Potions Partner

"Come now, Maus, surely it cannot take you this long to find one simple potions ingredient?" Beca Mitchell was torn from her bitter thoughts by a heavily accented voice and she inwardly kicked herself, those bitter thoughts growing as that German accent rung in her ears.

"No!" she tried to snap defensively, but her voice came out in a crack and the woman at her side gave a harsh laugh.

"Mein Gott! You really are eine maus!" she crowed.

"Let it go, Kommissar," Beca hunched her shoulders and shoved a few strands of unicorn tail hair at the taller, older woman. The woman smirked smugly back down at little Beca, that infuriating smile practically engraved into her physically flawless face. Wait, what?

Beca fought the urge to bury her own face into her hand in exasperation with herself. What was wrong with her? Where had the broody, badass Beca gone? Where had the girl who stood alone and off to the side, too cool for anyone else, gone? Where had Beca "IDGAF" Mitchell gone? Where had Beca "Leave Me Alone" Mitchell gone? Why had she suddenly been replaced with a lovesick, starstruck, doe-eyed, tongue-tied twit who couldn't even think straight (pun fully intended) around this impossibly tall, impossibly mean, impossibly perfect German goddess?

Dang it! See? Beca couldn't even think poorly of the woman without her subconscious melting into a pile of goo and complimenting her helplessly. If she didn't know any better, Beca would've guessed that Kommissar had somehow forced a love potion down her throat while she was sleeping. But no, that couldn't have been possible. Not only would Beca have felt Kommissar doing this, but because love potions were so risky to use, they were banned at Hogwarts outside of getting permission from the potions master himself and even though he probably would've given Kommissar his consent, what with her being a Slytherin and all, the odds were low that this would've actually been the case. Additionally, a love potion was supposed to make one fall in love (duh) but this wasn't love! No matter what anyone said, these strange feelings Beca had for Kommissar weren't even remotely close to love! Not at all! Beca couldn't even stand Kommissar! Let alone love her! So no, this was so not a love potion! Not at all! It wasn't even some stupid schoolgirl crush of her own mind's doing! No, not at all! Not even a little...

"Well, Maus, what is the next ingredient?" once again, Kommissar's all-too-happy voice interrupted her bitter thoughts and Beca, for about the millionth time that potions class, mentally kicked herself. "Or is it now becoming too much of a struggle for you to even read plain English?" the blond continued, German accent especially thick here to remind the smaller witch of the fact that she knew eight languages and, right now, it seemed that Beca barely knew one. As Beca remained silent, trying to compose herself, she didn't even realize what an idiot she looked like by not responding to her potion partner's taunting question.

"Well, Maus?" the German repeated. "Shall I spell it out for you?" she reached for the potions textbook they were sharing.

"No!" once again, Beca's response was far too quick and defensive to be taken seriously. Trying to cover up how flustered she felt, the smaller witch snatched up the potions textbook first and began to read aloud, in a pathetic attempt at showing off.

"Five unicorn tail hairs, one vial of dragon's blood, rue crushed with pansies and rosemary, fire seeds, three fairy wings-"

"Libeling, I do not think it is necessary for you to show off your literary skills to the entire class," Kommissar finally interrupted Beca's feeble attempt at showing how in control she was by pointing out to the younger girl that her voice was carrying to the entire dungeon. Beca paused mid-word, choking on the last syllable as she realized, with dread and despair, that her German rival was totally right. The entire dungeon was staring strangely at her now and suddenly, Beca's face felt hotter than the flames her cauldron was sitting on. She put her textbook down in as dignified a manner as possible, though her embarrassment was so thick that even a knife wouldn't have cut it.