*✧·ﾟ:* DEAD TO ME *:·ﾟ✧*
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"FUCK POTIONS," INDIANA muttered, arm in arm with Nancy, as the latter of the two practically dragged her inside the dark classroom. Not only did they share Potions with the Gryffindors, but Indiana had never quite enjoyed it like Nancy had. Nancy was a natural potioneer, even Snape had had enough sense to acknowledge the girls natural talent when he was still alive. Indiana, on the other hand, was positively average at it. And if there was one thing that Indiana hated, it was being average. "Why did I agree to take this again?"
"Because I'm here," Nancy said pleasantly. "And I need this class to become a Healer. And you love me."
"Fuckin' Gryffindors," Indiana muttered as they walked by Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas, who were foolishly throwing a sopophorus bean across the table.
"Quit it," Nancy scolded lightly. "I don't need you bringing your negativity in here, kay? Good vibes only!"
"You sound like bloody Trelawney," Indiana slumped into her seat, dropping her bag to the floor as she watched Nancy set up their shared cauldron for the day. "I'm just saying. Why couldn't we have shared this class with the Ravenclaws or something? At least they're decent to be around."
"Okay Miss I-wonder-if-Fred-Weasley-would-hook-up-with-me —" Nancy started, to which Indiana rose out of her seat and smacked her violently on the arm. Nancy laughed loudly and continued to set up the cauldron.
"Fuck you," Indiana scowled, although her cheeks had a tinged a brilliant pink. "What did you go bringing that up for? Bitch."
"Just sayin'," Nancy shrugged, smiling with her teeth clamped around her tongue a bit. Indiana huffed, tapping her foot a bit out of annoyance as Professor Slughorn gathered his things at the front of the classroom. Draco and Blaise soon joined them at their table, the former looking as though he just rolled out of bed and the latter amused.
"Good morning," Blaise hummed as he sat down as Draco ran his hands through his hair; it had curled up a bit at the ends, giving the impression that he hadn't had time to do it up.
"Who says?" Indiana replied jokingly, her face resting in her palms. Looking at Draco's disheveled appearance, she commented, "You look absolutely awful."
"Do I?" Draco muttered, dropping into his seat with a sigh. "Fuckin' Blaise didn't wake me up."
"Never said I would," Blaise quipped. "Anyways, if you're done complaining, are the rumors true?"
"Rumors?" Indiana repeated idly. "What rumors?"
"There's supposed to be a party tonight," Blaise cleared up. "Slytherin Common Room. Draco, you heard?"
"Oh, fuck, I forgot," Draco rubbed his head, grimacing. "Right after Quidditch, I think, yeah."
"Alright, you lot!" Slughorn chirped from the front of the classroom, to which the chatter about the class quieted down to nothing. Draco was still fiddling with his hair and Nancy's fingers were drumming excitedly on the edge of the table, full attention towards Slughorn. "Something new, today!"
"Please not a project," She heard Draco mutter. "Please not a project —"
"A partner project!" Slughorn grinned.
Both Draco and Indiana collectively let out dramatic sighs, leaning back in frustration. Slughorn's eyes darted over to where the Slytherins were, and instead of scolding them like Snape would have, he only gave a hearty laugh that came from his belly.
"Don't fret, don't fret," Slughorn said aloud, although he was obviously directing it to them. Indiana saw Granger send her a look that may have been a scolding one, but the Slytherin had reached the point with her that she could smirk in return; Granger wasn't all that bad, really. Little bossy, but Indiana didn't really have any room to speak in the bossy department. "It'll only be due in two weeks. If you've been paying attention, it shouldn't be an issue."
"Fuck, I haven't been," Indiana muttered to Nancy, before raising her hand and asking aloud, "Sir, are we picking said partners?"
"They've been assigned, Miss Jones," Slughorn replied, to which Indiana frowned, slumping back in her seat.
"Merlin," Draco slammed his textbook onto the desk with a groan as Slughorn began reading out pairs. He opened it up lazily, leaning so far back in his chair that it looked like he might slip out of it. "Blaise, d'you have the notes for — oh, thanks."
