Choice's Curse {d.m.}

The Frightening Reality of Feelings

Not that I cared. Liar. Our interactions, in some sick and twisted way, was my way of punishing myself. For what, I didn't know, but it was.

I spent those three minutes pulling out my things and flipping to the right page in my book, making me remember the first day of classes when it had miraculously, and all on its own, landed on the right recipe. Maybe a gust of wind, but wind wasn't usually so precise.

Another peculiar thing to add to the ever-growing list in this period.

Slughorn toddered to the front of the classroom, ready to begin the lesson, and Malfoy still was not present. "The Wound-Cleaning potion. An incredibly useful spell to know, especially for those that seem to attract trouble," Slughorn spoke, eyeing both me and Harry. "Purple in color, it smokes and stings when applied, but almost immediately heals the affected area. I believe that many of you are familiar with this, even if you weren't aware of what it was at the time."

A phantom pain brushed my shoulder as I recalled our fourth year, when I had been distracted while in Herbology, and had earned a nasty cut that spanned from the top of my shoulder to the middle of my collar bone. The wound had immediately started bleeding, and Neville nearly fainted at the sight of so much crimson liquid that had flowed from my shoulder at an alarming rate. Madam Pomfrey had naturally fixed it up in less than an hour, but the pain I endured during the walk from the greenhouse to the infirmary still made me wince, the faint scar that still remained on my skin joining the extensive collection I previously possessed.

"I have chosen this to be our next potion, because try as we might, the staff cannot always guarantee your safety, and it will assure that if there ever were an incident, you all could have proper materials to patch up a friend, or perhaps even save a life," Slughorn continued. "Please turn to page two hundred and seventy-seven to glance over the list of ingredients before I begin the demonstration."

The room filled with the sound of pages turning, and I sat, my book already at the appropriate page. Glancing over the ingredients, I was happy to recognise the majority of them, hopefully meaning that this potion wouldn't be as difficult as the last few Slughorn had assigned.

"Once you have read over the list, please, in an orderly fashion, retrieve your ingredients and begin your task," Slughorn said, returning to sit behind his desk and flipping through our last paper on the bezoar.

I joined Harry and Hermione as they made their way to the storage room, everyone grabbing what they needed for the potion.

"Odd that Malfoy isn't here," I said, picking up a glass bottle full of bright green powder.

"Isn't it a good thing, though? Means he won't be bothering you," Hermione responded, grabbing the bottle out of my hand and replacing it with the correct one, a small one filled with blue powder. I smiled sheepishly at her in thanks.

"No, it is. I never enjoy dealing with that git; it's just strange, I guess," I said, finishing grabbing my ingredients and waiting for the two of them to do the same.

Harry, picking up two bezoars and handing them to Hermione and I, said, "Well, I'm glad he isn't here. I hate that bastard more than anything, and I really hate the way he talks to you, Elaine. Someone needs to put him in his place."

I shook my head. "I think that would just make things worse, honestly. I've just tried to ignore him, and it hasn't seemed to go too badly so far," I explained, though I didn't want to admit that I had almost expected him to back off after he saw Harry and I outside of my class a bit ago. Malfoy had just been so off, and I still was no closer to figuring out why.

"Well, wherever he is, I hope he hits his head; maybe that'll knock some sense into his ridiculously blond head," Hermione said simply, making Harry and I both choke out a surprised laugh.