He had liked it.

The next following days, I had practically been glowing with smugness, after my recent talk with Harry.

All this time, he had liked me. Back in the summer, he had secretly been attracted to me, but out of respect for me and what his brother had tried to do to me, he had stayed clear of me. Or at least tried to.

But he had secretly enjoyed all my naughty advances.

I smiled at the ground as I walked across campus, lost in my own thoughts on my way to class.

Harry was a gentleman in every aspect, but, as I had been right in my deductions back then, he was first and foremost a man. And when the object of his desires had sat naked on his lap, pressing her breasts against him, it had been too much for even him to resist.

– He had enjoyed the show, even if it tortured him to watch.

Grinning to myself, I couldn't help but also feel a small ache in my chest as I thought about the other piece of information he had let drop.

How he had admitted to wanting me.

It might not have meant much, might not have meant what I thought it did, but to me, it was everything. Back then, I had always wondered if I was the only one who had wanted what we were doing, or if he was simply just playing along—but now, having heard his confession, I knew one thing.

– He might not have wanted me romantically, but he had craved me sexually. And that was something no other woman in his vicinity could say.

Not even Catarina.

Her warnings the other day, when she talked about how Harry never seemed to take initiative, how she had always been the one to come to him—she had assumed that he had done the same to me, and he had, but for reasons I now saw were very different.

He might've liked Catarina for her brain, but not her mind. He had never craved her sexually. He saw her for what she truly was in the end and it repelled him.

But he had liked me for my mouth. For my innocence, for my boldness, for my persistence and for my vulnerability. Attraction could come in many forms, and for these things, Harry had been compelled to me. He might not have loved me, but for the first time in his life, he had wanted a woman enough to break down his walls.

To give up his virginity.

That very notion had brought a special warmth to my heart as I now stepped into class, ready to sit through another grueling lecture by Harry. I unwrapped my scarf and felt how my heart started beating with anticipation as other students entered, groaning as they too knew what was to come. But I couldn't focus just yet.

Harry had liked me enough to show me that side of him, and yet... with all the things he had spoken that day, one mystery still remained. Actually several.

Why was he here? Why had he acted so coldly towards me in the beginning? Why was he still trying to keep a distance, trying to create a gaping space between us?

The answer; Because he still doesn't love you and he doesn't want to give you the wrong impression.

"Good morning, class."

My bittersweet thoughts were burst as the voice of the man who I had just been thinking about entered the classroom. I looked up and saw Harry walk up to his desk, wearing a brown-beige suit today with a cream-colored tie. He adjusted his glasses as he set down his suitcase, receiving a half-assed good morning back from the classroom.

His eyes veered up to the crowd at the sound the unenthusiastic greeting. He scanned the room with a pensive look, finally stopping at me. I stared back and saw him press his lips together, before slowly turning around, facing his desk.

"I gather most of you think this class is a bore," He then suddenly accused. The whole class perked up, though falling silent in shame. "That using old fashioned tools is annoying and that I'm being unreasonable banning electronics."

I heard my side-person scoff quietly, a testament of agreement. I looked around and noticed several others nodding silently, agreeing to Harry's proclamation.

Harry now finally turned around and looked at the class, taking a seat up against his desk. He crossed his ankles and looked around at the crowd with a penetrative stare.

"You're here to learn math," He then announced, meeting us with a firm glare. "You all signed up for these classes because you want to get your various degrees, and for that, you need math. The problem is, I cannot teach you what you do not understand. What you've never been taught to understand."

"Where the hell is he going with this?" My side-person whispered to her friend. Her friend shrugged, looking just as oblivious, but me, who had been privy to several of these lectures from Harry, knew something was about to go down.

"You use your phones every day to text each other, no?" Harry asked, looking across the room to see a few people nodding again. "You communicate through emojis, through modern slang and incomprehensible abbreviations."

I couldn't help but quell a little smile at the annoyed tone in his voice. And here I thought the man hadn't even heard of emojis.

"You've all learned to understand what these things mean, what each little symbol stands for; A whole generation in agreement that these communications all boil down to one meaning."

I saw the class look around between each other, all looking as equally confused as the next. But as I looked back at Harry, I saw him now stand up and fold his hands behind his back, staring over the rim of his glasses at his class.

"Math is a Language," He then begun. "From the early ages of school, we're taught the rules of how it works, or at least that's what I expect. For example," He now turned towards the chalkboard behind him and wrote a simple equation; "1+1=2. Basic math; We write it like this, because that's the easiest way to understand it. However, something happens when we start to add more flesh to it."

He once again turned towards the blackboard and now wrote a new equation. Still understandable, yet a bit more difficult than before. The only difference was, instead of stating the numbers side by side, he stacked them on top of each other.