Blaise had handed him a sheet of parchment coated with scribbles before he had even finished. Draco took it graciously, sliding it beside his blank parchment and beginning to scrawl down a copy of the notes.
"Zabini," Slughorn called out, squinting down at his list; Blaise's head perked up, but Draco, Indiana, and Nancy were all listening closely. "You're with Weasley."
Draco snorted rather loudly, earning a kick in the leg from Blaise as he stood up, gathering his things. Indiana smirked, clapping him on the arm as Draco continued to laugh.
"Brilliant match," Indiana sniggered.
"Jones, you're with Potter. . ."
Her face dropped.
"Ha!" Blaise pointed a finger at her, grabbing her by the shoulder and lifting her up out of her seat. Draco let out a rather loud laugh and leaned across the table to whack her on the arm. "You're coming with me, missy!"
"Kill me," Indiana groaned to Nancy as she shrugged her bag over her shoulder. She glanced over towards where the Gryffindors were sat; Granger had moved across the room after being paired up with Theodore, which left an open seat for Indiana and Blaise at their table. The two were whispering to each other from across the table, eyes glancing over at the Slytherins. "Out of all people. I'd rather be with fucking Finnegan."
"You'll manage," Nancy kindly smiled. "Have fun."
"Oh, I can hardly wait," Indiana grumbled, shoving Blaise harshly as she walked by. Blaise jokingly shoved her back as they approached the two Gryffindors. Blaise, who stayed composed, slipping into the seat beside Weasley without a word, unpacking his things. Weasley looked disgusted.
Indiana reluctantly slid into the seat next to Potter, dropping her bag to the floor beside her and slamming her textbook on the table. Not a word was shared between the pair of them as Slughorn went on to tell them about what the project entailed; Indiana zoned out at her hands, fiddling with the golden ring on her finger. Potter was leaned back in his chair, legs spread partially apart, twirling his wand around his long fingers and somehow managing not to drop it.
By the time Slughorn had finished his explanation, both of them stayed quiet for at least five minutes longer than they should have. Blaise and Weasley had exchanged a few words and were now working silently. The former glanced up, sending Indiana a look. She sent one back.
"Dee," Blaise whispered to her, jerking his head towards Potter. She almost groaned in annoyance, but complied nonetheless, scooting to turn her chair and tugging her skirt down closer to her knees.
"Okay, Potter, let's get this over with," She breathed, reaching over to slide her textbook onto her lap. Potter glanced at her left forearm for a split second (Dude, the war is over, get a grip!) before taking his own textbook and flipping it open. "Cure for Boils, no way. . .Veritaserum, absolutely not. . ."
"What's wrong with Veritaserum?" Potter asked accusingly, looking up from his book with his eyebrow slightly twitched up. And then, almost knowingly, he said, "Bad experience with it?"
Weasley snickered.
"The hell is that supposed to mean?" Indiana sat up straight, narrowing her brows.
"Umbridge, fifth year," Potter told her. "She used it on her students. And you just so happened to be a part of her little. . ." He waved his hand around. "Squad."
"Not cause' I liked her, you twat," Indiana said. His jaw seemed to be permanently set around her, as though he were preparing to be arguing with her. "She was a powerful person to have in your corner, s'all —"
"Who cares if she was powerful?" Potter interrupted. "She used Blood Quills on her students — !"
"You think I didn't know that?" Indiana raised her voice, leaning forward. Blaise kicked her under the table, to which she sent him a fiery glare before turning to Potter. She scrunched the sleeve of her right wrist down for him to see and flashed the back of her hand, where a faint white scar of I will not speak out of turn was inscribed. Potter seemed taken aback. "Yeah. Let's just drop it and do the fucking project, yeah?"
"Fine," Potter said quietly. "No Veritaserum, then."
"Polyjuice?"
"Er —" Potter and Weasley exchanged a look. "Next option."
