agatha harkness one-shots

✧ prom date ✧

Prom dances, Agatha hates them.

It's bad enough to see her students' faces every day and now she must also see them dance, sing, enjoy themselves. It shouldn't be allowed. In fact, it's unfair that the teachers' presence is mandatory. She could be at home, watching TV or reading some book but no, here she is, immersed in sorrow.

"You could smile a little bit."

The woman rolls her eyes as her colleague, and sometimes friend, Professor Maximoff, stands beside her.

"Why would I do that? I'm suffering."

Wanda chuckles slightly. "There's no need to be so dramatic, Agatha. You can't deny that this is way better than grading piles of exams."

"Don't know 'bout that. At least I'm alone and at peace when I'm doin' that. Here, there's just... Chaos."

The young red-haired woman grimaces, admiring the dance hall-the gym she has been decorating since this morning with the help of other teachers. They have a very different view of what 'chaos' is. And high school students dancing to pop songs, eating snacks, laughing and having a good time definitely doesn't fall within those parameters. To Wanda's eyes, it's being a beautiful and very peaceful evening.

"I think you should try to have some fun." She glances at Agatha, who's still sipping nonchalantly from her glass of punch. "And I assume you didn't pour whiskey in your drink."

Harkness looks back at her. "Of course I did. It's the only way I'll survive tonight."

After insisting that she should try to drop her worries and enjoy herself like the rest, at least once for a change, Wanda wanders off to continue monitoring the perimeter. Her colleague, on the other hand, decides to go refill her glass with more fruit punch.

"Excuse me, Professor Harkness?"

The woman has to suppress her desire to close her eyes and curse, even to sigh in complete frustration. One night, the students can't leave her alone for even one blessed night.

"Yes?"

Turning on her heels, two young students, those of her class, in fact, appear in her line of sight. Agatha looks at them expectantly. Her keen blue eyes examining the body language of both. Phoebe looks extremely nervous while Camille, the most rebellious of probably the entire school, takes the initiative to speak.

"We notice that you're alone tonight, professor."

"Do you have any kind of problem with that, Miss Rogers?"

"Not at all. We don't mean to offend you, Professor." Agatha can't help but furrow her brow a tiny bit. There's something odd. Camille has never been this formal and well-spoken. And her purely innocent smile is certainly not to be trusted. "It just draws our attention that you're all by yourself when the rule was to come with someone."

The woman folds her arms at this point, immersed in conversation.

"Rule? What rule exactly are you referring to?"

"The rule that says all professors have to attend prom with a date." Phoebe adds, almost sheepishly.

A chuckle escapes the teacher's mouth. But she's unable to interrogate where such a ridiculous thing is set up because her student continues.