WILD FLOWERS ✿ d.malfoy

10.

History was the worst possible subject devised by Humankind. 

Can't say the same for History of Magic though. Magic had existed since the start of the World, and that fact that nobody knew about it, intrigued me. I pay utmost attention and drink in everything Professor Binns said: a ghost teacher who woke up one day and didn't see that he left himself behind. [grey.]

Carina is sat beside me, doodling on her parchment, nudging me every so often to see her masterpieces. There is a lump in my throat; I give her a tight smile.

Tracy and Caelum are sitting in front of us, playing multiple games of tic-tac-toe. We had strategically managed to acquire the last two benches. Further down, Draco Malfoy and Blasie Zabini were sat, having a hushed conversation, cautiously stealing a glance my way. I dismiss it and focus.

The next lesson is Potions. We walk down to the dungeons, slowly, immersed in chatter. The dungeons were cold, unlike our common room (which can't possibly be in the dungeons...?), there were two lines against opposite walls: Gryffindor and Slytherin. Snort. We stand in line.

I turn to look towards the Gryffindors, having felt someone staring at me. That someone is Harry Potter. And Ron. And Hermione. Three someones. I raise an eyebrow. When they catch me looking at them, they all smile simultaneously and wave. Okay, that sync was creepy. I smile back at them and wave. {just smile and wave boys, smile and wave.}

The door opens and Snape orders us in. We trudge reluctantly to the desk in front, near the one with Draco and cronies, being the last one empty.

"Settle down," Snape orders coldly, shutting the door behind him. He looks scarier than summer.

"Before we begin today's lesson," says he, sweeping over to his desk and regarding everyone with a cold eye, "I think it is appropriate to remind you that next June you will be sitting an important examination, during which you will prove how much you have learned about the composition and use of magical potions. Moronic though some of this class undoubtedly are, I expect you to scrape an 'Acceptable' in your O.W.L., or suffer my ... displeasure."

"After this year, of course, many of you will cease studying with me," Snape goes on. "I take only the very best into my N.E.W.T. Potions class, which means that some of us will certainly be saying good-bye."

"But we have another year to go before that happy moment of farewell," says Snape softly, "so whether you are intending to attempt N.E.W.T. or not, I advise all of you to concentrate your efforts upon maintaining the high-pass level I have come to expect from my O.W.L. students.

"Today we will be mixing a potion that often comes up at Ordinary Wizarding Level: the Draught of Peace, a potion to calm anxiety and soothe agitation. Be warned: If you are too heavy-handed with the ingredients you will put the drinker into a heavy and sometimes irreversible sleep, so you will need to pay close attention to what you are doing."

I sit up straighter. "The ingredients and method" — Snape flicks his wand — "are on the blackboard" — (they appear there) — "you will find everything you need" — he flicks his wand again — "in the store cupboard" — (the door of the said cupboard springs open) — "you have an hour and a half. . . . Start."

There's an upheaval of screeching stools as everyone gets up to get the ingredients.

"I figure it's better for two of us to go..." Tracy starts, "and the rest can set up the cauldron. If that's fine...?"

We nod and Carina and Tracy go to the store. Caelum and I set up the cauldrons and light the fire.

"So... Celestia?" Caelum starts.