The Gloriana Set

The Mood Mix

Slughorn droned about potion safety, and Hermione dutifully scribbled down the rules. She had no intention of reading notes in class, certainly not notes from Draco Malfoy, and she ignored both scroll and student as long as she could, at least until they had to clear the table for the potion making. The scroll swept itself into her open bookbag, earning Malfoy a small glare from Hermione.

"This won't do," Slughorn was saying, looking around the room. "We will need four to a table, class." He waved his wand, and students leaped off their stools as tables spun and slammed together. Hermione watched in horror as her and Malfoy's table connected solidly with Ron's and Lavender's. "Very good," Slughorn went on. "We'll keep those tables for the term."

"But Professor!" Ron choked.

Slughorn raised his bushy gray eyebrows. "Yes, my boy?"

"It's ... it's ... him!" Ron pointed at Malfoy. "Him!"

"Well said, Ronald," Hermione remarked. Malfoy snickered.

"Surely you brave Gryffindors are not afraid to work with someone from my House," Slughorn said, the faintest hint of steel creeping into his jovial voice.

Ron flushed a deep red. "No, Professor." His glare at Malfoy could burn through stone.

Hermione rolled her eyes. There were endless reasons to dislike the Slytherin, but he wasn't doing anything objectionable at the moment, just looking smug again. A month in Azkaban would have done Malfoy a world of good. Just on general principles. Maybe two months.

To make things worse, Hermione had to sit opposite Malfoy, so they could cover both sides of their cauldron, which meant she sat next to Ron and Lavender was beside Malfoy. Lavender's hands shook so bad she could hardly slice her gurdyroots. Hermione couldn't blame her; the girl's face still bore the scars from Fenris. You didn't have to be an evil person to commit deeds with evil consequences. Hermione gave Malfoy a stern look, tilting her head slightly toward Lavender.

"Let me help you with that, Lavender," Malfoy said softly. "Those roots can be tricky."

"Stay away from her!" Ron snapped, slamming his knife perilously close to his own finger.

"He's just trying to help, Ronald," Hermione said. "Would you like to sit next to him?"

Lavender took a deep breath and nodded, pushing the board of roots closer to Malfoy. The Slytherin sliced them quickly and precisely.

"There," he said in that same soft voice, sliding the board back to her. "All done."

"I-I'm sorry," she stammered to Malfoy, quailing under Ron's glare.

"No," Malfoy murmured. "I'm sorry."

Silence reigned at the table after that, and only the sound of chopping and plopping and bubbling was heard. Ron's shrivelfigs looked like they'd been pounded with a mallet instead of sliced, but he dumped him into the cauldron anyway. Hermione opened her mouth to object, then thought better of it. She knew what the class was concocting, although Slughorn hadn't revealed the potion's name, and a few mushed shrivelfigs made little difference.

Ron and Lavender's potion didn't look too bad, in the end. It didn't have the same pearly silver sheen of Hermione and Malfoy's, but the slow, counter-clockwise swirls were correct and the pale color was almost right. Wise of Slughorn to start with a relatively easy potion; everyone could use a little encouragement.

"Well done, well done," Slughorn boomed. The lazy curls of steam from the cauldrons were gathered on the ceiling like soft storm clouds. "Can anybody tell me what potion we just created?"