Bathwater

The Art of Cohabitation

"Excuse me, Professor?"

"Yes, Miss Granger, go ahead—Oh. Miss Abbot," Professor Sprout looked up from a compilation of old books left on the desk she sat behind. She startled at seeing Hannah's arm in the air; she blinked at where Hermione sat, pulling out her fresh, neat parchment rolls and her nifty muggle pen from inside her schoolbag. Students within earshot laughed at Professor Sprout's confusion and the embarrassed, growing pink in Hannah's cheeks. "Sorry. What is it, dear?"

"Are you subbing in for Professor Flitwick today?" asked Hannah, her arm coming down to cross over and rest on the surface of her desk. Beside her, Neville squeezed her elbow, smiling sweetly at her that the blush under her skin was no longer from embarrassment but an overwhelming burst of butterflies in her stomach at how he looked at her. 

Professor Sprout let out a loud laugh, startling Nott from his dozing off in his place squashed between Romilda Vane and Blake Harper. "Flitwick quit, Miss Abbot."

"Quit?" repeated Seamus, a frown settling between his brows. "He can't quit. They said we can't quit."

"You can't, Mr. Finnegan," Sprout said with another laugh, this time shaking her head at him like he was still that silly little boy that made her laugh with his silly little jokes. "Professor Flitwick just thought this particular class was an unnecessary weight to everything he has to do this term."

"You two have officially fucked up Flitwick," Blaise Zabini laughed, leaning over to Draco on his left, nudging him roughly. Next to him, his betrothed Cho Chang narrowed her brown eyes at his volume. "One class with you and Granger and he goes running the opposite way. Bloody terrors, the two of you."

On Draco's own left, Hermione leaned further in to get a better look at Blaise. He stilled at the proximity, at the warmth of her aura grazing his, a murmur on his skin that made him both freeze and burn. 

"Stop talking or I'll glue your tongue to the roof of your mouth, Zabini," Hermione said through clenched teeth, raising a finger at him. 

If she had been anyone else, the latter would have laughed at the sight and over-the-top threat, but Blaise would never question that Hermione Granger could do a decent amount of damage with a twitch of her finger just as if she was pointing her wand at him. 

"Defend me, mate," Blaise mumbled as he pushed against Draco's arm, adding a safe distance between him and Hermione, but further pressing Draco into her side. Immediately, he slid over to the furthest edge of their shared bench.

"True love," said Sprout, her voice ringing through the classroom crowded with couples, startling them from their individual conversations and daydreams.  "That is why people marry, is it not?"

"Unplanned pregnancies—"

"Drunken nights—"

"Pureblood mania—"

"Marriage laws forced upon us by the Ministry—"

Professor Sprout blinked at the fire round of responses echoing from different spots around the room. When she processed each, she let out another laugh. "I will rephrase then—true love is what we aspire to have when we make the choice to marry. It is both the knowledge and acceptance that the person next to you is a flawed, but ideal partner to share your life and a home with. Someone who is compatible with you. And while we are all here by unusual circumstances, the Ministry believes in compatibility."

"Because of a sorting hat?" This time it was Hermione whose arm shot up, waving it frantically like Professor Sprout would have a difficult time spotting her from the herd of students mumbling to each other. At her voice, the others quieted, turning to her with furrowed brows of concentration or a small curl of their lips. "Compatibility is not a science when it comes to people. It is impossible to look at a couple and infer true love on them because of how they look side by side or because they might have a few things in common. The sorting hat itself isn't foolproof. Yes, it was created to look within a person to place them in a specific House, but that can be manipulated."