"O—kay," Indiana drawled. "Liquid Luck?"
"Why?" Potter was smirking slightly. "So you can use it for the next Quidditch game?"
"Fuck you," Indiana spat without thinking. "I don't need any Liquid Luck potion. Although, you might wanna lend one to Weasley to make sure we don't have a repeat of fifth year's performance —!"
"Watch it!" Potter scowled and turned fully around, eyes blazing, glasses slightly slipped down the bridge of his nose. Indiana blinked up at him fearlessly with choleric expression, her curls draped over her shoulders and the top of her uniform unbuttoned. She raised her eyebrows once and sucked her top teeth.
"Draught of Living Death?" Indiana went on, her eyes fleetingly glancing over at Slughorn, who was making his rounds along the room.
"No," Potter said firmly.
"Draught of Peace?"
"We did all of these in sixth year," Potter commented, not looking at her. Indiana huffed and put her textbook on the table, the page flipping over from impact.
"Well, I'm sorry for having more important things to do than remember all of my potions work from sixth year," Indiana muttered, leaning back in her chair and crossing her right leg over her left, her skirt riding up her thigh.
"Like what?" Potter said accusingly. Indiana blinked. "Time in the Room of Requirement with Malfoy?"
"Oh, you son of a —"
"Ah, Amortentia!" She jumped and whipped her head around; Slughorn had come over to their table and was peering over her textbook. It had flipped to the page where Amortentia was written in pink, bubbly letters. Potter, although his jaw was still set, gave Slughorn a look that gave the feigned impression that he and Indiana were having a wonderful time. "A wonderful choice! I've only had one pair of students who've successfully brewed it!"
"Oh, we're — that's —" Indiana started frantically.
"Well, I'm sure you and Mr. Potter are more than capable of getting it done," Slughorn nodded to himself, analyzing the list of ingredients. "Ah, yes, powdered moonstone. . . I believe we have just enough, but you'll need to find pearl dust somewhere!
"Before I forget, Harry m'boy," Slughorn added before he had walked away, raising a finger. "I was expecting a much better outcome of your Essence of Insanity, it was nothing like your previous work. What went wrong?"
Before Potter could speak, Indiana blurted, "Oh, Professor, Potter's not any good at Potions."
"Miss Jones!" Slughorn seemed taken aback. Potter's eyes narrowed into a cold glare.
"Yeah, and you're not any good at Herbology," He fired. "You can't even pot a Mandrake."
"When am I ever going to use Herbology?" Indiana said before Slughorn could interrupt.
"When am I ever going to use Potions?"
"When are you ever gonna use that damn brain — ?"
"I say!" Slughorn exclaimed loudly, and when Indiana looked at him, she was surprised to see that he didn't look very amused. Potter clamped his mouth shut, and it was then that Indiana noticed that the classroom was much quieter than it had been. "You both may be fantastic students, but I will not tolerate this kind of arguing in my classroom."
"Sorry, sir," Potter said quickly. Indiana only frowned a bit and glanced down at her Mary Janes.
"Detention," Slughorn said. It was then that Indiana's head shot up, wide as saucers. "This evening."
"But — but sir —!" Indiana sputtered. "Th — there's Quidditch!"
Potter snickered.
"Oh, you too, Mr. Potter, don't think you're off the hook," Slughorn shook his head. Potter's mouth moved wordlessly for a moment, and even in her moment of dread, Indiana couldn't help but be glad it wasn't just her. "Both of you. This evening at nine o'clock. And don't make me regret only giving you one nights' worth."
"Yes, sir," The pair muttered, and as Slughorn walked away, Indiana felt Blaise kick her leg under the table, shooting her a frustrated look. She just frowned, slumping back into her seat and crossing her arms over her chest.
"So, Amortentia?" Weasley asked Potter from across the table. Potter ran a hand through his hair and groaned.
"I guess so," He said. Indiana rolled her eyes into the back of her head in frustration, throwing her head back and blinking blankly up at the ceiling. There was no way she was going to be forced to research a bloody love potion with Potter. . . that was a death sentence. And she had to miss Quidditch practice and the Slytherin party because of this prick? Was the world trying to fuck up her life, or what?
