CRY TO ME [h. potter x oc]

CHAPTER 5

DRACO DID not return for classes until Thursday the same week, this time sporting a sling, and a tall tale of pain and anguish due to his poor, poor broken arm. Walking into double potions class, Pansy, one of the Slytherins, instantly cooed over him, drawing the attention of most of the other members of his house, so they could fawn and express their concern.

"There's no way that can hurt that badly," Neville mumbled from next to me, holding his toad Trevor in one hand, and hauling his books dangerously under his arm in the other.

"Amputation?" I echoed a bit dully as I caught a snippet of Draco explaining how he almost lost his arm if it hadn't been for the resident school nurse.

"He's really hamming it up," Ron scoffed from a while away, as he stood nearby, slugging his books to the ground with an angry thump.

"Y'know, he'd make a brilliant actor," I observed, setting my books down pointedly, as Professor Snape swooped in like the angel of death, killing the noise in the room.

We were explained to that we were to make a shrinking solution today; which made me look visibly sceptical, because somehow I still wasn't convinced following all that I'd seen so far; yet all the same, the cauldrons came out, and we set up camp to begin, with the ingredients all set out for us to prepare. As I bungled out my cauldron, Neville dropped his at first with a clatter, and I winced at the noise.

"Sorry," he mumbled in a meek tone, as I touched my ear, with a genuine shudder of discontent.

"It's fine. I think I've got hypersensitive hearing or something," I responded, with a slight frown, as I peered down at the set of things we'd been given — including sliced caterpillars, which made me baulk.

As the lesson went on, as per usual, there were the usual spats between Draco and the Gryffindor trio, since apparently the little boy couldn't chop his own damn ingredients, and Ron and Harry were instead forced to do it by Snape, who clearly couldn't care less about the abuse of power. I barely managed to cut the dead insect on the chopping board without throwing up all over my shoes, and probably into my cauldron too.

As I worked, squinting at the instructions I'd written down half heartedly that Snape had barked out, I took a second to look at Neville, to find him adding two rat spleens. "Neville, I think he only said one," I muttered cautiously, and as if on cue, Neville's potion turned a horrific shade of vomit orange.

"Oh Merlin," he gasped out in horror, unfortunately drawing the entire attention of the class.

Snape whipped around as if he'd smelled something foul, and moved over to the cauldron, staring into it in disgust, before moving the ladle to expose the potion. "Orange." He said icily, "Does anything penetrate that thick skull of yours, Longbottom? Did I not explicitly say that one rat spleen was enough? That you only need a dash of leech juice?"

Neville looked like he was about to burst into tears, pink in the face out of embarrassment.

My expression faltered at the sight, and I moved forwards in concern to look down at what he'd written, only for Snape to swiftly command, "Miss Raed, you will not be helping him to correct his potion. At the end of this lesson, if this potion is not corrected, you will be having detention tonight."

When he turned and left, Neville slumped over, and moaned out, "I've got to visit Professor Sprout tonight, she'll kill me if I don't help her re-pot the mandrakes."

"Christ above — look, try adding some caterpillars," I muttered weakly, giving my own messy green liquid a counter turn, "I read... somewhere that it makes things more acidic in potions, and — god, just try it."