Antidote

Chapter 25 - Willpower

The rest of the week went by smoothly.

Thankfully, Daphne hadn't been too judgmental about what she had seen in the library on Wednesday; only asking if Jolie had actually 'ended things' with him—which she had. On Thursday, just as he'd said, George came down to the dungeons for Daphne to take his measurements—which Jolie slept through. Then, on Friday, she and George perfected their next draft even further until they had a finished product. She felt quite confident about this one.

Now, on Monday morning, she sat in the Potions classroom with him before lesson began, diligently checking their notes as they readied themselves to brew.

As usual for their draft-testing ritual, she'd met him ridiculously early to assemble their workstation and ingredients.

But this time, at breakfast, he had chosen to sit with her at the Slytherin table. She'd let it slide; only because no one else was in the Great Hall other than Professor Sinistra and their headmaster.

She froze as she watched George add a sprig of knotgrass into the cauldron.

"Weasley—What are you doing?"

"Right now?"

"Wha... Now would be more preferable than later."

"I'm adding the knotgrass," he told her with a shrug of his shoulders.

"I see that—"

"Then, why'd you ask?"

"Because you're adding it before the antimony."

"If you can see so well, why do you keep stating the obvious?" he crooned.

She groaned, ignoring his quip. "Merlin. We're going to have to start over—"

"What? Why?"

"The antimony will burn up the knotgrass, idiot. That's why I wrote there," she slammed a finger down onto the parchment, "to add it afterward. It's the seventh step."

He blinked at the second sprig he held in his hand.

"Fuck," he murmured. "Sorry."

She heaved a sigh before waving her wand over the cauldron, vanishing their progress, and refilling it with fresh water. He pointed his at the bottom of the pewter, heating it until the water came to a boil.

And they started all over again.

Later, just as the lesson came to an end, she scribbled furiously onto a new sheet of parchment, taking notes of their transfigured monkey's behaviour.

As they'd used her hair this time, the monkey had once again wrapped its little, spindly arms around her neck. After ingesting their antidote, it had actually loosened its grip on her and allowed Jolie to set it back onto the tabletop. However, it still cried and whinged as she did.

Whilst it wasn't a perfect antidote, it seemed they were still making some progress.

She felt George leaning over her, reading the words as she wrote them. He cleared his throat.

"Should we start meeting more often?" he asked. "Try and get more done? I can meet after dinner on Tuesdays and Thursdays."

She shook her head. "Don't you have a certain tradition to uphold on Tuesdays?"

"I guess," he breathed, laughing lightly. "But I can make an exception for y—ahem, the project."

She looked up at him and narrowed her eyes. He stared back earnestly.