"Now look at what we've got," He said, pointing to the equation. 424+184," He wrote a line beneath it and turned towards the classroom. "The language became too hard for some brains to calculate side-by-side—but, the instant we put it below each other, it once again becomes comprehensive for us to easily calculate. We all understand this, because it's what we all agreed on. This is the way math works, just like any language."

The crowd suddenly seemed to murmur quietly amongst each other, my side-person even muttering a quiet "wow" as the pieces slowly fell into place. I looked around again and saw several people nodding again, eyes slightly widened at Harry's logical explanation.

This was the math I had read. This was the math he had given me in his little black book, the one I knew laid inside that suitcase, brimming with even more mind-crushingly amazing math-solutions. And that's when I knew what was about to happen.

Harry Devon was teaching us his math.

After another moment of quietly murmuring, Harry brought the room to a silence again. He abandoned the chalkboard and sat down on his desk, looking out at all of us, holding our now peaked attention.

"Math is a language that takes years of dedication, hard work and understanding to master," He spoke. "But just like any language, math has evolved over time. The more it evolves, the harder it becomes to understand. That's why we must find ways to simplify math, to give it sense and comprehension, and the way we do that... is no surprise, through slang."

"This is amazing," My side-person gasped, shaking her head in disbelief. "How come no one else has explained it like this before?"

Because there's only one Harry Devon, I silently thought back, hiding my smile behind my hand as I watched him continue to teach.

"For a long time, the only way to do math was on this," He suddenly reached into his suitcase and pulled out an old-fashioned wooden calculator; An abacus. "Until Indian mathematicians in the 7th century created universal numbers and thus the whole system of mathematics. 1+1=2 was the pinnacle of math once, but today's math has evolved with all kinds of slang versions of 1+1. And so must you," He stated. "Math is a language anyone can learn—provided you find the proper slang to understand it."

Everyone around the classroom looked blown away, staring at Harry with mouths open and eyes wide. I couldn't help but suppress a laugh, because even I, who had read this and knew if he ever shared it, would amaze the world and cause ripples of shock. But even I never imagined it would look like this. It was quite comical, how a whole classroom who had started out despising him for banning their modern devices, now looked at him in awe and amazement, like they would willingly surrender to any torture, if only to get taught more of this new brilliant way of understanding math.

"And the way to learn a language is to start from the bottom," Harry now finished, packing away the abacus and standing up. "Which is why I took away your electronics. You will learn by hand, by mouth, not by a machine, a digital brain to do all your thinking for you. So to those who still thinks I'm being unfair removing them, there's the door," Harry gestured towards the classroom door.

Every student looked towards it, but not a single person moved. They all turned their eyes back to Harry, eager to hear more.

"For those interested in learning math the proper way," Harry then slowly continued, pushing his glasses further up his nose as he scanned the room. "Get out your textbooks, notepads and pens and write down what I'm about to show you."

And in a fluster I had never experienced before, every person in the room scampered to get their books and pens out, bag zippers resounding in the large classroom, chairs scraping as people maneuvered around to get settled for copying notes.

And me? I looked down at Harry in awe and saw him walk up to the chalkboard, grabbing a fresh piece of chalk. As if sensing me staring at him, though, he slowly looked over his shoulder, his eyes finding mine.

And there it was; The first real smile I had seen on Harry's lips since he arrived here. It was small, tugged at the corner of his lip, and lasted only for a brief moment, before he turned towards the board and started writing.