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THE WALK UP to Slughorn's office that evening felt like a walk of shame; she should have been on her way out to the pitch, scolding Goyle about how he should set his position higher in the air so that way when he swooped down to hit the Bludger, he could use his bulkiness to his advantage. Patting Theodore on the shoulder when he managed to catch the Snitch in such a short amount of time that she had a sliver of hope that he'd be able to beat the other teams. Screaming at Bletchley to stop fixing his bloody hair.
But no — she was dragging her toes along the stone floors, her calloused hand fiddling with the end of her bags strap, itching to be holding the base of her Firebolt. Just outside of Slughorn's office, Indiana stood on the tips of her toes to peer outside onto the pitch; she had forced Blaise to hold practice, so she knew her team was in good hands, but even so — the yearning she felt while watching her team practice without her.... She felt like she had in first year, watching the Slytherin team play.
Potter was already in the room when she entered, making her appear later than she was. He was leaned back in his chair, one hand on his knee and the other on his desk, twirling his wand between his fingers like he seemed to always be doing. His legs were spread semi-widely and his jaw clenched every few seconds, his body emitting a sort of aura of power that she realized he had gained since the war ended. She caught her breath and looked away.
"Nice of you to join us, Miss Jones," Slughorn said, his back facing her as she unostentatiously entered.
"Sorry I was late, sir," Indiana forced herself to say, despite arriving a mere four minutes later than she should have been and not really caring if she had made either man wait.
"Quite alright, do sit down," Slughorn waved a hand behind him and directed her to the one other open seat in the room. Avoiding eye contact with Potter and brushing her curls behind her shoulder, she strutted over towards the empty desk beside him and slipped into her chair. Slughorn was stuffing a folder of papers into his bag, and Indiana prayed that he wouldn't leave the pair alone. "Right, you two are going to be making copies of these for me."
Slughorn set down two thick stacks of parchment onto the desk at the front of the room, one that was covered in writing, and the other blank. He glanced up at them with a pleased expression, hands on his pudgy hips.
"No magic, of course," Slughorn specified. "All by hand. I do have a meeting to attend to, but I'll be locking the door to make sure the two of you don't skive off, yes?"
Indiana nodded her head, and although she didn't look over at Potter, she assumed he did the same. She bit the inside of her cheek, crossing one leg over the other and jiggling her heel. Locked in a room with Potter. For fucks sake.
"Good," Slughorn seemed pleased. "Right, well, don't let me hold you up. If I'm not back in time, the door will unlock when your detention is over."
He waddled to the door, his palms facing backwards at his sides and his bag bouncing at his hip. He paused at the door, locking it, and sent them a polite nod, along with pointing his two fingers at his eyes before directing it to them. With that, he shut the door and with a click! they were alone.
Both glancing once at the door, both students got to their feet without a word and stepped forward to grab some of the papers from the front desk. The room was uncomfortably quiet, the only noise the sound of their chairs scraping the floor and their footsteps towards the front.
Indiana reached out to take a few sheets of paper, but Potter did as well, and just as she felt her skin graze his, she hastily drew her hand away. His hand had felt warm; like grabbing a cup of hot tea after being out in the snow for too long. It was like he had burnt her.
His hand twitched for less than a second after it touched hers as though she had burnt him, his pointer and middle finger bending just barely an inch before he went ahead and took his papers and swiftly turned back towards his desk. Indiana clicked her tongue to herself and swiped her papers of the pile before bringing them back to her seat. She took her self-inking quill and got to work, the scratching of quills and soft breathing the only sounds filling the room.
After fifteen minutes of tense and uncomfortable silence, Indiana let her quill drop out of her hands, her fingers cramping. Potter continued to write without any regard for her, but when she stood up out of her seat and crossed the room, he paused.
"What're you doing?" He said slowly as she stood on her toes to look out the small window of the office. "We have to get these done or else he won't let us out, you know."
