An Appointment (Grayson)

Exam seasons were easily Adelaide's favorite time at Hogwarts. Not the period leading up the exams full of frightened students and excited Ravenclaws. No, the exact time the papers were being given out by the invigilators and the students were siting quietly at their desks, the only dominant sound in the whole castle the nervous scritch-scratching of sharp quills on fresh parchment.

If only the school remained this quiet all year long.

But alas, the redhead did not have time to enjoy the peace and quiet brought about by terrified children afraid of judgement. Today she had an appointment with the librarian, Grayson Hughes. Though her own class, she had referred many students to him to go learn how to write an essay and the man himself had taught a class in the winter term. The feedback from that class now rested in his permanent file which she perused through a she waited for him.

Over her two years at Hogwarts, Adelaide Goshawk had not come to like the job any better. What was worse, her deputy had chosen to conveniently fall ill, leaving her in charge of administrative work she could stomach and students she certainly could not. Sadly the package the Runes' professor had negotiated before his appointment was air tight and gave him as much sick leave as he needed.

Which meant the Headmistress in a bit of a pickle. And Adelaide Goshawk hated pickles.

Grayson was a bit surprised to be called to the headmistress's office. He was used to minding his own business for the most part, and generally didn't spend much time doing anything outside of his librarian duties. He knew the headmistress had met with several of his colleagues at the end of last year--many had been laid off, and a few had been promoted. He wondered what she could possibly want with him. Of the two options...well, he couldn't say. He didn't feel particularly deserving of either.

As the time approached, he tidied his desk and left the library, making his way to the headmistress's tower. The castle was quiet, almost eerily so, as exams took place in every classroom. The sound of scratching quills and rustling parchment followed him down the hallway.

As he got to the stairs leading up to the office, he gave the password and looked at his watch. He was a minute early, but that was better than a minute late. He made a point of being punctual. He stepped onto the moving staircase and was lifted to the top, coming to a stop at the headmistress's door. He knocked quietly, three times, and waited to be admitted, his hands clasped gently behind his back.

Adelaide appreciated punctuality, it meant she didn't have to waste her extremely precious time waiting on other people. So when the knock came sharply at its designated time, she was already beginning to form a somewhat favorable view of he librarian.

"Enter," she dictated after having put away his file in a discrete drawer under her desk. As protocol dictated, she rose from her seat, reaching across to offer a handshake to the handsome young man entering through her doors. "Please, have a seat," she invited, her usual polite smile in place that gave away nothing in regards to the tone or purpose for the meting.

"I hope I haven't inconvenienced you too greatly by sending all those... students your way. It seems both penmanship and structuring a good essay have become lost arts." The way she emphasized the words "students" made her opinion of children very clear to the man. No that she ever envied his position. Exam time for a librarian had to be the worst with all the children trying to check out every book they could hoping to study in one week what they hadn't all year.

"May i offer you some tea? Biscuits?"

At the headmistress's voice, Grayson stepped into the room and softly shut the door behind him. He crossed to her desk, shaking her hand before taking the offered seat across from her. Despite himself, he felt a little nervous. While his face and body language remained calm, his heart was beating a little faster than usual. He had no idea what he'd been called here for, and there were just as many bad reasons as good ones.

He tilted his head slightly at her intonation of the word "students." She had made quite clear over the past two years that she didn't think highly of the children under her authority, something that seemed a bit worrying to Grayson. He had heard from some of the students she'd sent to him that her teaching methods were harsh and unsympathetic (some may have used stronger words than that), and he hadn't been surprised. Still, he supposed such a style had its merits. He just personally wouldn't go down that road, especially when teaching eleven-year-olds.

"It hasn't been an inconvenience at all," he said truthfully. He quite enjoyed taking a break from the monotony of his librarian duties to help out students with their writing.

"And, well...Hogwarts has never offered an English class," he said with a slight smile. It was somewhere between a joke and an explanation. He didn't blame the kids for not knowing how to write an essay--they'd never exactly been taught. But perhaps this wasn't the right time to discuss such things. He was not being critical, simply standing up for the students he'd come to care for.

"Tea would be lovely, thank you."

At Grayson's quip about Hogwarts not offering an English class, the headmistress raised a perfectly threaded eyebrow. The man was young so she supposed it wasn't his fault for being subject to these dangerously modern ideas that absolved households from all personal responsibility when it came to raising children. Hogwarts did not offer an English class, nor did it offer a class on mathematics, dining etiquette or civic mindedness. Suffice to say a school should not be student's only avenue of learning, and Hogwarts was built on exclusivity.

"I would point our that some arts should be learned from one's home, but I fear households are rarely run as they were back in the eighties." Her tone suggested that this was a great shame. "t was considered the parent's duty to teach their child the basics, school simply functioned as a polishing tool. Nowadays, it seems educators are required to raise the children as much as provide them with information."

Adelaide left it at that. While a debate was enjoyable, there was no time for it at present. Once the librarian was seated, the woman opposite him got to the point.

"I must admit part of the reason I invited you here today was to congratulate you on the successful home economics class you ran in the Winter Term. I've received favorable feedback from both the students and the school board, you must tell me your secret one of these days." A polite, insincere laugh followed. Nothing in her strove to be a better educator, in fact her dearest wish was to have Global Citizenship stricken from the syllabus next year.

