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It was almost inappropriate the way his hands would automatically reach for her.
He did not quite understand it, but the instinct to hold, to touch Macy came all too naturally to him. It was only when a colleague at the university mentioned it, that he realised how much other people had noticed- noticed even before he did.
“I am glad to see you’re finally dating someone!”
Harry’s eyes shot up from his laptop screen to meet the teasing ones of his T.A. The younger woman grinned impishly at him from where she sat across his table, eyebrows raised suggestively. Harry frowned, confused by her statement.
“But I’m not ..” he started, before he was abruptly cut off.
“Excuse you, Dr Vaughn is here all the time, and you’re always hanging about with her! And look, you’re blushing!”
Harry broke eye contact as he cleared his throat, his mouth somehow suddenly parched. “We are not... She and I... I mean.. We’re close, but we’re simply friends!” he finished lamely, finally looking back up to meet his assistant’s gaze.
“Well, then, Professor Greenwood, I might have to report you for sexual harassment.”
“I beg your pardon..?”
“I’m just saying, I don’t touch my girlfriend as often as you touch your… “friend”,” Stacy replied, making air-quotes with her fingers to emphasis the last word.
“Now, that’s just..”
“Harry?”
Macy had appeared in the doorway, her gaze shifting from him to the young woman before she smiled in recognition. Anastasia gathered her things as she cast a pointed look at the professor, much to Harry’s irritation. It was as though the Fates were conspiring against him, to have the object of their conversation show up in his office, right in the middle of it. He glanced at the clock on the wall. Ah, of course.
“Good afternoon, Dr Vaughn, I presume you’re here for your lunch date. I’ll leave you to it.” And with a surreptitious wink to Harry, she left, leaving a flustered Whitelighter and a confused witch in her wake.
“What was that about?”
“Nothing, absolutely nothing.”
In the next few days, Harry made mental notes of how often the impulse came to him. It happened at the most arbitrary moments: when she woke up early to help with breakfast- his hands wanting to brush against hers as she handed him a plate; when her hair fell past her face while she leaned over to read a spell during practice- his hands wanting to tuck it back behind her ear; how his skin seemed to burn when she held his shoulder, doubled over from laughing at something Maggie said- how he wanted to clasp her hand with his own.
But he stopped himself, mentally chiding his behaviour. It was inappropriate, him wanting to touch her, to be around her, him wanting her: his feelings for Macy were very un-Whitelighter-like, and he needed to put a stop to it.
“Is there something wrong, Harry?”
It was just the two of them, stood in the attic. The witches had completed their potion lesson for the day, the Vera sisters making their excuses quickly citing a Sister-Bonding-Evening, leaving Harry to clean up. Macy had decided to stay behind to help, despite the faces Mel and Maggie pulled, trying to coax her away for their Movie Night.
“No, not at all.”
She pursed her lips slightly, a frown flitting across her face. “I may not have Maggie’s powers but I feel like you’ve pulled away somehow.” Her eyes searched his face, concern and hurt reflected in their russet depths. Harry found himself stepping forward out of habit but forced his hand to stay by his side, instead of where it wanted to go, to reach for the softer one mere feet away from him, to comfort her.
Over the last week, he had begun to create excuses to avoid spending one-on-one time with Macy. He made up faculty meetings, last-minute tutorials, even roping in Stacy to lie about his schedule- much to the T.A.’s annoyance. Placing distance between them was the only way he could see to quell the growing attraction towards Marisol’s eldest daughter.
He could not lie to her, not when his actions had clearly caused her pain. “It was pointed out to me that we spend too much time together,” he started, a sheepish smile crossing his face. Macy’s eyebrows rose, a surprised laugh escaping her lips. “Who said that?”
“Anastasia.”
“Your TA?” He nodded in reply. “And here I thought I did something wrong. Why would you care what she says?”
“I did not want to further fuel any rumours..”
“You’re always doing the right thing, Harry.”
This time, it was Macy who reached for him, taking his hand between her own, squeezing slightly. Her lips were curved into a smile, as she stepped closer to him. “I don’t care what people say. And besides, I already have the reputation of having a dead boyfriend. Being involved with you would be a step up in the rumour mill.”
It was his turn to laugh, as he regarded her. The words seem to echo in his head, the idea of being ‘involved’ with his charge, and the way she seemed unopposed to it. But of course, she was speaking only of the gossip. Nothing more, never anything more. She would never-- Harry swallowed a gasp as her arms suddenly encircled him, Macy pulling him closer to herself. He stood for a second in shock, before he placed his own around her figure. They seemed to fit 'just right', her height making their positions all the more comfortable.
And while he held her, her curls inadvertently tickling his nose, Harry allowed himself this moment: though she bore no romantic interest in him, he could not help but fall in love with her. And that would be enough.
Macy turned to walk out of the attic, forcing herself to keep a normal pace. When they broke apart, she had begun to feel her cheeks warm under Harry’s gaze and knew that if she faced him much longer, her blush would be apparent for all to see. She squeezed her eyes tightly for a second, willing the blood to redirect away from their destination, annoyed at how little self-control she had around him. He was their guardian, it was his duty to care- and it was her duty to reign in any developing stray emotions and push them back into the recesses of her mind. Witches and Whitelighters do not mix, they were not supposed to mix, and should remain-
But she turned to steal a glance at him before she exited, and found him gazing after her, that ‘look’ in his eyes, the one that made her heart ram excitedly against its confines. Her blush came back in full force and she quickly turned away.
Oh no.