The Serpent and the Lion [L.S]

Chapter 3

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Two Mondays later, Louis is standing in front of his brass cauldron, stirring his potion slowly. 

As it had been for the past few classes with Harry as his "partner," (a term which Louis used very loosely,) Louis is completing today's potion alone.

It's a genuine mystery to Louis how Harry continues turning in completed homework assignments week after week, seeing as the boy is never truly paying attention - but that was outside Louis's realm of responsibility, and furthermore, way outside his realm of caring.

Still, it bothers him.

"You know, you could at least pretend to put in an effort." Louis grumbles. Squinting at the text book laid open on the table, he reads the next line of instructions.

USE MORTAR AND PESTLE TO GRIND FOUR LIONFISH SPINES. 

Beside him, Harry is slouched deeply on his stool, his head down and buried between his folded arms. He hasn't moved in over ten minutes. When his comment goes without reply, Louis isn't sure if he's actually awake or asleep.

Louis had noticed that Harry seemed particularly irritable today, from the way he dragged himself into class with a sluggish crawl as opposed to his usual pretentious swagger, deep rings set under his eyes. His hair was mussed, a crown of disarranged curls on his head, and even his robes were even wrinkled; it was odd, considering how annoyingly well-put together Styles is on a normal basis.

"What would I need to do that for?" He mumbles without lifting his head, the words slightly muffled by the fabric of his robes. Awake, then. "You're perfectly capable of doing this yourself."

"I don't think Doyle would agree." Louis hums, shrugging one shoulder.

The Professor strolls along in the front of the classroom, periodically peering over students' shoulders to assess the state of their concoctions.

At Louis's words, Harry pokes one squinted eye out from between his arms and watches as Doyle begins to cross to their side of the room. 

Harry's eyes roll back and comes to his feet, begrudgingly, standing shoulder to shoulder next to Louis. He yanks the spoon from Louis's grip and makes a grand show of stirring, but Louis is quick to correct his technique.

"Oi, hold on," Louis places his hand over Harry's own and shows him. "Twice counterclockwise, once clockwise. Unless you want it to blow up in our faces."

Harry snorts at Louis's warning, and shoves his hand away. "That's a little dramatic, don't you think?"

"Why don't you fuck it up and find out?"

Harry shoots Louis a nasty glare right as Doyle stops ahead of their table, surveying the lilac elixir, which has just started shimmering appropriately. The professor holds his hand out silently, and Louis instinctively offers the ladle to him. He dips it in cautiously, and tests out the consistency, and after a beat, he nods.

"Very good progress. It's just the right hue of purple. Don't forget to add the Infusion of Wormwood after you've let the mixture come to room temperature. Common mistake among most. If you lower the fire now, it should be ready in about fifteen minutes, or so."

Louis nods, and Harry gives a weary thumbs-up in response.

As soon as Doyle sets off to the next pair of students, Harry plops back onto his seat again, in the same, drooped-over position.

"You um," Louis eyes him up and down. "You look awful."

"Shut it, Tomlinson."

"No, really. You look like shit."