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Post by ryan on Oct 6, 2008 16:29:20 GMT 1
Ryan had spent yet another boring day in class, which started with Potions, then went on to Herbology only to finish off with his favorite of all classes, Arithmancy. It wasn't that he didn't understand the material, he was pretty sure that if he put his head into it, he could easily pass this class. It was just that when he was confronted with numbers, everything started to spin and his mind went into overdrive.
Apparently the Professor had noticed too, because he had passed a letter onto him just after class. When he opened it, he groaned. The man kindly suggested (suggesting his ass, it was more of a demand really) to take up weekly tutoring with Professor Blake. Ryan didn't know the man, but he was willing to bet he wasn't anything like the interesting man who taught the subject to begin with.
Trudging up the stairs, he held the letter in his hand to show to this new Professor, knocking on the door and waiting patiently to be called in. He was just glad it was a Friday, and he could spend his evening in the Common Room after just one more hour of torture. |
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Post by tristramblake on Oct 6, 2008 23:45:24 GMT 1
Tristram was in a state of mild terror. All his research books had been stacked away at the side of the room - in size order, the smallest at the top, each book in the dead centre of the one below it - and his office was immaculate, as usual, only this time he’d been round and checked it at least 7 times, before sitting nervously behind his desk, not knowing what to do in the intervening time.
He was about to teach his first lesson. It wasn’t even a lesson, it was a tutoring session, but he was still scared out of his wits. This was it, this was what it had all been leading up to, this was what he’d wanted ever since he’d left school. And now he wished it wasn’t happening. It would have been so much easier if he could have just stayed in his room researching the whole time - what with a well trained nurse on constant watch, it was unlikely any of the teachers were going to fall sick and he’d need to cover their classes. But Abe had bullied him into it, threatening to set his guinea pig loose again if he refused.
Which was why he was sat behind his even-more-immaculate-than-usual desk, an Arithmancy book in front of him, waiting for his student to arrive. It was only one student, he told himself, just one. If he couldn’t cope with this, how did he ever expect to be a real teacher? But he had no idea what said student would be like, what if they moved his stuff around? Would he be able to cope. He knew that as a teacher he should be able to exert the authority to make them stop, but he wasn’t sure he’d be able to do that, especially if this kid was difficult. He didn’t even know what year or house they were in, just that they needed help with Arithmancy, and for some reason, Abe was unable to provide them with lessons himself.
So that was how he was sat, almost perfectly still, when there was finally a knock at the door. He jumped, but managed to keep back a yelp, biting his lip for a moment before regaining his composure and calling out “Entrez” The French word slipping from his lips before he realised what he’d said.
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Post by ryan on Oct 7, 2008 0:03:33 GMT 1
Ryan took a deep breath, vaguely registering the fact that the man had spoken to him in French - a language he hadn't heard for quite some time now. It brought him back to his gouvernante, who had helped him with most of his homework before he was sent off to boarding school. He had always been so fond of her, and she had meant more to him than either of his parents, though he still set about pleasing them.
Which brought him back to the reason he was standing in front of the wooden door. He took a deep breath, pushing it open and looking at the Professor sitting behind his desk. The whole room was horribly neat and perfect, but Ryan found that he liked it. It was always easier to think in a clean environment. Somehow clutter in the room made it seem like there was clutter in his head too.
"Evening, Professor Blake. Professor Grey sent me here for Arithmancy Tutoring." He handed him the letter, politely waiting to be asked to sit down. Looking around the small room, he briefly wondered if the other didn't feel horribly locked up in such a tiny room. He knew that he would.
Shifting from one leg to the next, he found himself wishing that the hour was already over. There was just one thing, one tiny little ray of hope that made him think maybe this wouldn't be the disaster he was expecting..
...The fact that Tristram Blake was incredibly hot. |
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Post by tristramblake on Oct 7, 2008 3:10:00 GMT 1
For a few seconds when the door opened, Tristram’s hart was in his mouth. Thousands of fears, worries and what-if’s ran through his mind, each one more terrible and outlandish than the last. He nearly had a panic attack right there and then, his breathing getting shallower and a little more out of control in the few seconds between telling the student to come in and actually seeing them.
