Ella Potter (Draco Malfoy)

Chapter 41

"I'm so excited that Quidditch will resume this year," Ella squeals as they walked into the Great Hall the next morning "I've been practicing all summer."

"Have you now?" Draco questions.

"Yep, got a new broom too." Ella tells him.

Ella and Draco took their usually seats at the Slytherin table. With a whoosh and a clatter, hundreds of owls came soaring in through the upper windows. They descended all over the Hall, bringing letters and packages to their owners and showering the breakfasters with droplets of water; it was clearly raining hard outside.

Draco and Ella were finishing breakfast as Snape walked down the aisle handing out schedules. Ella took hers happily and cheered.

"Yes, double potions!" Ella says excitedly.

"You just like to be in your father's class cause you're his favorite," Draco points out.

"Of course," Ella replies "we're his favorite."

"Your father's favoritism won't help for OWL's." Draco tells her.

"Oh, bloody hell," Ella puts her head down "I hate exams."

The Slytherins made their way through their classes quietly, Ella was just waiting until it was finally time for potions. The ominous sound of Snape's dungeon door creaking open filled her with joy before they entered with the Gryffindors.

"How's the first day of classes going dad?" Ella asks as she entered the room.

"Know it alls and idiots," was Snape's reply "yours?"

"Boring," Ella replies before taking her seat beside Draco.

The moment the class had heard the door close, quiet had fallen and all fidgeting stopped. Snape's mere presence was usually enough to ensure a class's silence.

"Before we begin today's lesson," said Snape, sweeping over to his desk and staring around at them all, "I think it appropriate to remind you that next June you will be sitting an important examination, during which you will prove how much you have learned about the composition and use of magical potions. Moronic though some of this class undoubtedly are, I expect you to scrape an 'Acceptable' in your O.W.L. or suffer my . . . displeasure." 

 His gaze lingered this time upon Neville, who gulped. 

 "After this year, of course, many of you will cease studying with me," Snape went on. "I take only the very best into my N.E.W.T. Potions class, which means that some of us will certainly be saying good-bye." 

 His eyes rested on Harry and his lip curled. Harry glared back, feeling a grim pleasure at the idea that he would be able to give up Potions after fifth year. 

 "But we have another year to go before that happy moment of farewell," said Snape softly, "so whether you are intending to attempt N.E.W.T. or not, I advise all of you to concentrate your efforts upon maintaining the high-pass level I have come to expect from my O.W.L. students."

He smiles to Ella and Draco at the front desk. "Today we will be mixing a potion that often comes up at Ordinary Wizarding Level: the Draught of Peace, a potion to calm anxiety and soothe agitation. Be warned: If you are too heavy-handed with the ingredients you will put the drinker into a heavy and sometimes irreversible sleep, so you will need to pay close attention to what you are doing." 

On Harry's left, Hermione sat up a little straighter, her expression one of the utmost attentiveness. "The ingredients and method" — Snape flicked his wand — "are on the blackboard" — (they appeared there) — "you will find everything you need" — he flicked his wand again — "in the store cupboard" — (the door of the said cupboard sprang open) — "you have an hour and a half... Start."