Tom stood outside Professor McGonagall's office, tapping his foot nervously as he waited for her to allow him inside. His last year at Hogwarts was the hardest one yet and he planned on using his charm, as per usual, to convince the head of Gryffindor house to allow him to take his NEWT exams even though his grades weren't exactly satisfactory. Tom was so close to being done with his magical studies, but this one class has been a burden to him since his third year when he stupidly chose it as an elective.
You were heading back to the Hufflepuff common room from your Defense Against the Dark Arts class when you passed by the office where you overheard the professor talking to an unfortunate student.
"I'm sorry Mr. Holland, but if you do not bring up your mark, you will not be able to take the NEWT exam at the end of the term. Now, instead of relying on your reputation to get you through life, I suggest you find yourself a tutor," Professor McGonagall stated firmly, causing you to furrow your brow as you leaned against the cold wall of the corridor. She couldn't mean Tom Holland could she? The Gryffindor prodigy? Everyone knew about him. He was going to be drafted onto the English National Quidditch team after he finished his exams and there wasn't a boy in Hogwarts who didn't want to be him. You inhaled sharply when the door to McGonagall's office swung open, revealing the disheveled seventh year. He ran his hand through his dark curls in frustration and then his dark brown eyes fixed on you.
"What're you looking at?" He spat, obviously frustrated as he walked by you, bumping your shoulder as he turned the corner to head back to Gryffindor tower, causing you to drop your notebook on the ground. You bent down to pick up the book, looking up as you saw Tom retreating down the hall, his back still to you. You scoffed, standing up and brushing yourself off before continuing down to the Hufflepuff basement. Being a Hufflepuff, you were very kind natured and trustworthy. You weren't angry with the popular boy, just confused as to why he would be so mean to you. You quickly forgot about the encounter and your mind was adrift with thoughts of your recent Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson as you descended down the stairs to the Hufflepuff basement. When you reached the kitchen corridor, you turned the corner to find the barrels where the entrance to the common room was hidden. You took out your wand, looking in both directions to make sure you were alone, before tapping the second barrel from the bottom in the rhythm of Helga Hufflepuff. Once you retracted your wand, the barrel opened, revealing a sloped tunnel. You climbed in and slid down, landing in the .
"Y/N!" your friend, Y/F/N, shouted as she saw you wander away from the entrance. You smiled and went to join her on the couch by the fire, throwing your notebook on table next to you.
"How was Professor Sprout's class?" you ask, chuckling when you see dirt stains on her robes. She rolled her eyes, playfully pushing your shoulder.
"I hate herbology. Why in the world do i need to know about ? Like I am ever going to keep one of those," she groaned, wiping the dirt off her shoulder. "You had Defense Against the Dark Arts, right? What spell are we learning this week?" She raised her brows as she waited for you to answer.
"We are working on counter-charms. Nothing too special," you shrug, pulling your notebook back form the table and opening it to your most recent set of notes.
"I wish I was as good as you are at school. I mean you're already in advanced Arithmancy and advanced divination aren't you?" She sighed, leaning her head back onto the couch's backrest. You chuckled, leaning back as well.
"I'm not that great. I mean, I'm no ravenclaw, and besides, you get better marks than a certain someone I know," You bump her arm softly, hinting at the scene you just witnessed after class.
"Oh my god, you have dirt! Who is it?" She clapped, super excited about the new gossip. Just then, you heard the bell ring, signally that it was four o'clock.
"Fuck," you squeal, getting up quickly, "I'm late for quidditch practice!" you yell as you run to the entrance to the girl's dormitories, quickly making your way inside. You hear Y/F/N yell after you, but you're already at your bed, pulling your clothes out of your trunk. You changed quickly into your practice uniform, grabbing your broom as you headed back out to the common room. You wave to Y/F/N as you exit through the barrel quickly, passing by your prefect and a couple first years.
You made your way out to the practice pitch, seeing the rest of your team on the sidelines and the Gryffindor team on their brooms.
"What's this?" You question your team captain, Harrison Osterfield, giving him a surprised look. Harrison is a seventh year and was the second youngest seeker in the century, following Harry Potter, and he led Hufflepuff to the championship last year over Gryffindor, causing a bit of a rivalry.
"It seems as though Gryffindor thinks they have a right to the pitch today," he snuffs, making eye contact with Tom Holland, who also happened to be the captain of the Gryffindor team.
"There a problem, mate?" Tom asks as he lands his broom right in front of Harrison and yourself.
"There is, actually. We have the pitch today until six, Holland," Harrison growled, showing his more non-Hufflepuff characteristics.
"Well, I thought since you Hufflepuffs enjoy sharing so much that you wouldn't mind if our practice ran a little long." Tom smirked, shrugging his shoulders at his fellow seventh year.
"Well we do mind, actually. Maybe I should go and get Professor McGonagall and see what she has to say about it," Harrison threatened. At the mention of his head of house's name, you could see Tom become flustered again, just as he was outside her office earlier in the day.
"Now now, there's no need to get your knickers in a twist, Osterfield. We were just leaving," he scoffed, turning around to whistle at the rest of his teammates, telling him that it was time to head back to the dormitories. As he passed, you couldn't help but make eye contact with him, to which he responded by cocking his head to the side, obviously recognizing you from that morning. Your mouth turned downward in a face of disgust as you glared at him as he passed. You quickly forgot about the unpleasant encounter as you mounted your broom with your and took to the skies.
