Quite!

Hazel's cheeks flushed as she looked on at her headmistress. Goodfeather was still clothed, but only barely. The business slacks that fit too well her hourglass body now came with something struggling within the confines of fabric, even as the button was undone. Her hair was frantic; her blouse loose and no longer tucked in.

"You were interrupting one of my very personal student meetings. Whyever would you need to come down?" she asked, strutting around the little neatly-kept bathroom. She had her wand in her hand, and waved it: The door then seemed to fasten itself in place, a spectral lock keeping the handle in place.

"I-I-I understand that. I just needed my bag from earlier today. I f-forgot to grab it on my way out."

Hazel shimmied around in place, not intentionally, but out of destitute nervousness. She was looking for a way out, but to no avail.

"Oh, was that all. What prompted you to summon a peeper orb into my office, then? Fixated right over my desk?"

Goodfeather seemed... annoyed. But looking at her, she really didn't look so much that way rather than just how she talked. Hazel looked carefully. There was sweat on her brow. Hazel didn't like that.

"Miss Monroe, what you have exhibited for me today was nothing but promise. This little incident changes none of that," the Headmistress said, taking a step forward,

"But."

Hazel's brow was now sweating. Goodfeather was getting closer.

"I, um..." she muttered out, only to be hushed by her superior.

"Nope. Nuh-uh. Quiet time." she said, another step or two.

This was a different Goodfeather. Less composed. More... impulsive.

"Even though you have shown me a great amount of disrespect and underhandedness today, I'll just chock that up to you not knowing the wherewithal to navigate my fine campus."

"I am SO sorry, Miss Goodfeather." Hazel muttered out, not used to being talked down to. This unfamiliar situation only grew worse as the headmistress took one more step, and as Hazel matched it, she hit her lithe back against the wall.

As this happened, Miss Goodfeather saw her chance, and leapt like a tiger. In a moment, she was practically on top of Hazel, still standing but just barely off from her student. Hazel about died when she saw Goodfeather's beautiful curls drooping down right above her, with the woman's face not too far behind.

Hazel was trapped.

"I forgive you." Goodfeather smiled.

"You... what?"

"On the condition!" she notes, "That you help me out of the oh-so painful situation you've put me in."

At that moment, Hazel understood. Not because of the words Goodfeather told her or the relief she felt from the forgiveness, but rather the sudden, irresistible urge to yelp as soon as she felt that piece stuck in her headmistress' pants smush up against her own.