Atelophobia

8_ false accusations

Lenore

Potions with the dreadful Professor Snape is never a fun lesson.

It's a shame, really. It would be such an interesting subject if it weren't for him.

Well, him and Nott.

I'm lucky enough that I don't have to sit by him, but the competition between us is still as, if not more, brutal.

Every year, we see who can make the best potion in class and every year, Nott or Malfoy has beaten me.

I'm pretty sure that's just because Snape is biased towards Slytherins, though.

Still, I won't stop trying until I finally win. And it looks like today might be my chance.

"Attention, everyone. Today you will be making Veritaserum. It is a very advanced potion that I do not expect any of you to make perfectly. However, this is a N.E.W.T-level class, and you shall be prepared for so. It is a quick potion to make—enhancing its difficulty—therefore you will have precisely 90 minutes, no more, no less. You may begin."

I flip through my book eagerly, searching for Veritaserum and briefly reading over the steps before I begin.

That's another thing I hate about potions—Snape doesn't really teach you any techniques and instead just tells you to get the directions from the textbook.

Padma and I think he should be fired, but clearly that won't happen until we're long gone from Hogwarts.

There's two parts to the potion until you combine the results in the end, but the second part requires boiling for a certain duration.

That's the part I need to start first.

So when I make my way to the ingredient cabinet with everyone else, I go to the section with jobberknoll feathers instead of powdered moonstone.

The most colorful feathers usually have the best effects when it comes to potions, so I reach for the brightest blue one I can see.

But right before I can grab it, someone else's hand brushes mine and takes it from my grasp.

The brief contact was enough to give me butterflies, until I realized who was standing next to me.

"Nott, give it to me," I demand, turning to face him.

"I saw it first, it was practically in my hands—"

"But it wasn't," he smirks.

I try to steal it back, but he moves him arm away fast enough and higher for it to be out of reach.

"Too bad, Dalton. I guess I'll be making the best potion today."

"Maybe I should team up with Malfoy then, just to beat you."

He laughs, blue eyes meeting mine.

"Trust me, cara mia. You'd much rather enjoy my company than his. And if you want to disagree, well, then you haven't actually met him."

Before I can get the last word, he walks out of the closet, back to the room full of potions.

I follow, sitting at my table on the opposite end of the room.

But I keep my eyes on him, the desire to win growing with each gaze.

I don't even care about the potion that much. To wipe that stupid smirk off of his face would be victory enough.

I work diligently for the rest of class, determined to make each cut precise, each step completed perfectly.

I have to win this time, otherwise I might never hear the end of it. And, merlin, how I would love to prove Nott wrong.