CRIMSON TEARS | Harry Potter and the Philospher's Stone [1]

𝘅𝗶 | 𝗹𝗶𝗯𝗿𝗮𝗿𝘆 𝘁𝘂𝘁𝗼𝗿

Harry's first training was that evening, and Gwen found herself in the library trying to decipher her Potions homework. She had her textbooks and borrowed library books spread out in front of her, her parchment, quill and pot of ink, but she had only managed to write down her name at the top.

She found herself staring out the window, watching an owl in a tree as the sunset's final lights dipped behind the horizon.

'Struggling?'

She glanced up. Theodore Nott leaned against the bookcase opposite her, a book clutched underneath his arm. He was stoic as ever.

'It's Potions,' she said, as though he would understand how much she was in fact struggling in just that statement alone.

'Need any help?'

She looked at him, surprised. He took her silence as an invitation, and sat in the seat beside her.

Gwen tried to look busy on her essay, but he couldn't hide the fact that the parchment was completely blank.

A minute went by in silence, then two, then ten. Nott was the one to break it.

'Is this the one on the Sleeping Draught?'

She nodded, dipping her quill in her ink again. A drop spotted in the corner of her page. She didn't even know how to start. Nott had taken out his own homework from his bag and had neatly arranged himself around her not-so organised working space. She didn't know what to say. He'd offered her help but had made no effort to do so.

'Open with a description.'

His sudden instruction surprised her again, and she looked at him. He was rather pale, she thought, perhaps he didn't get out much. He had dark eyes and dark hair and was skinny and kept to himself. In the few lessons they had together, she knew that he was intelligent, but from what she knew about his family - especially being that his father held the same former job title that Gwen's parents held - she knew he was probably similar to Malfoy in many ways.

Still, she took his advice, and began the essay, scribbling down a brief overview of what she knew about the Sleeping Draught.

When she'd finished, she held her quill midair, looking to Nott again for advice. He had engaged himself in a book about Charms.

She cleared her throat to get his attention.

'Done?' he said, sparing her a glance. 'What do you write next?'

Gwen hesitated. In truth, she had no idea. Essays were not her strong point, and she had been hoping that Nott would just hand her the answers. It seemed he would not be doing that, however, so, clearing her throat again, she sought through her mind for the most logical answer.

'I mean, it depends. You could either say about its effects, or go straight into the brewing process.'

Nott, who'd seemingly only been half listening, nodded. 'Yes, either of those. Depends how you want to structure it.'