"How did you find the experience of teaching?"

Grayson inclined his head as if to say "fair point," and didn't push the issue further. While he agreed that some things should be learned at home, he also knew that saying something should happen and saying something did happen were two very different things. His personal philosophy was to work with what he was given. The reality was that he couldn't actually expect most parents to teach their children how to write an essay, so in his mind, the next logical step was to teach them himself, not to reprimand their parents or bemoan the loss of traditional values. Still, he was fairly certain he was not called here for a debate, so he let the headmistress get to the real point.

At the headmistress's congratulations, his eyebrows lifted slightly in surprise. So this meeting was to be a positive one. He relaxed inwardly. He met her laugh with a slight smile, but her suggestion that he tell her his secret was dismissed as a polite nothing. From what he had seen of the headmistress, she was certainly not looking for approval from her students.

"It was nervewracking at first," he said honestly. "But ultimately rewarding."

He was beginning to see where this meeting might be headed, and wasn't exactly sure how he felt about it.

Adelaide could never understand what teachers found so rewarding in their line of work. But then again, she supposed one had to like children to begin with in order to find any measure of their personal progress rewarding. She had never made such a connection and so only knew of this alien feeling through the telling of others.

Regardless, she was glad to hear the librarian had enjoyed his stint as a teacher, it might make what came next more bearable. "Well, that's encouraging," she relied, once again her polite mask perfectly in place. "I've been going through your employee evaluation papers and I'm happy to announce everything is in order. The library has been in the best shape its going to get, the students and other staff members have nothing but good things to say about your work ethics and even the ghosts insist they like your presence - which is high praise from my understanding of the departed here at Hogwarts." While ghosts didn't technically get a say on matters of employment, they liked to make their opinions heard nonetheless.

"Are you per chance aware of Professor Kesslar's poor health these days?" she asked, broaching the subject this appointment was arranged around. "Though we wish him the speediest of recoveries, it seems his healers would not recommend he return to work just yet."

Grayson relaxed further as the headmistress continued. He was still mentally preparing himself for a "but," but it was looking less and less likely. He was pleasantly surprised at what the rest of the castle--students, staff, and even ghosts--had to say about him. He knew, of course, that he was doing a good job. He made sure of it; he set high standards for himself. He didn't expect anyone else to notice, though.

When she asked him if he knew about Professor Kessler's illness, he nodded. He wasn't entirely sure what it had to do with him, but he knew that the professor had been on sick leave for quite a while now.

"I was aware of his illness, yes. I understand he had taken on quite a few administrative duties this past year. His absence must be creating a fair bit of extra work for you."

He spoke with polite concern, knowing the headmistress was probably capable of handling it--she had handled her first year on her own after all--but that the loss of Andrei must at least be a considerable inconvenience. He wondered if she had called him here to help with some of it--he'd certainly be willing to, if that was the case.

"The administrative duties I don't much object to," Adelaide confessed, the first hint of sincerity warming her tone. Truth be told, the Headmistress liked technical work. Papers, contracts, signatures, addendum, clauses, those were all things she understood, even liked. It was things like children she didn't have a taste for. "But the lack of classes have been weighing our curriculum down." There was only so long until people started noticing the lack of a core NEWT subject.

"And that is why I would like to make you an offer," she continued, getting to the point because the time was now right. The social niceties had been dealt with and the polite inquiries made. "The school board would like you to come on board as a full time teacher - in a subject of your choosing as long as it is a core subject not currently taught at Hogwarts. the board is willing to make a year long contract with you with the option of renewing it should your performance remain acceptable."

And just like that, the cards were carefully laid out on the table for the librarian to see. Of course, Adelaide didn't have to point out the obvious perks. A better salary package, a higher step on the career ladder, a more esteemed position. And she would be foolish to point out the shortcomings such as the added responsibilities and dubious contract term.

No, she'd have to let him evaluate the offer on his own if he were to reach a conclusion.

Grayson nodded his understanding as she said she didn't mind the administrative work. She was a businesswoman, first and foremost, after all. When she mentioned the lack of classes, he realized what she wanted from him, and paid close attention to her next words.

The offer seemed favorable overall. He'd be able to choose his own class. He'd almost certainly receive a pay raise and several other perks--it was a promotion, for all intents and purposes. But it was quite a big decision, and there were many other factors that he needed to consider.

He had enjoyed teaching his one class during the winter term, but he didn't know if he'd be capable of handling an entire year. Teaching was a lot more pressure than his current job. And who would take care of the library? Perhaps that wasn't his most important concern, but it was significant to him--he was invested in his job, and the thought of handing it over to someone else was vaguely uncomfortable. Adding to that, the contract he was being offered sounded a lot less secure than his current one. He hoped there was more to it--he would like to read over something in print if possible before making a decision.

And then there was the matter of which class he would teach. He didn't feel particularly qualified in any one subject. Sure, he could hold his own in a lot of areas, but he was hardly an expert. Besides, he wasn't entirely certain what his options were.

"May I see a list of available classes?" he asked, both to see if there were any he was confident in, and to buy himself some time while he weighed his options more carefully.