That night, after practice, you were resting in the dormitories with your cat, Kit, when Y/F/N entered the room with an envelope in her hand.
"What's this?" you inquire, sitting up on your bed.
"I don't know, it was out in the common room, addressed to you," she said matter-of-factly, handing you the letter. You were shocked that it was addressed to you. Maybe your parents had sent you something, although it is a little early for their monthly check in. You tore it open quickly, curious to see what was inside. The torn paper revealed a letter from Professor Vector, your Arithmancy professor.
Y/N,
I would like to speak to you about a possible job opportunity on grounds. You are one of my brightest students and have been selected by a wealthy family to tutor their son in my class. I hope you consider it, seeing as it would look great on an application to the Ministry of Magic and I'd love to see you further your skills in my class.
Regards,
Professor Vector
You groaned, feeling obligated to accept the job offer seeing as Professor Vector considers you one of her best students.
"What?" Y/F/N interjects, disrupting your thoughts.
"Professor Vector wants me to tutor some rich kid in Arithmancy. She says it'll look good on my resume to the Ministry of Magic and, plus, I'll get paid," you continue. Saying it out loud actually made it sound like a good idea. You could always use the extra money and your dreams of working at the Ministry may be fulfilled, at least in part, by this job.
"I think you should do it, I mean, you only have quidditch three days a week and you would still have plenty of time to study. It'll be easy money," she says, taking a seat on the end of your bed.
"I guess," you shrug, laying the letter on your night stand.
The next morning, you went to Arithmancy as usual, but you stayed after class to talk to Professor Vector about the job.
"Ah, Y/N, thank you for staying back. I assume you read the letter I sent," she said from behind her desk, not looking up from her mountain of papers on her desk. She moved a piece of her long brown hair behind her ear as she spoke, making you wonder how she can multitask so well.
"Yes mam," you nodded, fingers twiddling together.
"Well, if you accept the job, I will let the student and his father know today and you can hopefully start tutoring tonight," she continued, still focused on the papers she was grading in front of her.
"Yes, that should be fine," you answered, causing her to actually look up from her work.
"Fantastic," she smiled, which was unusual for her. "Meet Mr. Holland in the study hall tonight after supper. I assume that's a good time for you?" She inquired, but your breath hitched in your throat when you heard who your pupil was. Mr. Holland. Tom Holland, the arsehole who, just yesterday, knocked into you as well as disrespected your Quidditch captain?
"Y-Yes, okay." You managed to spit out, your voice not very trustworthy.
You dismissed yourself as she returned to her work, taking a deep breath as you entered the corridor to continue on to your potions class.
Well there's no turning back now you thought silently, mentally slapping yourself for agreeing to this stupid job.
That night came sooner than you would have liked, and at supper you couldn't help but think about where you had to go immediately after.
"What's up with you? You've been quiet all day," Y/F/N asked from across the table at supper.
"Oh, its just this tutoring thing. I have to tutor," you paused, deciding whether or not you wanted to include her in this sure-to-be disaster, "this...guy who is a total lost cause. I've just been thinking about how I'm to go about it." you lied. If Harrison or anyone on the team found out that you were hanging out with Holland in your spare time, you'd never hear the end of it and as much as you love Y/F/N, she was a blabber mouth.
"Oh, okay. I bet you'll do great though. You're the smartest person at Hogwarts in my opinion, and that includes Ravenclaw," she chuckled, causing you to crack a small smile.
You left the great hall, turning to ascend the stairs towards the study hall. You held two books in hand, Numerology and Grammatica and New Theory of Numerology as you entered the hall, scanning the room for him. You spotted Tom, sitting alone at the end of the table on the far right. You took a deep breath in and began walking towards him. You set the books down with a loud thud, causing him to look up from his notebook.
"You're my tutor? You've got to be joking. I thought I'd at least get a smart Ravenclaw, not a Hufflesnuff," he groaned, rolling his eyes at you. You considered yourself a mild-mannered person, but this boy was tap dancing on your last nerve.
"Look, I don't have to do this. I would be perfectly content if you failed and weren't able to take your NEWTs," you retorted harshly. Tom looked taken aback at your outburst, but there is only so much a Hufflepuff can take. You took his silence as a challenge to walk away so you picked up your books and turned to walk out of the room when you heard his voice again.
"Wait," he stood up with both hands on the table, "I'm...I'm sorry, okay?" he sighed, almost as if his body was rejecting the apology. You raised a brow at him, surprised that "sorry" was even in his vocabulary. "You don't understand the stress I'm under. I shouldn't have yelled at you," he continued, sitting back down at the table as you slowly inched back towards him.
"Look, I don't like this, but I gave my word to Professor Vector and your father that I'd help you. I am very good at this subject, so you don't have to worry. I know what I am talking about," you sighed, calming down as you took a seat across from him.
"Well you've already impressed me, I didn't think you'd have that kind of fire in you, being a Hufflepuff and all," he chuckled, referring to your outburst.
"Well I didn't think a Gryffindor would think he's such a know-it-all. I thought that was Ravenclaw's job," you snicked back, eliciting a real laugh to come from his chest.
"Well consider my lesson learned, darling."