Or seeing him, as it turned out. The boy didn’t look too frightening, but appearances could be deceiving, and Tristram’s breath was a little ragged. Fighting to keep it under control, he sat a little straighter in his chair, giving a nod when his new student told him the state of play. That was good. He didn’t seem to be forwards, or be showing any signs of someone who might be inclined to play havoc with his OCD. Still, he kept on his guard, and had to suppress a shudder when he reached out for the note that was being handed to him. It was probably his nerves, flaring up all his disorders, but he really didn’t want to touch it. But he was a teacher, he didn’t have a choice, so he took the latter and opened it, scanning quickly to learn that it was a Ryan Robins he was about to be teaching, who needed encouragement to apply himself more, and that Pickle was on standby if things went wrong.
Trying not to sigh, Triss refolded the note and slipped it into an empty desk draw, casting a quick scourgify on his hand under the table, barely mouthing the words. He hadn’t quite ever mastered wordless magic, not ever really needing to, but this was one circumstance he hadn’t planned for. If this boy - Ryan - found out about his disorders, he didn’t like to think what would happen. His face was a little flushed when he finally looked back at the boy, trying to fill his head with thoughts of Arithmancy rather than the terrifying scenarios that wanted to play through it instead. “So, Mr Robins,” He started tentatively, wetting his lips unconsciously as he tried to think how teachers went about phrasing things “I understand you have, erm, problems in the geometrical areas of Arithmancy?”
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Post by ryan on Oct 7, 2008 14:05:13 GMT 1
Ryan had been looking at him while the thoughts went through his head, taking him in with a curious glance and wondering what was on the others mind. He looked completely out of place in a school, to be honest. But Ry could relate to that. He often felt out of place, even in the Slytherin Common Room.
“I understand you have, erm, problems in the geometrical areas of Arithmancy?”
He nodded, smiling a little at the way the teacher wet his lips. It was rather cute to watch him, but he ducked his head and beamed down at his shoes instead, not wanting the man to feel like he was making fun of him. "I do, sir. It's not that I don't understand, when I'm in class I feel like I grasp the concept, but then I'm supposed to do it alone and it all just goes pear-shaped." |
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Post by tristramblake on Oct 7, 2008 17:22:13 GMT 1
Tristram’s brows pulled into a slight frown as the boy cast his gaze downwards. Was that a good sign? It seemed like it, sort of a subservient gesture. He couldn’t imagine that a student who was likely to wreak havoc would act in such a way, but then, maybe Ryan knew this too, and was trying to get him to lower his guard. There were so many horror stories of what was done to new teachers when they started at a school, it didn’t bear thinking about. He supposed he was slightly safer than someone who’d newly qualified, but his time at Beauxbatons hadn’t exactly been teaching experience, and the students behaved so differently over there.
Not that he’d exactly had that much exposure to the Hogwarts students, having still not actually taught any classes, but even at mealtimes in the great hall, the difference was obvious. Everything was so much louder, more rowdy, and definitely more frightening in the English school. He just hoped that Mr Robins turned out to be as meek as he appeared.
“Oh,” Triss said in response to the boy’s explanation “Um, okay then” He hadn’t quite been expecting that. If Ryan grasped the concept, then he didn’t need to teach it to him, and in that case, what did he need to do? He had a moment of sheet panic before it dawned on him that this way it was actually a lot easier. His hands only shaking slightly, he reached for the NEWT Level Arithmancy book he’d got ready and flicked through it for the page on Geometry exercises before spinning it round and sliding it over to the other side of the desk “Er, so, erm, if you work on those questions, then we can see where you’re going wrong” The last part came out a little garbled, in Tristram’s rush to get it said, and his face coloured again. Merlin, he was never going to get the hang of this.
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Post by ryan on Oct 7, 2008 18:46:15 GMT 1
Ryan looked at the book, his lips nearly forming a cute little pout. He was honestly not in the mood to do more Arithmancy, no matter how much he liked the teacher. And he really didn't feel like doing this now, all smushed up in a small room with an attractive man. Still, he nodded politely, looking pointedly at the chair in front of him. "Am I allowed to sit down, Professor Blake?"
He had kind of figured that if he wanted to get in his good graces he'd have to behave like the polite student he could be. Being cheeky and inappropriate would most likely lead to Tristram Blake hyperventilating. If only Ryan had known CPR, he wouldn't have discarded the idea straight away.
