Chapter One

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Harry Styles took one last look in the rear view mirror in his small car. He checked his appearance, which he had been doing all morning, and took in one last breath.

“C’mon, Harry, this is it. First day of teaching, going after the dream, just like Mum said…” Harry told himself, smartening his tie. He had spent the last few years training to be an English teacher, and now this was his first day, first job. To say that he was nervous was a complete understatement. He was fucking bricking himself. He had had little sleep last night, going over possible situations of what may happen on his first day of teaching. His mind had gone from students dying, to the classroom being burnt down. He had gotten so nervous, that he had rung up his Mum this morning, and now tried to channel her words of wisdom through his mind. With one last glance to the mirror, checking each brunette curl on his head, he grabbed his blazer jacket, his laptop case and the huge red folder full of reading prompts and worksheets.

He left the safety of his car and headed towards the huge school. Students were already bustling about, and Harry headed through to the staff entrance. He had been to the school a few times, and had gathered a good understanding of where the hall, staff rooms, and of course his own room was, but the rest of the school was a mystery. He sent a warm smile to the receptionist, before heading straight to his classroom. Well, he had thought that he had known where his classroom was, but it appeared that the amount of rooms and stairs had now completely confused him. He had been walking in circles. He rolled his eyes at himself. Forgetting his own classroom on his first day. Next all the students would die, he thought to himself. He was about to give up and go looking for the staff room, when he heard a couple of boys talking and a door opening.

“Jesus, Zayn, you’ll set the fire alarm off!” a hissed voice said, as Harry turned the corner. A sixth form student was stood in front of him, and looked panicked as he noticed Harry’s presence. He was stood leaning on the door to the boys’ toilets. He had wavy hair, slightly like Harry’s own, but a much lighter colour of brown. He had dark brown eyes, and his uniform was extremely neat. Sixth Form students had a pacific uniform, and that’s how jhe had realised they were sixth form students. Harry was a bit taken back as to what had been happening, but decided to ignore it.

“You wouldn’t know where ‘English Room 2’ is, would you?” Harry asked, feeling stupid for asking a student where a room is. The student in front of him nodded, but as he stepped away from the door to show where the room was, the door burst open and a young, blonde boy came bursting out coughing madly, followed by a thick cloud of smoke. Harry immediately frowned, and felt a lump in his throat. The students were setting the building on fire and it was the first day, he panicked to himself.

“Fucking hell…” the blonde boy’s Irish voice echoed through the hall, gathering himself. He must not have known that Harry was there, because the other student sent him a sharp look and quickly hit his arm. The blonde boy looked at him in confusion as to why he had been hit, then realised that Harry was stood in front of him, and started to quickly laugh awkwardly.

“I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t see you there…through all of the smoke…” The boy spoke again, his Irish voice as clear as day. Harry raised an eyebrow. The way this was going meant that this was going to be the first time he’d end up telling someone off. He wanted to make a good impression, and this probably would ruin that.

“Why is there smoke coming from the boys’ toilets?” Harry questioned, trying to find some authority in his voice.

“Smoke…what smoke…?” the Irish lad spoke up, but his friend rolled his eyes and rubbed his temples. The door opened once more, and an olive skinned student came out. He stunk of cigarette smoke, and Harry automatically guessed what had happened. The students had obviously been smoking on school premises, which wasn’t allowed on any account. His tie and top buttons were undone, and his blazer sleeves were rolled up, a varsity jacket underneath it. The boy looked around at his two friends, before turning to see Harry.

“Who’s this?” He mumbled to his two friends a little too loudly. The boy looked from his best friends, and back to Harry. His dark hair was in a perfect quiff above his head, and Harry could have cut himself on the boys’ sharp cheekbones. He had marbled, chocolate eyes, that looked like they could see deep into the secrets that Harry kept. Harry bit on his lip, before realising he was staring at a student.

“My name is Mr Styles, have you boys been smoking in the toilet?” Harry asked sternly, trying to tear his eyes away from those intoxicating chocolate pools. The Irish boy, and the brunette boy shook their heads quickly, although the dark haired one that was a magnet to Harry’s green eyes, looked down on Harry arrogantly. For some reason, Harry felt like he was the one in trouble.

“Then why do you all smell of smoke?” Harry said again, and the dark haired one rolled his eyes.

“Why should I answer to you?” he retorted, his low voice thrilling Harry’s senses. Why was Harry acting like this?

“Because…” Harry found himself stuck for words. Looking into this boys’ eyes was making all of his words come out in the wrong order.

“Are you alright sir? What’s going on here?” A deep, masculine voice boomed from behind them all.

“Nothing you need to be worried about, Mr Moore.” The rebellious boy answered, before folding his hands into his pockets and walking off. Who Harry now knew as Mr Moore, put his hand out in front of the boy.

“No smoking on the premises. You can go to the head teacher’s office for first lesson.” Mr Moore’s voice boomed, and he removed a cigarette that had been placed on top of the boys’ ear, before wafting his hand in a superior gesture that showed the boys’ they could leave and got to assembly. Mr Moore was past the middle-aged peak, a bald patch at the top of his head and a small pair of glasses were perched on his nose. He almost reminded Harry of Mr Scrooge.

“I’m Mr Moore, head of English. You must be Mr Styles.” Mr Moore introduced, now putting his hand out to shake. Harry nodded, trying to get the rebellious boy from his mind, and shook his hand. Finally, someone to show him to his room.  Mr Moore showed Harry up to his room, explained about when the changing of lessons were, and lunches and breaks, before going to leave the room. But, just before he left the room, he stopped and looked at Harry.

“You have a young man called Zayn Malik in your year 13 English Literature class. Be weary of him, if he does anything disrupting, then he will be kicked off the course. He’s quite the troublemaker, Mr Styles.” And with that Mr Moore left the room. Harry sank to his chair. Zayn Malik…he thought, biting on his lip, and putting the name onto the image of the boy that had been smoking downstairs. Zayn Malik.      

A/N: Cover on the side made by the absolutely stunning @TheToothFairy94! :) Make sure you check her fics, they're some of my faves!<3

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