Page 5 of My Professor is a Demon

His lips quirked in what might have been almost a smile. "I believe that falls under Atmospheric Thaumaturgy, which isn't offered until spring semester."

We ascended the steps together, moving in surprising synchrony for two people of such different heights. A group of female students huddled under the awning watched us with poorly concealed interest. Their whispers followed us inside:

“I’ve never seen him with anyone else… always the blonde one.”

"He never smiles at anyone else like that..."

I felt my cheeks burn, even as I wanted to explain that this was purely professional. Mostly professional. Somewhat professional?

Inside, we paused in the grand foyer of Blackwood Hall, the umbrella dripping onto the marble floor. Despite being under its protection, my clothing was already soaked, my curls plastered to my head. Dr. Katz, meanwhile, looked like he'd just stepped out of an academic fashion magazine, not a drop of water marring his perfect appearance.

"You seem to have a talent for atmospheric timing," he observed, closing the umbrella with a swift motion.

"If by 'talent' you mean 'terrible luck,' then yes," I agreed, attempting to wring water from my hair. "I'm a meteorological disaster magnet."

His eyes followed the movement of my hands, something unreadable flickering in their depths. For a moment, I felt that strange connection again—like seeing past his perfectly controlled exterior to something ancient and powerful beneath.

"Your mapping session," he said abruptly. "I reviewed it this morning. Your lunar correlation theory is... surprisingly valid."

Coming from Dr. Katz, this constituted effusive praise. I beamed at him, momentarily forgetting my sodden state.

"Really? I was thinking we could extend the analysis to include gravitational effects on the ley line resonance patterns. I have some ideas about—"

"Dr. Katz." A sharp voice interrupted us.

We turned to find the Dean of Magical Affairs approaching, her perpetually severe expression even more pronounced than usual.

"Dean Winters," Dr. Katz greeted her with perfect professional courtesy. "How may I assist you?"

"The Faculty Affairs Committee meeting begins in five minutes," she said, her gaze flicking dismissively over me before returning to him. "Your attendance is required, as discussed."

Something like irritation flashed across Dr. Katz's face before his features settled back into polite neutrality. "Of course. I'll be there momentarily."

The Dean nodded curtly and strode away, heels clicking against marble.

"Duty calls," Dr. Katz said, turning back to me. "We'll continue our discussion on lunar gravitational effects during our scheduled research session."

"Looking forward to it," I replied.

He hesitated, as if wanting to say something more, then simply handed me his umbrella. "Keep this. The forecast suggests rain all afternoon."

Before I could thank him, he was striding after the Dean, his tall figure commanding attention even in retreat. Several students openly stared as he passed.

I clutched the umbrella, feeling oddly like I'd been given something more personal than mere rain protection. The handle was warm where he'd held it, and that strange energy still hummed through the material.

Throughout my next lecture, my mind kept drifting back to that moment in the rain—his arm around my shoulders, the strange energy connecting us, the almost-smile that transformed his intimidating features into something else entirely.

Whatever Oscar Katz was hiding beneath his perfect academic facade, I was becoming increasingly determined to discover it.

Oscar

The glare I directed at the Faculty Affairs Committee as they filed out of the conference room would have incinerated lesser beings. Two hours of bureaucratic posturing about curriculum standards—two hours I could have spent researching the ley line anomalies or, more importantly, figuring out how to keep Charlotte Evers off Hell's radar.

Charlotte. The image of her standing rain-soaked on the steps of Blackwood Hall refused to leave my mind. Golden hair darkened by water, sundress clinging to her curves, and that irrepressible smile undimmed by the downpour. The way she'd fit perfectly under my arm as I sheltered her with the umbrella, her supernatural energy signature reaching instinctively for mine.

I had a research session scheduled with her that started fifteen minutes ago. Professional detachment dictated I should cancel it, create distance between us rather than encourage the dangerous connection forming. Yet I found myself hurrying backto my office, anticipation building at the thought of seeing her again.

When I arrived, she was already waiting outside my door, perched on a bench with a book in her lap. She looked up as I approached, her face brightening in a way that sent an uncomfortable warmth through my chest.

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