𝙘𝙤𝙡𝙙 𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙨-𝙧.𝙖.𝙗

𝟬𝟯-𝗽𝗼𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀

JAMES POTTER STAYS TRUE ON HIS PROMISE TO DO SOMETHING STUPID and blows up all the toilets in the Slytherin dorms.

In the early hours of the morning, as all of the Slytherins were getting ready for their first block of classes, there was a loud bang, and then the next thing anyone knew, their whole common room was flooded with this viscous liquid, pink and glittery and thick. It was, of course, a rather massive feat that he and his friends had pulled off, and Jo would be lying if she said she wasn't impressed. But what is really irritating her, is that most of Slytherin seems to be taking their frustrations out on her.

On the afternoon of the Great Toilet Incident, after all the flooding was drained, but before they could scrub all the stubborn glitter off, Jo was on the receiving end of slippery jinx from some sniveling fourth year, causing her to fall flat on her arse, Charms notes flying in the air, scattering all over the corridor. She tried to stand on her own three times before she gave up, resigning to sit flat on the floor. The next day, her pumpkin soup exploded right in her face, spilling all over her robes and leaving a slight burn on her face that she refused to see Madam Pomfrey for. Jo completely lost it, though, at the sticky, dripping, dark green goo that dropped on her head, completely soaking in the mystery substance, and it smelled vile, like the wet of a swamp. It would be, Jo thinks, far more productive of the lot of them to reserve these sort of antics of James. Apparently, though, her brother is just too untouchable. So they settle for her.

Of course, her brother vowed vengeance on every Slytherin that took a shot at her, but that didn't stop her arse from bruising or the swamp stench from sticking in her hair.

All in all, it's a really shit week for Jo. There's the non-stop badgering, of course, but Jo thinks her classes might be worse. Ancient Runes is giving her a non-stop headache, Dorcas nearly knocked her unconscious in Defense, and a sapling Venomous Tentacula was just unable to resist biting her cheek in Herbology.

By the time that she settles down for her block of Double Potions, her last class of the week, she has absolutely had it.

Slughorn claps his hands together, and Jo is slumped pathetically against her desk in the back of the classroom, studying the mustache that sits on the top of his lip. She wonders if he has to clean it, if food gets stuck in it. "Right then, let's start things out with a bang, shall we? We'll be brewing some Polyjuice Potion," he explains, and proceeds despite the collective groan that comes from the class, the loudest coming from Dorcas. "I've taken the liberty of stewing your lacewing flies and picking the fluxweed, in the interest of saving time. Now, this is still a disastrously tricky and tedious one, so I figure I'll be pairing you up, to make it a little bit easier." Dorcas shoots Jo a panicked look, only met with a smug smirk. Jo had been carrying Dorcas on her back for the past five years, through subtle note passing and whispers. "Now, let's see here, alright. Ms. Fortescue, why don't you go over there with Ms. Rakepick. Mulciber, go over and join Ms. Vanity. Ms. Meadows, you'll be with Ms. Talkalot. And Mr. Black, you'll be with Potter. Cattermole, why don't you go over there with Prewett? No, the other Prewett."

Jo groans again. Of course.

Regulus sits up in the front, surrounded by his Slytherin gang, and he doesn't even turn around to face his new partner. Begrudgingly, Jo piles her books together while staring at the back of his head, studying the way the curls touch on the back of his neck, shoulders straight and posture perfect.

There's a hot tickle of air on her ear that makes her jump, "Good luck with that one," Dorcas says into her ear, raising an eyebrow and flashes a look over to the younger Black boy. Jo gives nothing in response but a slight roll of her eyes, and she leaves to join him.

Jo greets him by dropping her books next to him and sharply instructing, "Go and gather up the ingredients. You prep them, I'll work on brewing."

There's a beat of silence, and Jo works quickly to set up her cauldron, busywork for her hands so she won't have to look at him. Still, she can feel his gaze, all too aware of the way he stands still, fixated on her movements. "Do you think I'm incapable of brewing a potion?" he questions after a moment, and Jo finds his tone unreadable, carefully even.