Chapter 28

The next morning, dawn's light had barely begun to seep through the corridors as I found myself waiting outside the teacher's office. The night had been restless, thoughts churning and fears whispering, leaving their mark upon me in the form of shadows under my eyes and a desperation clawing at my chest.
I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, every moment stretching into an eternity until he finally appeared. His gaze landed on me; those bloodshot eyes betrayed nights as sleepless as my own. Clutching a cup of coffee like a lifeline, he squatted by the door, his posture mirroring the fatigue that seemed to hang on us both like heavy cloaks.
His presence, a specter in the dimly lit hallway, seemed to fold into itself, and I could scarcely draw breath to voice the dread that gnawed at my insides. My voice, when it finally emerged, was tinged with an urgency that echoed off the sterile walls.
"Mr. Hargrave, has the rune failed?" The words tumbled out, rough-edged and laced with fear. I searched his face for signs of reassurance, for any indication that the magic still held its protective embrace.
The silence stretched between us, fraught with unspoken thoughts. I pushed on, a frown creasing my brow as I grappled with the possibility of our secret coming undone. "Does it have an expiration date and need regular updates?" My voice barely rose above a whisper, yet it carried the weight of our shared experiences—the risks we had taken entwined in this arcane endeavor.
I could see the calculation in his eyes as he weighed the words that would come next. He took a slow sip from the cup, its bitter scent briefly overpowering the stale air of the corridor. The teacher set the coffee aside and rose to his feet, brushing off the creases in his pants with hands that had known the intricacies of ancient runes and the delicate threads of magic.
"Listen," he began, his voice steady despite the redness rimming his eyes. "Don't come to me unless it has failed." His interruption was swift, almost severe, slicing through my cascade of worries like a blade. There was a new distance there, a professional barrier resurrected amidst the complexities of our entanglement.
"Please," I murmured, the hum of fluorescent lights above us punctuating my plea. My gaze locked onto his, searching for any hint of the compassion that had once softened those sharp features. "There has to be another way."
His eyelids drooped momentarily, a shadow of vulnerability flickering across his face before he masked it with a frown. It was clear that the tumultuous nature of our connection weighed on him as heavily as it did on me.
"Every time you're near, it's like..." His voice trailed off, and he turned away, running a hand through disheveled hair. The intensity of his struggle was palpable, a mirror to the chaos that roiled within me since those dreams began invading my sleep — dreams that weren't just mine but shared, interlaced with desires neither of us dared to voice in the light of day.
"Like what?" I pressed on, inching closer, desperate to bridge the gap his words had created. "Tell me."
He glanced back, his eyes dark wells of conflict. "Like I'm standing on the edge of a cliff." His admission hung between us, stark and revealing.
"Then help me," I whispered, reaching out to graze his arm with trembling fingers. "We have to find a place... somewhere safe for the rune. Somewhere it won't draw attention."
Mr. Hargrave's clenched, and for a moment, he seemed to retreat into himself, wrestling with the implications of my request. When he finally met my gaze again, there was a resolve in his eyes that hadn’t been there before.
"Alright," he said, his voice almost a sigh of defeat. "I'll do it. But after this, we set boundaries. No more blurring lines."
I chewed on my lower lip, a nervous habit I couldn't shake off as I paced outside his office. The morning light did little to warm the cold dread settling in my stomach. My footsteps echoed too loudly in the empty hallway, mirroring the pounding of my heart.
"Sir," I started, the moment he emerged, his presence immediately enveloping me like a cloak, "we need to find a different place for the rune." I couldn't bring myself to meet his eyes, not after the vulnerability that had seeped into our last encounter.
He sighed, a sound heavy with unspoken words, and rubbed his temple. "Not in your mouth again? That's the most effective place."
"Please," I implored, lifting my gaze to his. The intensity I found there threatened to undo me, but I held firm. "It has to be somewhere...less visible. Somewhere only we know."
"Visibility is the least of our concerns," he countered, his voice low, but I could hear the strain behind each word.
"Then what about... here?" My finger traced an invisible line on my neck, right below the ear. "Or even behind the ear?"
He considered it for a moment, his eyes following the path of my fingertip before locking onto mine. "That could work," he finally conceded, "but you'd have to keep it covered."
"No one would ever think to look... inside my uterus." The words felt alien on my tongue, a stark invasion of privacy that clashed with the desperate need for protection.
For a moment, I thought he might refuse, the ethical boundaries finally too strained, even for this clandestine craft we dabbled in. But then, almost imperceptibly, he nodded.
A weighty pause filled the space between us, thick with the unspoken acknowledgment of what this entailed. I felt the air shift as I stood there, vulnerable, the gravity of the decision anchoring itself within me.
"Are you certain?" His question was more than mere formality; it was a lifeline offered, a final chance to retreat from the precipice upon which we teetered.
"Yes." My affirmation came out stronger than I felt, fueled by the raw need to end the nightmares that had plagued me since the last rune's power waned. "I'm sure."
He gave a curt nod, the gesture brusque, as if to cut through the tension. With careful movements, he retrieved the ancient tools of his trade, each one laid out with a reverence that belied their sinister purpose. The air grew thick with the scent of old leather and the faintest hint of herbs, the esoteric fragrance of magic that was both his gift and his curse.
My hands trembled as I reached for the button of my pants, the weight of my decision anchoring me to the spot beneath the worn sofa in his book-cluttered office. I could feel the cool air kiss my skin as I slid the fabric down my legs, the vulnerability of the act making me acutely aware of every sensation. My body folded into itself slightly, legs parting just enough, a silent invitation to proceed with the arcane ritual.
The teacher's movements were steady, betraying none of the turmoil that must surely mirror my own. His fingers brushed against the array of vials and instruments on the nearby table, finally closing around a half-empty bottle. The label, aged and peeling, faced away from me, its contents a mystery save for the knowledge that it was necessary for what came next.
There was a sanctity to this moment, an understanding that while our connection had blurred lines we never intended to cross, the power of the runes was our sole pursuit. He was the keeper of knowledge, the one who bore the responsibility of wielding such potent magic. And I, the afflicted, placed my trust in him utterly, surrendering to the necessity of this intimate incantation.
The chill of the lubricant startled me, a stark contrast to the warmth that had settled between my thighs. His hand, a silhouette against the soft light filtering through the blinds, was precise and unhesitating as it tilted the bottle. The liquid cascaded in a controlled stream, coolness spreading across my sensitive skin, preparing me for the intrusion necessary for the inscription of the rune.
His fingertips, slick with the substance, approached with an almost clinical detachment. I felt the initial touch, a calculated pressure that left no room for misinterpretation—it was not an act of passion but one of necessity. The runes held power, a promise of protection and strength, and his hands were the conduit through which such magic flowed.