Scorched and Bruised ; Draco Malfoy

☾｡✩˚𝓐𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓪˚✩｡☽

Star and her friends descended into the dungeon, where Snape's former potions classroom now belonged to Slughorn. The corridor bustled with a bit over a dozen students who had made it into N.E.W.T. level.

Emerging from the classroom, the newly returned Professor Slughorn greeted his students with a cheery attitude and a friendly smile. Star caught a whiff of peculiar scents and vapours wafting from the door as they entered. Inside, she noticed four potions arranged neatly around the room.

The classroom was still as cold as ever, but it didn't have the doom and gloom as it had with Snape. That atmosphere now lingered in the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom—while Slughorn's redesigned room exuded a more inviting ambience despite the lingering cold.

The absence of Snape as the potion instructor felt peculiar to Star. The sombre Professor was her favourite among the staff, despite the prevailing opinion that he was loathed.

In her eyes, he excelled at his position: intelligent, direct, and precise. He tended to teeter on the occasional line of bullying students, but she often found it amusing.

Although he remained her Professor for N.E.W.T. Defence Against the Dark Arts, and she was genuinely happy for him (even offering congratulations, to which the corner of his mouth twitched subtly), she couldn't help but sulk.

On a different note, Star didn't know about anyone else, but she personally loved his voice. Regardless of Slughorn's bright demeanour, she'd always mentally scrutinize him for not being her overgrown, sarcastic, bat-like Professor.

"Didn't Slughorn ask you to join a club of some sort?" Pansy muttered to Blaise.

"Yeah, on the train," he replied, his gaze lingering on the four potions.

"A club?" Star asked.

Pansy scoffed. "Some fancy little gathering—Slug Club—that our dear professor here sets up for," Pansy proceeded to do air quotes, "brilliant students."

Star raised a brow, "You're suddenly a scholar Blaise?"

Blaise scoffed, "How many N.E.W.T. classes am I in now?" Blaise crossed his arms with a pout. "Unfortunately, I'm sure that I only got into the club because my mother can't hold down a husband. They all die and somehow we're well off because she miraculously ends up with the gold. Please."

Blaise was in truth a brilliant student. He also harboured a disdain for his mother that had grown over the years, one stepfather at a time.

Star hummed as she not-so-subtly let her eyes rake down Draco's body. "When'd he ask you?"

"You fell asleep on Draco—," Blaise said, casting Draco a sly look, "—when Professor Slughorn called for me. I was there for over an agonizing hour, just talking on and on about famous people we're related to. Potter was supposed to be there too apparently, but I reckon he thinks he's too good for a club."

Star's friends frowned at the mere mention of the Boy-Who-Lived.

As Slughorn commenced the class, the very topic of conversation raised his hand and started making excuses for not having supplies—his redheaded sidekick beside him. The sight of them was unwanted by Star's group of friends

"I haven't got a book or scales or anything — nor's Ron — we didn't realize we'd be able to do the N.E.W.T., you see —"

Draco and Theo scoffed as they eavesdropped on their feeble explanations.

"Ah, yes, Professor McGonagall did mention ... not to worry. my dear boy, not to worry at all. You can use ingredients from the store cupboard today, and I'm sure we can lend you some scale, and we've got a small stock of old books here, they'll do until you can write to Flourish and Blotts...."