Mischief Managed

31: Potions and Pubs

I have so much love. It terrifies me still, even after all these years.

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"No, you're doing it wrong, dittany is an antidote, not a poison," Remus chided, his face scrunching with frustration. "How were you even allowed to miss this much of your studies?"

I blotted out what little of my Potions essay I'd written so far and twiddled my quill in my fingers. "I don't know," I replied. "I guess I was supposed to study on my own, but...I...that never happened."

Remus put his head in his hands, slouching his shoulders as if he'd decided I was hopeless.

I dipped my quill in fresh ink and attempted, "Remus, I'll try harder, alright, I'm sure I can catch up by exams if I work hard enough."

The thought of so much extra study hurt my head, but I couldn't afford to graduate a year late.

I began writing. "See, Moony," I declared, finishing the first line, "I can do this, even if you think-"

I paused. Something caught my eye.

Not far from the library table Remus and I had claimed was a group of Hufflepuffs in our year. I knew even before I'd looked closely at their faces that Dylan and his friends would be there.

I couldn't look away fast enough, and Dylan met my eyes. Awkwardness passed through me in chills, but I forced a smile anyways. Dylan smiled back, but his friends silently jeered, shooting me filthy looks. I'd thought my break-up letter to Dylan was fairly acceptable- I mean, yes, it hadn't been in person, but I thought a well-composed letter was sufficient, given the circumstances.

Dylan seemed to be fine with it, though I hadn't seen him much since I'd been back, but his friends clearly thought little of me.

Remus caught my gaze and shook his head. "Just ignore them, Bree," he said.

One of them flashed me a filthy gesture. I raised my hand in equally vulgar response.

Remus grabbed my hand and hurriedly closed my fingers into a fist.

"Don't do that!" he exclaimed, horrified.

I curled my lip and said nastily, "I'm sick of them acting like I'm some sort of witch."

"Well," Remus started, but I silenced him with a vicious glare.

"Anyway," I continued, "it's not like...I didn't mean to hurt Dylan's feelings. I was trying to spare him." My shoulders slunk forward.

He squeezed my hand. "I think Dylan understands. He doesn't seem bitter."

"Yeah," I said, nodding as my eyes wandered back to where Dylan was standing. His head was bent, his expression tense as he talked to the friend who had thrown me the gesture. "I guess. I don't know."

Remus opened his mouth, but I shook my head. "Let's not talk about it. Tell me about you."

Remus separated his hand from mine and laughed. "Me? There's nothing to talk about."

I twirled my quill in my fingers. "Oh, really? How about...what you had for breakfast?"

Laughing again, he said, more seriously, "Really, Bree, there's nothing."

I poked him with my quill tip. "You sure, Moony?"

He squirmed as I continued to poke his side. "Yes! I'm fine!"

"Hmm," I said, pursing my lips. I raised the quill to his forehead and hovered the ink-dipped tip above his skin.

"Fine! Fine!" he exclaimed, swatting down the quill. In a quieter voice, he confessed, "I had marmalade toast."