Genetics • Sirius Black

Chapter Thirty Nine: Nothing's Wrong.

Peter Pettigrew stood over Freya Grey's shoulder the very next morning at the lab. To her surprise, he was not offended. In fact, he suspected she would show up and brought her a pumpkin pasty, remembering she was fond of them. A sentiment she was more than a little confused about since she assumed that he hated her guts.

"Why does this take so long?" Peter asked, his dirty blonde hair sticking up oddly on the side as if he fell asleep in a weird position. Unlike, some of the other boys of his friend group, he did not have the same naturally "rugged" and "messy" air that gave him the ability to pull it off as Sirius did. Though he was not unattractive either, he had a face that was comprised of soft triangles that made him look more kind than the rest of them without even trying. He was neither striking nor dull, and had a similar effect as bread did, a staple, but not exceptional. Those words could also be applied to Freya's opinion of him as a person, since, from what she had seen, he did nothing more than blindly champion the other three. Of course, that was only one of many duties Peter performed in the friend group, it was still the most glaring.

"I'm working blind." She explained, draining the blackened leaves from the silver liquid, brows furrowed slightly as she made sure nothing dripped out. Her hair was tied back neatly, and she had a smock over her crisp white shirt to make sure she would look perfectly normal for class.

"What?" Confusion was clear in his voice.

"Well, there is not really much of an instruction manual, and most of our ingredients are not from the same... sources." Slightly, her eyes shifted to him, and he seemed relatively unbothered, head still resting on the palm of his hand, crumbs on the corners of his mouth. "Plus, this is considered to be a more complicated potion." Ensuring all of the mixture went into the vile, she added in the final bit of herbs and shook it.

Peter leaned forward, hopefully. "Does it look good?"

"No." The liquid turned an alarming shade of yellow, and Freya held it up in the sunlight. "No, it doesn't."

***

Thick wet air filled the student's nostrils as they combed through the dirt in the Herbology. By far, this was Freya's least favorite class. Not only was she piss poor at growing plants, but the greenhouse got her shoes dirty, and that alone was a crime in and of itself. She was much more fond of killing and dissecting plants, than harvesting the nutrients for potions. Still, she had never gotten lower than E in a class, and she was not going to let Herbology, of all things be the exception.

Once Professor Pomona Sprout remarked that plants can sense emotions to a degree, and perhaps the issue Freya had with plants was something internal. Of course, Freya found that to be a load of shit.

Cleaning out (more like attacking) the rot from the twisted violet plant before, Freya did not look up as Sirius Black stood next to her. Barely, above a whisper, she asked, "What?"

"How did it go this morning with Peter?" He questioned, matching her volume, though with the chattering of their other classmates it was hardly something to worry about. She shot him a look, and he tilted his head. "You're more predictable than you think." He pretended to be cleaning the plant next to her, and she ignored him, missing Marlene McKinnon already, though she had been gone less than a minute for her bathroom break. A tone slipped into his voice. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong," Freya assured herself, but the plant looked like it had been maimed.

"Wrong, and you're a poor liar." His grey eyes had soft humor in them, and her jaw clenched slightly. She was an excellent liar. Or so Regulus let her believe. Impatience filled him; he had noticed something was off about her from the moment she walked in and had to wait for Marlene to leave her alone to ask about it. "Come on, what is it?"