Merely Misunderstood

Chapter Forty-Five

I rejoined the class not too much later.

I would've stayed put in the lavatories, or even spent the rest of the period in my dormitory, but I figured I should probably finish my classes for today — skipping a class on the first day would start my year off on the wrong foot.

I re-entered the Potions classroom, letting Professor Slughorn know I was all right before returning to my spot at the Slytherin table. Like before, I avoided looking at Draco, although I knew he wouldn't look at me even if I was shouting at him.

My talk with Myrtle had gone mostly one-sided — she was a surprisingly good listener. I talked to her about the drama with Draco, and when I needed to come up with a solution to it, she suggested a few of her own ideas, but stayed quiet the rest of the time.

She didn't interject much, and she didn't try to give me advice. It was actually quite nice venting to her. And by the time I left the lavatories, I still felt awful, but I knew what I had to do.

If Draco wasn't planning on fixing the problem between us, then I had to decide whether I wanted to persist in trying to understand, or let it go.

He couldn't keep holding me at an arm's length. It was either all or nothing; I couldn't go on thinking we were done for and then end up kissing him a few minutes later. It was too painful to be on the verge of losing yet another person I loved.

So if I was going to lose him anyway, I might as well push him away myself.

Around the room, students were furiously trying to complete their potions, each of them more focused on it than I had ever seen in this class before. There must be something valuable offered to the one with the best potion — although everyone should already know who would have the best potion; Hermione never failed to succeed in every subject she attempted.

I hurriedly flipped open to page ten of Advanced Potion-Making by Libatius Borage. I knew I probably wouldn't be able to complete my Draught of Living Death in time, but how could I become the future Potions Master if I didn't at least try?

I had just gotten to cutting my sopophorous bean, but my knife wouldn't penetrate the skin. I knew I was running out of time, so in a moment of pure desperation, I pressed the flat side of the knife against the bean and crushed it.

At that moment, it popped like a grape, squirting juice all over the table. My heart jumping with a mixture of surprise and glee, I hurriedly scooped the juice into my cauldron, shocked to find that as I did, the potion turned the exact shade of lilac the textbook described.

I excitedly followed the next instructions to stir counterclockwise until the potion turned clear as water. I stirred and stirred, but it didn't, however, turn clear as water. My potion remained a shade of the palest purple I had ever seen, and before I could figure out how to fix it, Professor Slughorn called, "And time's... up! Stop stirring, please!"

He walked slowly around the room, examining everyone's potions, and he raised his eyebrows in mild satisfaction as he peered into my cauldron, seeming pleased that I'd at least gotten it to a pale purple.

He paused before my cauldron, stirring it once, and he smiled instantly, nodding toward me and saying, "Well done, Miss...?"

"Locousa," I answered, and his eyebrows fell into a frown.

"Ah, yes, I'm sorry to say I've read about your family in the Daily Prophet this summer...." he folded his hands before his large belly, which looked like a difficult feat; his arms straining to reach around it. "I am so terribly sorry for your loss, Miss Locousa."

I nodded with what I hoped looked like graciousness, but really I just felt sick to my stomach. I really didn't need a reminder on my first day back.