It would be nice to say that Sundays were a day of relaxation for the Professor. One would think they would be as no classes were conducted during the weekend and typically people were of the same mind to take the day easy in preparation for the coming week. Yet, for Grey this was rarely so. The man had his duties as Professor, Head of House, and Deputy Headmaster to keep him equally busy. Some days it felt as if his role as Head of Slytherin was far more dominant than his other titles. Perhaps this was merely due to one particular Slytherin. Since the lad had transferred into the school with his father Grey had found himself dealing more and more with the lad. As head of his house, Grey was often in charge of the student’s discipline. Some days, Illyana got in on the game, being in charge of the students on whole, but most of the times it seemed Grey was the first to hear of whatever misgivings the young wizard had gotten himself up to that day.

Grey would admit he felt ill-prepared to deal with his. He wasn’t certain what exactly was going on in the boy’s head. He was able to advise and deal with the rest of his house with relative ease, but this seemed an exception as no matter what the boy seemed to have his own thoughts. Yet, it wasn’t unusual for Grey to be uncertain what people were thinking. His own social graces were a bit lacking—at least glaringly so to him—but Grey did not see point to correct them. He was not particularly interested in getting close to his students or colleagues on a personal level. It was better to keep things to business.

As such, business as usual drew Grey back to his office. There were some potions he was needed to brew for a couple faculty members. Two of them were currently steeping and would need to be concluded soon, and the other he had been waiting on ingredients from Catherine Dunham, the Herbology Professor. The man expected to find the ingredients neatly arranged on his desk—as they always were—when he came into his classroom. It had turned into the norm of the two professors’ interactions. Grey knew as Deputy Headmaster he should work to make a better connection with the woman, but it seemed all together apparent to him that she disliked him that he did not seek to hinder her with his presence for long when it was required.

As he approached his classroom, Grey knew instantly that someone was already present there as cheerful singing wafted out into the corridors. Adjusting the books under his arm, Grey entered the classroom, making a small knock on the door—his own, how ironic to be knocking on one’s own door—so as not to completely startle the woman. He wasn’t certain what to make of the noise that came from the woman, so Grey chose instead to ignore it as he set his books down on one of the desks. The situation seemed a bit tensed to the Professor, but he did not know how to ease it. Grey doubted telling her to continue would be effective, but words seemed to fail him, so instead he waved her to continue with what she was doing before he himself moved to the cauldrons set up at the back of the room. Grey was hardly aware of how his actions came across to woman when performed with his calm composure despite his own insecurities reeling inside of him.

Checking over the two brewing potions, Grey had not expected the woman to start rambling. He did not figure she would really be all that interested in having a conversation with him. Even when they were speaking about work related topics the conversation always seemed short and to the point. Granted, Grey usually tried to keep it that way after the two’s first few meetings. To Grey it did not seem as if Catherine liked him much. He wasn’t a expert at reading people, but Catherine seemed rather open about her emotions and thoughts—or so he had observed when watching her with other people. She was always more tense and clipped when speaking to him. As mentioned, it never occurred to him that she was intimidated by him. For one, her actions did not really match those of others—granted, Grey was basing this on students, who were in sense still children, but the basis for it was still there, right?

“This has been the norm since you started here,” he retorted, “if it was a problem it would not have gone so long uncorrected,” he finished, glancing briefly at the woman for a moment, watching her expressions. His wand out, Grey lowered the temperature on one of the cauldrons.

The man moved over to the side of the room where a relatively large aquarium, around 50 galleons, was set up and inside were a variety of small fresh water fish. The man had two aquariums, the one in his quarters and this one in his office area. Both tanks houses the same fish, a variety of guppies, mollies, and cory-cats. It was perhaps strange of the man to have such ordinary fish in the tank given the magical world they lived in (not to mention his particular field where such beings found in tanks could be potential potion ingredients) but he enjoyed the colors of the small fish flitting around the tank.

Tearing his gaze from the fish, Grey focused on the woman as she handed him her list while speaking. “The students, unfortunately, tend to be the deciding factor in that regards,” Grey remarked stiffly as he looked over the list the woman had handed back to him. His dark eyes scanned over the list, noting the ones the petite professor had marked.

“These three here,” he motioned the items, “I anticipate needing a higher quantity as there are some …” Grey searched for a less than insulting word to describe the select bunch of inept students in his class this year, “potions-challenged students,” he finished dryly with a small note of humor that would probably pass over Catherine but would have probably been caught by Illyana—who was marginally more used to the Potions Master and his way of things. Grey knew that he was high-demanding in his classroom. However, his teaching method had proven effective as there were less potion-related explosions or mishaps in his classroom. However, that did not prevent his students from wasting ingredients as they sliced something wrong, put in too much, or numerous other methods for spoiling a potion.

He glanced back to the tank at utterance. “They are, and unfortunately prone to breeding,” he replied. Grey had made the mistake early on in housing both male and female guppies, but since he allowed nature to take its course, the fish usually ate what fry they could find and the ones who were able to hide in the foliage usually grew into adulthood. Grey found he really only ever had to place a couple new fish in every so often to keep from the hazards of inbreeding. “If you would like any, please let me know. Between this tank and the one in my quarters, I have fish to spare for any wishing to have some.”

He shifted the lid of the tank, startling the fish, but quickly enough they flocked to the area he lifted, expecting food, which Grey obliged in dropping to the tank. He dusted the flake food from his fingers.