“Er, so, erm, if you work on those questions, then we can see where you’re going wrong”
Hurray. NEWT Level work. Ryan held back a groan, looking at the exercises and trying to think what he was supposed to be doing first. He knew a few steps to solving the problems, but which was the first? Honestly, it was all gibberish to him when he wasn't in class. |
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Post by tristramblake on Oct 7, 2008 19:24:42 GMT 1
When Ryan asked if he could sit down, Tristram had to focus all his energy into not blushing again - which was utterly futile, and he turned his eyes downwards, trying to concentrate on what the knots in his wooden desk would look like if they were all joined up. Tanking a shaky breath,, he managed to look back up at his student, who was still standing there, and expectant expression on his face “By-” He started, his voice coming out quite a few notes higher than it usually did. Clearing his throat, he tried again “By all means”
And then he was lost. What next? He’d set the exercises, there was nothing more for him to do. He couldn’t exactly just sit there whilst Ryan was working, could he? Maybe it would be alright for other teachers, but he didn’t think he’d be able to. He felt awkward enough as it was, the stirrings of panic still sloshing about in his stomach, his skin feeling too tight, and hot and cold all over. He needed to do something, something to stop him thinking, overanalysing everything.
Stiffly, uncomfortably, he stood up, the scraping of his chair on the floor sounding painfully loud to his ears. Looking at his pile of books, the one he wanted was about three quarters of the way down, but he couldn’t bring himself to get it out, then have to arrange the others again, he was feeling embarrassed enough as it was, as if Ryan’s eyes were boring holes into him. He didn’t even know if the boy was looking at him or not, but that didn’t matter. Hurriedly, he took the top book off the pile and sat back down, opening it at random and starting to read, before realising it was upside down. He screwed his eyes shut for a moment, feeling utterly stupid. He just hoped his student hadn’t noticed, and turned it the right way up, wishing the ground would swallow him.
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Post by ryan on Oct 7, 2008 19:34:38 GMT 1
Ryan had sat down gracefully, crossing his ankles neatly underneath his chair as he took a quill and some parchment from his bag. He hadn't brought any ink, since his ink bottle had opened up in his backpack a few years previously and the mess had been horrible. So he usually stole ink from whoever he was sitting next to in class. Pulling the book towards him, he ran fingers through his hair and sighed.
The simple principle of Arithmancy was easy enough, but when it came to special features, like using the Chaldean char of numbers rather than the normal one. When it came to reading the questions he often skimmed over them instead of really reading what he was supposed to do. Therefore it was difficult figuring out where to start.
A few minutes later, Ryan found that he was rather staring at the Professor, instead of doing his work. He'd had his book upside down at first, which was cute, though the fact that the Professor wasn't helping him rather irked him. He fought a retort about it down though, not wanting to be mean, but wondering why this was any different from doing his homework alone if the other wasn't going to even check what he was doing. |
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Post by tristramblake on Oct 8, 2008 0:20:56 GMT 1
Tristram was having difficulty concentrating on his book. He was more staring at the words than actually reading them and taking them in. He just couldn’t concentrate when he knew there was someone sat just across the desk from him. It was almost worse than if he had actually been interacting with him, just knowing Ryan was there, all the potential for things to go wrong twining itself with the tension in the air. If they’d been talking, he’d have been to busy making sure that he didn’t mess thing up to worry about the future, but as it was, anything could go wrong.
After a while, Tristram became aware of Ryan’s eyes on him. Nervously, he lifted his eyes to meet the boys gaze, and dropped them straight back down almost immediately. HE couldn’t cope with being stared at like that. For a moment, he couldn’t even think of anything else, just the feel of those eyes on him. What the hell was that about? People didn’t just go round staring at other people, things didn’t work like that. If he was staring, there was a reason. Had he worked it out? Had he realised why Tristram was different to all the other teachers, why he was vulnerable? Or was it something else? And if so, what? And wasn’t the boy supposed to be working?
Clearing his throat, Triss managed to force himself to look back up. There could be a million reasons why the boy was staring at him. Maybe he just didn’t understand the work. From where he was sitting, Tristram could see he had a sheet of parchment out, but nothing had been written “Erm” He said, having to avert his gaze again “Is there a problem with the work, Mr Robins?”
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