Huffily Puffily || Golden Trio

The Mist || xliv

* * * * *

It seemed, at least, that Professor McGonagall had done everything in her power to keep Lucy and Harry from sharing a class. She had heard tales of their disasters in other subjects— like how she and Harry had miniature duels in Charms, and their paper-Quidditch matches in History of Magic.

Lucy understood her nerves. Harry was not usually a troublemaker, but when they were in the same class, he resembled his father a lot more than he normally would.

Perhaps giving him his dad's files was not the best choice for McGonagall's mental health.

"Harry, will you get your bony elbows away from my candlestick? I'm trying to work," Lucy scowled when Harry elbowed her on accident. He wasn't the greatest at Transfiguration, and it might've had to do with the fact that he thought waving his wand as hard as he could would somehow make the object transfigure.

"You're not trying to work, I am," Harry retorted. "You've been throwing paper at Ron since we've got here."

"You've been what?" Ron demanded. He turned around to face them, and a few pieces of crumpled up parchment fell from his hair onto the floor. He watched them fall with a stunned expression. Then he scowled. "Thanks a lot, Luce. I've always wanted to look like a filing cabinet. Really, I have."

"I'm only trying to help you achieve your dreams, Ronald," she said sweetly.

All of a sudden, a piece of parchment hit her in the cheek. She slowly turned her head to look at Harry, who wore a too-innocent expression on his face.

Kindly, she said, "This is why Voldemort's trying to kill you, Harry."

Harry shrugged in a 'yeah, I suppose' sort of way. Professor McGonagall was not as understanding. She stared at Lucy like she had personally tried to kill Harry herself. "Ms. Rochester, really!" She said, aghast.

"It's alright, Professor, Lucy knows Voldemort better than I do," Harry replied, just as kindly.

McGonagall's lips turned to a thin line. "Do I need to separate you two?"

The smiles slid off their faces. Dear Merlin, classes would be unbearable if that happened.

They'd tried switching up their partners in other classes. It never worked out. With Ron, Harry would never get anything done and Lucy would torment the poor Weasley too much. With Hermione, Harry would still never get anything done, since he was too busy copying her notes. Again, Lucy tormented Hermione too much. No, their duo was the only one with legs to stand on— Lucy's work ethic was too unpredictable for Harry to rely on, and Harry was too kind for her to fully argue with.

With the professor's threat, they quickly turned back to their individual projects, working quiet as a mouse.

"Works every time," McGonagall muttered.

As per usual, their silence didn't last long. Harry's efforts in making his spell work grew more aggressive as the class went one, and it wasn't long before he elbowed Lucy again.

"Do you want to duel, Potter? Is that what's about to happen right now?" She demanded, pointing her wand at him.

He rolled his eyes and grabbed her arm, forcing it down to the desk. "Will you calm down? If we get moved, I don't want to have to sit next to Ron. He's a nightmare, honestly."

"I'm just sitting here!" Ron said, offended.

They ignored him.

Hermione sniffed, leaning back in her chair. "Hurts, doesn't it?" She asked with a pointed stare.