Coiled (Book 1 of 2)

Everything & Nothing

Finally Friday ...

I had a fitful night's sleep, and when I awoke, the vestiges of my dreams seemed to cling to me with unusually stubborn tenacity.

I move slowly, or so it seems to me, at least. Slow in rising out of bed; slow in getting dressed, yawning and shaking my head all the while as I try to will myself into the waking world.

Sitting at the edge of my bed, I bend over and tug on a pair of thick woollen socks. October is just about to give way to November, and the days are getting cold, the nights even colder. Frowning, I notice a fresh hole in the tip of one of my socks, my big toe peeking out teasingly.

That'll drive me absolutely mad, walking around all day like that.

Reaching over, I pluck my wand off my bedside table and raise my foot up into the air. Face twisting in concentration, I point and swirl my wand, watching with immense satisfaction as the hole of the sock darns itself, lightning quick.

There we go!

Much, much better!

Setting my wand down at my side, I turn my gaze towards the window and sigh deeply. A grey day. Grey and unpleasantly damp. And seated on my bed like this, the temptation to crawl back under the covers and sleep longer is difficult to resist.

Just get through the monotony of the morning and the afternoon.

After all, you remember what tonight is, right?

Immediately I perk up, feeling the familiar rush of adrenaline course through me:

Full moon - it's a full moon night.

The full moon meant transforming. A night of freedom and friendship. Our time to stand by Remus and remind him that he's not alone - never alone - when it comes to his miserable curse. And though we may not be able to reverse the curse, or take away the pain, the four of us would be there together, the whole time - like we always are - to support him and take the edge off the suffering.

That's enough to propel me upwards off my bed and out the door to my morning Potions class.

Potions itself is more or less uneventful. As a continuation of our unit on medicinal and healing potions, we review the ingredients and steps for making Rat Tonic, then each take a turn at making our own. My completed potion, to quote Professor Slughorn as he passes by, turns out, "Completely acceptably passable." And while the perfectionist in me frowns in irritation at having made something merely adequate, it takes me all of ten seconds before I'm able to shrug it off.

Potions, I've decided, though an admirable art, is simply too tedious for me to truly worry about perfecting. As I tuck my books into my bag and clean my workspace, I catch myself smiling at the memory of what Reggie'd divulged to me in the library: "Potions is the worst. I hate Potions."

Packing my set of now-cleaned glass vials carefully into my Potions kit, I nearly laughed aloud as I recall how cute he'd looked standing there saying that.

And what'd he say right after that?

Ah yes ...

"... If it weren't for Evan, I'd certainly fail it."

Evan. Eternally full of surprises, apparently. At least that's the impression Rosier'd left on me. And I now repeated the same usual mental checklist I've begun forming regarding Evan:

Undeniably handsome - I mean, those eyes -

Come on. Can't deny the eyes.

Anyway ... moving on,