Clean

The Seven

Chapter 14: The Seven

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Day 1

She wiped the sweat off her forehead, grumbling. "I can't believe it has to be so hot in here."

He made a face as a drop of perspiration dripped perilously down his back. "My fault," he said between gritted teeth. "Had to pick the hardest potion with the highest possible melting point."

She sighed, a tiny laugh escaping. "I don't know," she admitted. "I kind of like it."

"What? The heat?"

"No, of course not," she said impatiently. "This, the potion. It's a challenge."

"True," he said, nodding. He stood from where they were crouched around the cauldron, reaching for one of the many vibrantly colored vials of liquid. "Here, move over a little bit."

He brushed her arm as he leaned over, tipping the contents of the vial into the rapidly bubbling concoction before them. He smelled a little bit like leather and jasmine – masculine, with a sweet finish. Sophisticated, like him.

She glanced back at the textbook and frowned. "We have to add the wormwood essence next but it will become a vapor, if we try to pour it in at this heat – can we cool the potion first?"

He shook his head. "No. If we do that, the remaining potion will solidify." He cocked his head to the side, thinking. "Keep stirring," he instructed, taking hold of the next vial.

He muttered something that she couldn't quite hear, and then flicked his wrist gracefully, his long fingers resting on his wand lightly like a cellist on his bow.

She watched as the air around them seemed to swirl, wrapping itself tightly into a small cyclone, spinning above the cauldron. It knitted itself into a narrow, cotton-candy-spun funnel, with its tip no more than a centimeter above the reach of the bubbling potion. From her vantage point she could see that the inside was crystallized, as though lined with icy stalactites. He steadily rotated his wand, maintaining the revolution of his tornado-like creation, while he used his free hand to pour the wormwood essence into the mixture. When the last drop had emptied, he flicked his wrist again, blinking from the effort.

"Malfoy, that was – that was amazing," she said, mouth agape. "Your spell work – it's beautiful. Really beautiful."

He shrugged, trying to hide his smile. "It was basically a refrigerated straw, Granger," he said matter-of-factly. "You could easily have done it."

"But I didn't," she reminded him. "That was a good idea."

He groaned. "Stop it, Granger," he said grumpily. "I don't know how to handle you being nice to me."

She smiled at him.

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Day 2

"You know, I never thanked you for scolding Weasley the other day," he said offhandedly. "Those two are the living worst."

She laughed. "They have toned it down a bit since then, haven't they?"

"Not nearly enough," he muttered. "How Weasley gets any action is beyond me – "

"Hey!" she exclaimed, her cheeks burning. "He's – he's not that bad."

"Ah," he said obnoxiously. "I forgot that you two used to – "

"Oh, shut up, Malfoy! It's not like you haven't made poor choices yourself, what with Pansy Parkinson and heaven knows who else – "