Magic? || Years 1-5

Visiting Snuffles: Year 4

"Well, well, well," Malfoy cooed as Amisty set up her supplies, "pleasure seeing you again."

"Shut it, Malfoy," She snapped sharply, starting to cut up her ginger roots with murderous abandon.

"You're mutilating them. Honestly, River, it's not as if they've done anything to you. You'll ruin your potion, here," He snickered softly, brushing the destroyed roots into the trash and placing new ones on her cutting board.

"I don't know why you're helping me," She muttered, slicing them in a more collected manner.

"Who knows?" He replied, suddenly much quieter and restrained. "Maybe I'm still trying to fix everything."

"Can't fix what was already broken," She looked away.

"Forgive me for trying," He turned back to his own potion, a dark expression on his face, his words bitter.

She stared down at her cutting board, hating herself for every insult and block that came from her words.

She silently tipped the ginger into her cauldron, jumping back as a few drops of the hot potion splashed out and dotted her arms, burning.

"Ow!" She hissed, swiping at the remnants desperately.

Malfoy looked up, his eyes concerned before looking away again, a hard set to his jaw. She withdrew her wand, healing the burns and wincing as she placed a Cooling Charm over top.

"Clutz," Malfoy sneered.

Her eyes widened slightly at the venom in his voice and she slipped her wand back up her sleeve.

"Prat," She replied, nowhere close to how vicious she should've been to have a proper retort.

"That's it?" He raised an eyebrow. "I really expected more from you. You've gone soft, River."

"Never thought you'd be one to miss getting insulted, Malfoy," She growled, finally getting up to the level of anger she needed.

"Just checking to make sure the scrawny orphan girl keeps sharp," He replied, smirking.

She glared daggers, "How dare -- "

A knock at the dungeon door cut her off and she clamped her mouth shut, shooting one last glare at Malfoy before looking at the entrance.

"Enter," Snape called out.

Amisty stiffened as Professor Karkaroff walked in, looking very stressed and very worried. She carefully focused her listening in the direction of Snape's desk, almost missing her measuring cup as she poured her armadillo bile.

"We need to talk," Karkaroff murmured.

"I'll talk to you after my lesson, Karkaroff," Snape replied softly.

"I want to talk now, while you can't slip off, Severus. You've been avoiding me," Karkaroff snapped back.

"After the lesson," Snape repeated, agitated.

Amisty poured her clumsily measured armadillo bile into her cauldron, which slowly turned a sort of blueish purple, itching with curiosity at the whispered exchange.

"You're burning your potion," Malfoy drawled, reclining lazily in his seat, his potion a perfect shade of violet.

"Thanks for the tip," She rolled her eyes, discreetly flicking her wand at the flames so they died down a smidge.

She glanced over to where Harry was sitting, who looked just as curious as she felt. He nodded at her, head tilted slightly toward the two professors.