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𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒘𝒐, hera, queen of olympus
"𝕸R. BLACK, IF YOU'D PLEASE STOP staring at Miss Jones' right ear, we'll continue with the lesson."
Sirius jumped at the sound of McGonagall's voice and the suppressed laughter of the Transfiguration class. Jones, apparently, was her surname. He blinked, a sheepish grin stretching across his face. "Sorry, Minnie."
Professor McGonagall only huffed in exasperation, turning back to her lecture on transfiguring smoke into silver. Sirius barely registered it. He was too transfixed by Jones, who sat two rows in front of him. Jones Jones Jones.
Her thick, tousled copper hair was pushed back by a beaded headband, embellished by bits of cream-colored lace, various gold charms, and turquoise gemstones in peculiar shapes. Her Gryffindor tie was loose around her collar, her sleeves were pushed up to her elbows ⎯ everything somehow rumpled in an unintentional effortless, and impeccable way.
Jones glanced back, just briefly over her shoulder, and met his gaze. Sirius' heart leaped at the sight, subconsciously clinging to every detail of her face that could remember. Her eyes were wide and green with a tinge of blue, lined with smudged cosmetics. Her face was slightly gaunt, as though she were running low on sleep. Her expression was more amused than annoyed, much to his relief.
McGonagall cleared her throat, eyeing the two of them suspiciously. "Very well, pair up everyone! Practice the incantations and wand movement separately before attempting to perform it."
A subtle smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, Sirius seized his chance. Within three paces, he smoothly slipped into the empty seat beside Jones. "Hey, partner."
Jones looked at him. "Pardon?"
Her voice stunned him, though Sirius refused to let it show. It was airy and sultry all at once, leaving the taste of mystery and melody in its wake. He gave an effortless shrug. "We're doing this assignment, aren't we?"
She side-eyed him. "Okay," she drawled slowly. "Give it a go then."
"You bet," Sirius answered. "What's the spell again?"
Surprisingly, she didn't roll her eyes or mock him for not paying attention to McGonagall's detailed lecture. Instead, she simply said, "Watch." Jones raised her wand and muttered, "Fumum." A thick cloud of smoke began to pour from the tip of her wand. With a sharp flick of her wrist, she guided the smoke into a tighter, denser circle. Once it appeared nearly solid, she commanded, "Argentis."
The smoke flashed a bright ivory color and slowly faded away, revealing a smooth, flat stone-shaped chunk of gleaming silver. "Your turn," she asserted, though not unkindly.