Class was officially in session.

~~~

For the first time in weeks, the classroom emptied out not in state of tired fog and aching heads, but with an excited buzz running through everyone. All the students were chatting amongst themselves, recounting the excellent class they had just experienced. It seemed everyone had a new respect for their brilliant professor, who by no false accounts had suddenly earned his renowned title.

"That was amazing! No wonder he won a millennium prize," One guy exclaimed.

"He won two," Another interjected. "And rumor has it, he's working on a third."

"Imagine having the brains for that!"

"I know, right?!"

This was the talk I was surrounded by as I exited the classroom, leaving behind a crowd-jammed Harry up at the desk. Those who weren't busy ranting about the lecture were up at his desk, shaking his hand and asking all the questions that hadn't been enough time for during class. Somehow, the lectures that had always seemed to be endless, now suddenly hadn't had enough time at all. Everyone was already talking about the next class, how they couldn't wait to see what would happen then.

As for me, the shock of his amazing gift had passed many months ago. I was glad to see Harry getting the recognition he deserved, although what had caused this sudden change in him, I couldn't account for. All this time, he had been teaching us math by the textbook, but today, he had decided to finally teach us his math? Why?

That was the true question, and I could pile it on top of all the other unanswered questions I still hadn't gotten the answers to.

But I had decided I wasn't going to start picking into that again. At least not right now. We were slowly, but surely, amping up to our first mid-term. It was the middle of October, and most of the campus were heading home to celebrate Canadian thanksgiving. As for me, I would be spending my thanksgiving in the library, studying up and praying to everything that I would pass. With all the mess that had distracted me these past few weeks, I had fallen behind, and although I had tried to catch up, I wasn't sure that was enough. Still, it was only a mid-term paper. But as Harry had reminded me, if I didn't keep my grades at a certain standard, I stood to lose my scholarship.

So it was off to the library with me.

On my way though, I frowned when I noticed a small crowd had gathered around a public bulletin board. Curious, I walked a bit closer to hear what the gossip was about. Hopefully not another building burning to the ground.

"It's in two weeks! I can't believe it!"

"Me neither, they're should've given us more warning!"

Dread built up in my stomach as I overheard a few people talking. Two weeks? More warning? What was happening that was causing this much chaos?

"It's gonna be here in Toronto!" A student proclaimed. "In the main building!"

"How am I even going to find a dress in time?" Someone whined.

A dress?

I finally managed to push my way through the crowd to see what was on the bulletin board. And there, posted in bold letters, was an invitation.

FUND RAISING GALA

*ONLY MISSISSAUGA STUDENTS ARE INVITED*
- Join the staff, teachers and professors for a night of dancing, feasting and mingling, to help promote the new science building and raise funds for all of your new equipment!

Event takes place on the 22nd of October, at Toronto Campus, Main Building Lobby, at 7PM.
Black Tie Only!

I stared at the poster with a moment's shock, before stepping back and letting the rest of the shoving crowd come forward to see.

So now they were hosting a beneficial gala to help raise funds for the new science building. And it seemed, as students that had been affected by the building burning down, we had been invited to join, probably as a way of saying sorry, but most likely to create a crowd worth donating to. The more people, the more donations. It was all political.

Sighing, I still considered for a brief moment if I should attend. It would probably be a boring as hell gala with old board members crooning about solidarity in these difficult times, while trying to kiss ass to wealthy beneficiaries. It didn't exactly strike me as fun, especially considering it would be a whole night wasted where I could've studied for my midterms instead.

I guess there you have it.

Deciding there and then I didn't wanna go, I headed directly to the library instead and found my usual seat at one of the stationary computers. I had a billion and one pages to read up on, plus several papers I needed to finish, before I could call it an evening.

– I could practically hear my bed calling me.

Roughly three hours later, my eyes were bloodshot from staring at a screen for too long. I tiredly wrote down a few important notes, whilst trying to keep my concentration fired up.

"Cassandra."

Well, that ended quickly.

Looking up, I saw Harry approaching me, his coat and suitcase clutched in hand. He had a stack of papers under his arm, probably assignments that needed grading.

"Professor Devon," I noted with a little smile, seeing his lips tug up at the corner. "Quite an interesting class earlier."

"I had to get the class's attention somehow," He conversed casually, as if he hadn't just hosted a class that changed history. "I could feel you all falling asleep on me."

"Consider us awakened," I chuckled, but then stared down at all my books, and like a reflex, a yawn stretched on my lips.

"Yes, so I see," Harry commented, watching me try to hide my yawn behind my hand.

"I'm serious, though," I told, meeting his eyes with a sober look. "It was a great class. Everyone was so excited afterwards, you should've heard them," I now smirked. "I'm pretty sure half, if not all of the girls now have a crush on you."

"Stop it," Harry dryly responded.

"No, really. I already overheard a few of them talking. They had some pretty... interesting things to say."

"And I'm quite sure I don't want to hear that," Harry noted, shaking his head like a disappointed parent.

"Well..." I leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms innocently. "You can hardly blame them. I heard somewhere there's a word for that. Liking intelligence."

Harry's eyes met mine, and for a moment, I saw the irises in his pupils darken. I stared back up at him, knowing we were both thinking about the same thing.

A steamy bathroom... me pressed against the tiles... Harry standing before me... a slow, tantalizing rhythm...

Harry cleared his throat and averted his eyes first, clenching his jaw. Just like that, the spell was broken and I looked away as well, feeling my cheeks and inner thighs flush with warmth.

"I guess I'll see you next class," Harry then spoke, his voice a little rougher than before.

"See you then," I said, but just then, as he turned to leave, I saw an invitation sticking out amongst all of his papers. I recognized the title from the bulletin board. "Wait, you're going to the gala?"

Harry looked down and followed my sight, before sighing, almost irritatedly. "Yes. I'm afraid it's mandatory for teachers and professors."

"But I mean like... you're going," I repeated with emphasis, "to a public event?"

"Are you asking if hell has frozen over?"

"Yes."

"Then yes, Ms Berry. It has," Harry's lips twitched shortly, before he turned once more to leave. This time I didn't stop him.

I sat in shock as I tried to imagine what Harry amongst people at a party was like. Him... socializing. Fatcats trying to smooch up to him.

Harry Xavier Devon in a tux.

Slamming my books shut, I packed up all my things and began my march home.

Where indeed to find a dress in time.

• • •

Y'all are welcome.