Cast yourself (you are the spell)

Chapter 4

"That's quite alright, Miss Saltzman," Slughorn tells her, pointing to where Hope's sitting. She looks down at the table quickly, her heart dropping to her feet.

"Please find your seat over there next to Miss Mikaelson," he says, handing Josette a used textbook with a smile. At her name, Hope looks up, immediately meeting the eyes of the muggleborn.

She feels paralyzed in her seat, her hands unmoving in her lap. Josette looks...almost disappointed. Hope is suddenly very irritated with herself. Josette doesn't even bother introducing herself as she pulls out the chair from underneath the table. It scrapes loudly in the silent room. Hope finds herself silent, too.

"Alright, everyone. As a favor to Madam Pomfrey, we will be brewing Sleeping Draughts to restore her supply. I realize that you learned this third year, so I will leave much of it to you. The ingredients are in the pantry and-if you so need them-the instructions are in your textbooks. You are required to concoct at least one draught by the end of the lesson, please use your time wisely."

As Slughorn concludes his little speech, he takes a step back, observing the room as everyone quickly gets to work. He feels worried when he sees that Hope and Josette have not moved an inch from their positions.

"I'll get the ingredients," Hope says roughly, suddenly, standing up so quickly that the table shakes slightly. She doesn't wait for Josette to respond, and if she does, Hope hears nothing.

Once in the pantry, she allows herself a second of time to take a deep breath. Everything is fine.

Everything is fine.

She comes back to find a dark cauldron sitting on the table.

"Oh," Hope lets out, completely on accident. Josette looks up, hesitating for a second before furrowing her eyebrows.

"Is something wrong?" she asks, her voice like velvet, but a little hesitant, a little hostile.

"For one, there's a trash can on our desk," Hope blurts before she can stop herself. Josette looks up sharply, her eyes catching on the cauldron Hope's referring to.

"The equipment list suggested a pewter cauldron would suffice," Josette states, clearly offended as she opens a jar of lavender sprigs.

"Right," Hope nods. The solid gold cauldron in her magically expandable book bag feels heavy in its disuse. She knows that they could get the potion done much more quickly with it, but remains quiet. She's afraid of offending Josette once more, even though she's never had a problem with offending someone before.

The pair do not talk for the rest of their allotted two hours, working harmoniously on the potion without words.

When Hope finishes crushing herbs into paste, Josette will already be ready to drop Flobberworm Mucus into the cauldron. When Josette finishes chopping the Sopophorous bean needed for the draught, Hope will already have started heating it up.

They work side by side effortlessly, as if they have worked together for centuries. Hope has the sudden terrible thought that Josette is the best partner she's every worked with for potions. She does the work equally and never falters or stops to read the directions a second time. Hope quickly shakes the thought away, remembering that Josette is a muggleborn and that this is just luck.

They're the first ones to finish, Josette waving her wand over the potion a full thirty minutes before the class ends. It turns a deep purple, like it's supposed to, and Slughorn rushes over to praise them and cap the filled bottle.

Hope rolls her eyes the second he leaves, huffing slightly when she realizes that Josette and her are alone for half an hour. They sit awkwardly for about ten minutes until Hope gets up and leaves. She gets called back immediately, only having made it two steps out of the door.

"With all due respect, sir, we're done with our potion," she tells Slughorn when he scolds her for trying to vacate the room. He frowns, looking between Josette and Hope worriedly for some reason she can't put her finger on.

"Hmmm," he murmurs. "Since you have extra time on your hands, I hope the two of you will have no problem running this letter over to Professor Flitwick for me."

Hope sighs deeply, her eyes falling closed shortly. She instantly regrets trying to leave early. She can see Penelope laughing in the back of the room.

"Of course not, sir," she says, and in the corner of her eye she sees Josette gathering her stuff and shrinking her cauldron into her bag.

If it was awkward in the potions class, it's even more awkward in the halls. Hope is pretty sure that Josette is fuming on the inside for what Hope got them into.

"You know, I was perfectly fine sitting around and doing nothing," Josette breaks the silence as they reach ground-level and are out of the dungeons. Hope feels anger further plummet her attitude.

"Oh, forgive me for not having the personality of a couch potato," she bites out against clenched teeth.

"No," Josette laughs, a vicious sound coming out of soft lips. "Instead, you're a privileged pureblood who believes she's entitled to everything she wants."

Hope's heart stops completely. She freezes in her place, and Josette walks four strides before she notices and pauses, too.

"And who are you to think that you're entitled to an opinion about me?" She steps forward, wondering why she even bothered thinking about Josette so much in the first place.

"I've only been here a day and a half, but I've heard all about you..." she trails off. "Hope Mikaelson."

Josette says Hope's name like it's a joke, and it stings just between the layers of her skin. She finds she can't produce a sound.

"You think people hate me for my blood?" Josette asks, she, too, taking a step forward. "They hate you even more for yours."

Hope has only a second to think that this is a very different girl than the one she saw last night.

Forgetting Slughorn's envelope in her hand, she clenches her fists at her sides, trying to come up with something to say that won't make her look like an idiot or an asshole.

You're better than her, she tries to tell herself. Rise above it.

"You don't know what you're talking about," she says, instead of everything she wants to, punctuating it with one of the most venomous glares she's ever given.

Josette blinks twice, perhaps as if she's forgotten herself.

"Maybe," she says curiously, and Hope desperately wants to ask her what she's thinking. "Now, if you'll excuse me-Professor Flitwick is waiting."

She grabs the envelope from Hope's now-unclenched hand before Hope can even blink, making a move to go passed her. Hope doesn't budge, remaining in her position as Josette's eyes narrow. Their shoulders brush as the muggleborn finally makes it passed her, the burn from the momentary touch persisting moments after she has walked away.

Hope doesn't even try to tell her that she's going in the wrong direction. She wonders if Josette even knows who Professor Flitwick is.