A Protector in the Stars pv

Within the privacy of his own office, Orion was lost within the page of a novel. What kind of novel? Definitely not the cheesy romantic kind that he would rather die than admit he enjoyed reading. Everyone had a guilty pleasure, and this was Orion's. The man loved a good romantic story, it was simply that romance had never been in the stars for him. So he got his fill by reading the kind of novels that bored housewives hoarded and shoved beneath off balanced tables.

The knock on his door startled him, and he quickly tossed the novel into one of his desk drawers. Hopefully if it were Mardi, he would not go digging around his desk. The novel was written in French, but the cover made the contents of the novel rather obvious. "One moment." He cleared his throat and stood up from his desk, walking over to the entrance of his office.

When the door swung open, a look of confusion crossed his features. Isabelle? No, that could not be. It was her daughter, a girl that Orion had seen attend his classes but had not had the opportunity to meet one-on-one. He wanted to, but he had decided to allow the girl to come to him instead. He knew what happened to her parents would be traumatizing for the girl, and he would rather not force the memory on her by approaching her and admitting he had known them. "Hello, Miss Martin." He greeted her in their native tongue. Offering the young girl a small smile to mask his concern. She seemed a bit worse of wear, there was definitely something on her mind. "Of course you may." He stepped back from the door, pulling it open wider to allow the young Slytherin to step inside. "I hope you like sweets; I've baked some fresh this morning." She looked like she could use a pick-up of sorts. He crossed the room to grab a tin container, inside was a display of macaroons in various colours, and he would set it upon his mahogany desk.

It was not every day that Orion's students showed up at his office door, when for the occasions that they did he had a good stock of sweets for them to munch on. Unless he got to them first, that was. Santario had selected to take a seat on the dark oak wing-backed armchair that faced his own matching desk. The back had been upholstered with soft forest green material. He took a seat behind the desk and folded his hands, placing them onto the smooth wooden surface.

He intended on allowing Miss Martin to speak first, but it seemed she had been gripped with silence. His blue eyes calmly took in her features, noting that despite her usual masked expression she seemed to be battling with something internally. Perhaps the girl had arrived at his office to ask about her parents? Whatever it may be, he would give her a moment to collect herself.

Or he meant to, until she started to cry. His heart wrenched at the sight, and a small frown tugged at his lips. "Miss Martin..." He would reach a hand forward to try and gently set it on her arm in an attempt to halt her. "Please do not leave. It's okay to cry; this is a safe space, you can take as long as you need." He tried to offer her a small smile, pulling back to reach into his pocket and pass her an sea foam green silk handkerchief that had been embroidered with his initials. If she didn't accept it, he would lay it on the desk in front of her. "You can tell me as much or as little as you want. I hope you know that it is not only my job to teach you, but to protect you as well. It is a part of my job that I do not take lightly."