Whenever she got sad, there was 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲.
And on the other hand, whenever he got sad, there was 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫.
Until they discovered something that only required both of them in the same room -- nothing else.
𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧, 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲 �...
That night, regardless of the remarkable amount of reading and research done, neither of them could focus.
Clementia's part wasn't too tedious, she soon discovered. The potion was not complicated; its uses were easy to introduce, and the procedures were nothing new. Finding resources was not hard, either, and Millicent was very responsive to each and every one of her questions.
But, for some reason, she could not bring herself to write more than the five sentences she's written over the past 40 minutes. Although she didn't need to, she wanted to do more. She still needed to study for the test on History of Magic tomorrow, and start on the endless list of essays due soon. She wanted to get some tasks out of her list. She just couldn't. Not there in the deafeningly quiet library, where she grew more and more uncomfortable by the minute. The last thing she wanted was to be stuck in a room with him—the greatest distraction the universe could possibly give.
Draco was the opposite. He didn't want to leave. Not when she was right in front of him, unconsciously fiddling with the ends of her hair and trying her best to keep her eyes on the textbook before her.
Originally, he had planned to ignore her as much as he could. But after the little conversation they had earlier, this plan was completely demolished. He did not exert much effort on keeping his eyes away from her, not anymore.
He knew he could finish his part within the hour, but that would mean that he wouldn't need to attend the next meetings. He was going to stall as much as possible.
So, when pretending to think, he would allow his eyes to wander along the library, eventually planting them on her. Just like that night in his room, he found her strangely fascinating. The way she refused—at all costs—to look at him, how she's only written five sentences on her parchment, and how she tapped her quill against it as if to order it to write the rest of her part for her.
"It's 8:30." Theo yawned, breaking the silence.
"Nott, you've written one sentence." Millicent peered at his parchment with a disappointed expression.
Theo huffed. "It's not until next week."
"Well, some of us are not very fond of procrastination." Millicent continued, rolling up her own work that was halfway done. "But it is quite late. See you all tomorrow."
Ignoring her, Theo stood up and carelessly picked up his things. "Coming, mate?" He whispered to Draco, his eyes drifting subtly to Clementia who had also began packing up her things.
