Light Shines Brightest In The Darkness

C3- Skeeter

The following evening, Tempest trudged down to the dungeons with a stoic Ron, which suited her fine, seeing as she wasn't too happy with him either. The two reached the dungeons in silence and they waited outside the door to Snape's dungeon while the tension mounted.

When Snape swept around the corner, looking as usual like an overgrown bat, Tempest could quite honestly (if disbelievingly) say that she had never been so glad to see the potions master. But then, when she thought about it, that wasn't saying much.

Once both Tempest and Ron were inside- both refusing to meet each other's eyes- Snape told them to clean out the insides of the insides of the cauldrons from a disastrous first year potions class. Without magic.

Of all of the detentions Tempest had ever had- (and that was no small number), it was the absolute worst.

On the bright side, Snape wasn't one to mince words, and his curt instructions meant that Tempest could get started right away and not have to continue standing there, avoiding Ron's gaze and staring at the dingy walls. Tempest was stubborn yes- but there was only so long she could stare at the same thing without becoming so bored out of her mind she might as well have been trapped in a jar. After all, she got bored of being bored very quickly as being bored was boring.

On the not-so-bright side, it also meant that it was utterly silent in the dungeons, and every tiny sound was magnified by about a thousand, echoing around the stone walls. The silence hanging over her like a stifling blanket.

And that wasn't even all. Of all things to clean out- cauldrons were the hardest. The damn things were too bulky for Tempest to wrap her arms around to hold still while she scrubbed the inside, and were too round for her to turn sideways on a desk (they kept on rolling everywhere) and also whatever the first years had been making, it seemed to be have been designed specifically to stick to the insides of the cauldron with admirable determination.

Tempest sighed impatiently after a few minutes of pointless scrubbing and grab the cauldron she was currently cleaning, sat down on the stone floor of the dungeon, abandoned the brush she was holding, shoved up her sleeves, and went in elbow deep with a clump of steel wool, clamping the cauldron in place with her knees, and scrubbing as though the cauldron had offended her personally.

Tempest was on her fourth cauldron and Ron still on his first when there was a sudden bang, and her head snapped up, to see Ron throw himself down on the dungeon floor, and imitating Tempest, began scrubbing at his cauldron, scowling furiously.

Ron looked up at the exact same moment, and for a second, they merely stared at each other.

Tempest arched an eyebrow.

Ron continued scowling.

Tempest's eyebrows continued crawling up her forehead.

Ron's scowl deepened until he was practically squinting.

Tempest's lips twitched.

Ron's face was running through about ten different expressions at once, trying to hold back a smile.

Oh to hell with it.

Yes she had been pissed at Ron- and yes he was a dick- but admittedly she wasn't all that great either, and above all he was her friend- and Tempest didn't have all that many of them, and the ones she had, she didn't throw aside lightly... so she grinned across the room at him, and Ron grinned back, and they were friends again.

Tempest smiled into the disgusting depths of the cauldron, feeling decidedly lighter than she had been when she walked into the dungeon. That was until her hand slipped, and she slammed her funny bone into the side of the cauldron.