seven.

The headmaster walks through the hallway hoping to get back to his quarters before someone stops him and brings up another issue. Another problem that needs to be solved even though he has done more than enough work today.

Luckily the classroom areas are completely empty as school hours are now over and the staff are also preparing to go home. Unfortunately, it is so silent that he can hear sobs and sniffles coming from the music room right at the end of the hallway.

He thinks about ignoring it and going home. The door is right in front of him and he's too exhausted to deal with whoever is in there and whatever it is that they are crying about. But he cannot bring himself to leave, so he pushes the door open and enters.

It's a student, crying on the floor next to the grand piano with her face buried between her knees. Her figure, her hair, her scent, it is all so familiar that he doesn't need to see her face to know exactly who she is. "Jane?"

Her head shoots up and she wipes furiously at her face with her sleeves. She stands. "I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't be here," she says. She sounds weak and tired enough for him to wonder how long she has been crying. And why.

He closes the door, approaching her.

"What's wrong?" He asks.

She shakes her head. "I just feel like everyone is angry at me. I can't blame them. I'm angry with myself too."

"Did something happen?"

"I had a fight with my friend, Charlie," she says. He sighs, shutting his eyes briefly and reminding himself to breathe. 'Charlie.' Of course it had to be her.

"I'm sorry to hear that," he replies simply.

"You are?" She frowns. "Aren't you mad at me too?"

"Jane, I can't afford to be mad at you. You're my student." He sighs again. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small folded cloth and handing it to her. She takes it hesitantly. "Thank you," she says.

'Of course he carries a handkerchief around,' she thinks, using it to dry her eyes.

"Pull yourself together," he commands. "You think Charlie deserves your friendship?" He scoffs.

Jane remains silent, trying hard not to cry again.

"Follow me," he says suddenly, leaving the room. Jane follows and he leads them back to his office. He shuts the door and beckons for her to sit on the couch.

He moves to the other side, opening up a mini fridge and pulling out a bottle of water. He gives it to her.

"I had a fight with Grace too," she says. "I shouldn't have blamed her," she adds when he doesn't say anything.

"You don't need friends that make you feel like shit."

She giggles. "You can't curse around students," she states. He smiles. "I mean it, Jane."

"You're right. They do make me feel like… shit. But Grace isn't so bad. She's smart and she doesn't let anyone push her around. Maybe if I don't mess things up with her I'll learn how she does it," she says.

"Your friend Grace is good enough for you," he says, folding his hands and leaning on the front side of his desk.

"You approve of Grace but not Charlie?" Jane asks.

"Yes. After all this time I think I'm a pretty good judge of character when it comes to girls your age," he replies. "Plus I'm older and wiser," he adds smugly. She giggles again. "Of course you are," she mutters.

"Drink it," he says, pointing at the water bottle in her hand.

"I've been struggling to open this for a while now," she admits.

He hadn't noticed. He's been staring at her face the whole time, taking note of how red her cheeks and the tip of her nose are from all that crying.

He walks over, taking the bottle and twisting the cap open with ease.

"Thank you."

She takes long sips, feeling the soreness disappear from her throat. He turns away and returns near to his desk to keep some distance between them. But it doesn't work because he is still fully conscious of the situation.

They're alone. Together. She's vulnerable and he has saved her from a moment of despair.

"Oh I should probably give this back," she says, showing him the handkerchief.

"Keep it," he says. "Although you might not need it if you manage to stay away from that girl," he adds dryly.

"I never want to see her again," she confesses. "Thank you for helping me realise that."

It's time for him to dismiss her and he knows it. What is he doing meddling in the affairs of his students anyway? He shakes his head at the thought of it.

But seeing her sit back in relief, a small smile on her face and less grief behind her eyes is like a gift. A moment he wants to remember forever even if he's not sure why.

"Feeling better?" He asks.

She smiles, fuller this time and so sincere that it warms him up on the inside. "Yes. I feel better."

He fights back the urge to smile back. To show something other than his strong, authoritative personality and make her feel even better by providing warmth because he is now fully aware of how much she deserves it.

She feels and she listens with all of her heart and she looks out for people. Even the worst kind. She's unlike anyone he has ever met before. She's feminine and pure and innocent.

Which is exactly why she should stay away from him.

"You should go," he says, even though the thought of her leaving almost makes him sad. Because her presence alone sparks that warmth and it seems a little early for it to end.

She stands. "I should. I hope I didn't interrupt anything, Sir," she says. It's back to the formalities now.

"Well, you did. I was on my way home. I just couldn't ignore… you."

She wonders what to say to that. Should she thank him? No, she already has.

Without another word, she leaves.