petrichor ☆ fred weasley

n i n e t e e n

"You cannot tell me that you don't think that these are gross" muttered Fred, a look of pure disgust on his face as he flicked a lacewing fly across his parchment with the end of his quill.

Persephone sighed, leaning across the table to retrieve the insect. "You said you wanted to help me study, this is not helping"

It was early on a Saturday afternoon, the sky clouded with white, the air full of frost, and the wind strong. Klara was holed up in a hidden corridor somewhere with her newest fling, Adrian Pucey, which was probably why Augustus had dragged Cedric down to pointlessly chase flying balls around on a broomstick.

This left Persephone, who decided to make her way down to the dungeons to re-attempt the wit-sharpening potion that she hadn't quite mastered in the previous lesson. This is where she ran into Fred, who was emerging from detention with Snape, which he had gotten for throwing notes at Persephone from across the classroom. Unfortunately for Fred, Snape intercepted the note that illustrated himself pouring fire whiskey into a cauldron. Fortunately for Persephone, Snape hadn't been able to work out who the note was intended for, meaning she was free from another dreaded detention.

"I am helping", whined Fred, flipping a page of the textbook pointedly, "It says to add seven lacewing flies and stir counterclockwise until it starts to turn purple, and then take it off the heat and add the cut up squill bulb."

Persephone nodded, scooping up exactly seven of the flies to throw into the cauldron. Fred, who was watching intently, grimaced, scooting his chair back in an attempt to escape from the steaming liquid.

"How can you fight off Grindylows and set off dung bombs daily but be grossed out by flies" chuckled Persephone as she continued to stir the mixture that was gradually transforming from a light shade of amber to a rich and dark colour of violet.

"Well first off I only fought off the Grindylows because I felt obligated, I didn't actually want to save your life or anything," he paused for a dramatic reaction, which he received through a light slap on the shoulder and a scoff of indignation on behalf of Persephone, "and because dung bombs don't have beady little eyes that follow me wherever I go."

Shrugging her shoulders, Persephone laughed lightly "That is fair".

"I think my nose has developed a tolerance for that stuff anyway, we've been buying them since our first year"

Leaning over, she looked at the contents within the bubbling cauldron. Pleased with the deep shade of burgundy, she reached down to turn off the flame that was currently burning, and slowly added handful by handful of the diced squill bulb.

Shaking the excess dirt off the bulb off her hands, she began to write notes of the potion on a fresh sheet of creamy white parchment. Persephone did not particularly like potions, just as potions didn't particularly like her. It took her hours of extra study to ensure she was on top of her school work and had taken years to assert herself above mediocrity in the eyes of Severus Snape. In her first year, Snape's distaste for her was clear, assumably due to his 'friendship' (or lack thereof), with her parents. But, after seeing her dedication to her studies, (and the fact she was friends with potions prodigy Augustus Button), he moved from clear dislike to simple tolerance. Persephone wasn't complaining.

Fred scooted over his stool so he was closer to Persephone, "so what do you want to do while we wait for your potion to cool..."

Persephone rose her eyebrows at his bad attempt at subtly, "we could always organise my lacewing fly collection"

Fred scoffed, smirking as he leaned in, halting as he leaned his forehead against his girlfriends. "Sounds sexy."

"It really is."