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─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
Fred had been watching Eleanor dominate the potions table for the past five minutes, never once faltering or second-guessing any of her steps. It was intriguing, and slightly attractive, but he didn't say that out loud. He had moved to help her a couple times, but already knowing better than to let that happen, Eleanor had slapped his hand away whenever he tried to. She didn't want the Wit-Sharpening Potion to go haywire, and with his fingers itching curiously to the different ingredients on the table, she made sure to keep an eye on him.
"Let me help," Fred whined after she slapped his hand away from a phial. He batted his brown eyes innocently at her, and she rolled her darker ones in response.
"And let you ruin the whole potion?" Eleanor retorted, "Not a chance, Weasley." The potion was easy, and she could probably reverse any effects of it, but she would rather not Snape see her lose control of the concoction after always acting so high and mighty in his lessons.
"Please, Evil Eleanor, I promise to be good," he pleaded, staring at her with his best impression of puppy dog eyes. "How do you know I'll ruin it, hm?"
"Because it's you." She glanced up at him. "I think that's a good enough reason."
Fred scoffed. "Poppycock."
"What can I do to make you shut up?" Eleanor regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth.
"Help George and I on our Puking Pastilles," he replied almost instantly. He batted his eyelashes at her and smiled innocently as if it had any effect on her.
"No."
Fred proceeded to pick up a handful of ginger roots in rebellion to her answer, much more ginger roots than the suggested limit. Eleanor was about to slap his hand away once again, but he caught her wrist just in time with his other hand. He grinned, "Ah, ah, ah, Miss Blythe. You've got to be quicker than that, especially with the big game coming up. Beaters are supposed to have good reflex's, no?"
Eleanor twisted her arm in a way that would stay painless for her but would become painful for him if he didn't let go soon. "Don't even try it," she warned lowly, her eyes flicking down to the ginger roots, "While I would love to say 'I told you so', I don't want to draw everyone's attention to us when it goes wrong."
Fred dipped his head so he was closer to her, only inches away from her face. He tilted his head. "You don't want everyone looking at us," he repeated. A grin slowly made its way across his face. "Have you got something planned for me, Blythe?" He said suggestively and raised his eyebrows.
