Dramione Diaries | Fluffy Oneshots

20 | potion problems

"—It's eight times! However, the eighth time is stirred clockwise!"

"Stop making things up!" she nearly shrieked, her eyes shadowing with craze from having to deal with him. "It should be seven times, as stated in this potions book in bold letters and black ink. Are you blind or are you just an idiot?"

"You make me want to stab you with this knife!" Draco sneered, stealing the knife she placed onto the table and waving it under the glinting light. Hermione scoffed, crossing her arms and fully faced him as if taunting him to even dare try.

"At least I won't be a wuss about it!" She growled. "I'll make you swallow this whole Drought of Living Death potion when we're finished with it!"

"We wouldn't even get to finish it because you and your this-is-not-proper attitude is keeping us from actually doing anything!" His anger caused him to swing the knife to stab onto the wooden table, letting the tip stick between the splinters of wood as the rest of the knife protruded up towards the ceiling.

"No," she denied with narrowed eyes, "your bigoted I'm-better-so-let's-do-it-my-way attitude is a hindrance! Move your pride so we can finish!"

"My pride?!" He scoffed incredulously, his upper lip twitching into a jeer, "What a joke. If you want to do it your way then make your own!"

You know, I actually assumed we'd be good partners. You're admittedly good at potions, and well, I'm the first in classes. And how we grew our tolerance of each other, I thought things would go swimmingly.

"Perhaps I will!" She shrilled, glaring at the boy who returned one just as intensive.

"Great, then I can finally finish faster!" He turned to face his cauldron and left her be, taking a bean and hovering it over the cauldron.

"Absolutely not!" Hermione went to lunge at him to cover her hand over his, preventing him from leaking the juices out of the bean. "This is mine. You go make your own."

"Excuse me?" he glowered, "I'm the one who did most of the work here! I should continue this myself."

"You just dropped the ingredients in and stirred!" She groaned, "I did all the actual work trying to obtain these and mincing them and whatnot!"

But sometimes I think our built up tolerance towards each other will backtrack to loathing again.

"If we're going to argue about who takes this potion, might as well just stay together then," he snapped, releasing a tired sigh afterwards. His burnt-out gaze shifted to his hovering hand still clutching the bean, a slight frown on his face, "And you're still holding my hand."

She immediately withdrew her hold with a scowl, and much to his disappointment, the warmth disappeared.

"I still think we should follow the book," she commented, her voice now hushed as the adrenaline from their argument faded into tense crisps.

"And I still think my way is faster," he added in similar intonation.

"Of course you do," her gaze lingered on the potions book, her ears that were focused solely on his voice had now broadened to hear the busy noise of her classmates casually conversing or shrieking as their potions exploded in their faces.