watching Professor Michaels carefully for any reaction. She clutched it protectively to her chest, hiding the drawing from view. She glanced down at it, and then glanced back at Professor Michaels. He'd said she was talented. Aoife blushed a little, thinking about it, and he hadn't laughed at her drawing of him. Maybe he'd like to see another one?

She turned a few pages back to a picture she drew a few days ago, of her mother. She'd just finished coloring it in this morning. It was in Mali. Most of the pictures she drew these days were of Mali. This one was of a memory she had - strong and clear - from when she was very small. Her mother was standing on the threshold of their house with periwinkle flowers in her hand. She had a wistful look in her eye, and wore a long skirt that blew in the wind. She shielded her eyes from the sun as she smiled at something in the distance. It was a raincloud, what she was smiling at. Rain was coming that day, and a good thing, too, for the red earth in front of their house was cracked and dry. The elephants could smell the rain in the air. In the background, they raised their trunks, sniffing. Aoife smiled a sad sort of smile at the picture. He mother was the most beautiful woman in the world. She was sure of it.

"Can I show you another picture?" Aoife asked quietly. She thrust the notebook forward with shaky hands. She always felt nervous when she showed someone new her artwork. She was always secretly afraid they'd say it was horrible, but she had a feeling Professor Michaels would never say anything like that. He was far too nice. Aoife looked into his eyes. They were so beautiful! He was so handsome! She smiled. "That's my mother, back home. Well," Aoife corrected herself even more softly, "it used to be home. We had to move when Colleen and I started Hogwarts. Do you know Colleen? She's my sister. She's in Ravenclaw, and they made me go to Hufflepuff."