𝐒𝐎 𝐒𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐍; 𝐞𝐯𝐚𝐧 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐞𝐫.

𝐢𝐯: 𝐢 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 :) at the very end lol so if that is an issue for you i will provide another warning right beforehand so you can read the actual plot

𝐀𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐲—𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤. First of all, Remus had already checked himself into the Hospital Wing, unable to even function properly. His eyebags were more prominent, dark and protruding, and his mannerisms were duller, more mundane.

She sat, in Potions, ignoring Evan pointedly when he stiffly sat down next to her. She hadn't seen him much since the incident at the Quidditch pitch, and was dead set on pretending it never ever happened. 

Amara seemed to be hyper-aware of all his actions as he plopped his bag on the ground beside him and ran a hand through his dark hair. She sighed, turning around to look at James, who was, unfortunately engaged in furious debate with Marlene McKinnon. 

"Good morning, sixth years," Slughorn said fondly, clapping his sausage-like hands together. "Now, something most unfortunate happened to our supply stock, and most items won't come in until tomorrow evening. So today, I'd like everyone to make up a potion with their seat partner. It can be about anything: warts, forgetfulness, painkillers—anything. Try and think of the most accurate ingredients you can put in, and guess the doses. Next time I see you, we'll have the ingredients in, and I'd like you to make the potions as best you can. Closest solution wins!"

Amara groaned inwardly and pulled out her pad of parchment. She made reluctant eye contact with Evan, eyeing him warily. "Alright, then. What should we make?"

"Don't tell me you're actually giving me equal say," he said easily. His jaw clenched and unclenched randomly as he flipped through his Potions textbook. His movements were lazy, but Amara's gaze followed the tendons and veins on his hand as they flicked through the pages.

"Any ideas?" she said dully. "And don't say something stupid."

"Just how dense do you think I am, Avison?" Evan demanded. He sighed. "Let's make a sobering potion."

"Ever heard of keeping your academic life separate from your personal one?" Amara said. "I don't think Sluggy will like that very much."

"I suppose you're right. Truth serum?"

She rolled her eyes. "Let's not do something stupidly hard."

Evan adopted a look of mock sympathy. "You're right—I shouldn't have assumed you could do anything that required actual magic. You know—being a Mudblood, and all."

"Oh, shut the hell up," she snapped, reaching into her bag to find her quill. However, her hand brushed against the bruise cream she'd shared with Sirius on the train, and it clattered out onto the desk. Feeling a rising sensation of panic in her throat, Amara reached out to grab it, but Evan beat her to it.

He held the small tub in his hand, examining it carefully. "This wouldn't have to do with what you were showing Potter the other day, would it?" he asked, looking at her rather intensely.

"Oh, sod off," Amara snapped, trying hard to stay calm. "Rosier, I swear to God, let's just make our potion and then you don't have to talk to me anymore—"

He dropped the glass tub, and, with a glorious shattering sound, it split into a thousand pieces on the cold, stone floor.

"Evan Rosier, you absolute and unmitigated asshat," she seethed, standing up. Her fists clenched tightly at her sides, pulsing erratically.