"Just taking a break, Potter, pipe down," Indiana drawled without turning around, stretching her back as tall as she could in attempts to catch a glimpse of what was going on outside. Huffing, she dragged one of the chairs that had been piled up in the back of the room and scooted it under the window. Potter watched her as she stepped on top of it to watch, her heels lifted off the chair.
"How tall are you?" Potter sounded immensely amused. She whipped her head around, dark eyes glinting. His brows were twitched up incredulously; she could see the tiniest reflection of the setting sun from the window in the lenses of his round glasses.
"None of your business," She said lightly, unable to help the way her lips quirked upwards, before turning around again. Her eyes trailed over her players, watching Blaise gracefully slip the Quaffle through the goal post and cringing as she watched Bletchley let it in. Theo was playing marvelously, and she watched him reach out — out — out — until he raised his fist high and frantically waved it around. She hadn't even realized she had been smiling wistfully until she zoned back into reality.
"I think they'll survive one practice without you," Potter mused, mindlessly copying the writing onto his parchment. Indiana hopped off of the chair and carried it back to where she found it with a scowl.
"Obviously they will; they're not Gryffindors," She muttered, crossing the room again over towards her seat, her skirt fluttering about her thighs. Before she sat down, she placed her hands on her desk and pushed herself taller to look again. Frustrated, she climbed up and stood on the top of the desk. Potter's eyes widened, gaze going from the black leather of her shoes, up the length of her knee high socks, and up to her face before running back down again. "I just ought to be out there shaping them up — for fucks sake, Goyle — no, no! Go over — ugh!"
"Quit it," Potter muttered, his head tilted downwards so intensely towards his paper so he couldn't see partially up her skirt from where she was standing. Indiana glanced downward at him, pursed her lips, and kicked a few of his finished papers onto the floor. "Hey! The hell was that for?"
"I'm bored," She drawled, climbing down and pushing her papers aside so she could sit on the desk, her feet resting on her seat and tapping in tune to the song in her head. Pulling at the edge of her white socks, she glanced about the room. "Sluggy's got to have something else in here..."
"Woah, woah, woah — what're you doing?" Potter shot up out of his seat as he watched her walk behind Slughorn's desk, bending over to fiddle with the drawers. He approached the other side and leaned over to see what she was doing. "You shouldn't be going through his stuff, you know."
"I shouldn't be in detention, either," Indiana said mindlessly, clicking her tongue when she saw that all the drawers she checked were locked. She yanked on it once — twice — before huffing and dropping her hand; meeting his eyes, she said, "And look where I am!"
"And who's fault is that?" Potter pressed, following her as she circled to the inside of the desk. "You're the one who started it by saying I wasn't any good at Potions."
"It's not like I lied," Indiana shrugged. "You're a menace. I'm gonna have to end up doing the whole damn project myself. Can't believe we have to research Amortentia. . .of all things. . ."
"Can't we just switch Potions?" Potter put his palms on the edge of the desk opposite her, his body unconsciously rocking forward and back. His entire figure, she realized, was plainly larger than her own. He practically towered over her.
"We could, but Slughorn seemed pretty pleased when he thought we were doing it," Indiana said, tugging at one of the drawers and hissing when she felt her nail bend backwards. "If I want to get back in his good graces, we ought to. Unless you somehow have a better idea?"
Potter pressed his lips together as a response, his brows twitching upwards. Indiana glanced at him for a moment, spying the way his shirt was partially untucked from his trousers before she straightened her legs to stand upright.
"Thought so," She hummed, walking out from the inside of the desk and moving towards her own seat. Potter blinked, turning and resting his back against the desk for a moment before pushing off and returning to his seat as well. They continued copying papers for another half of an hour, Indiana's foot tapping on the ground and Potter incessantly drumming his wand on his leg.
"D'you know the time?" Potter asked after a long while, cutting the silence.
"Can you not read a clock?" Indiana spoke without lifting her head, blowing onto the fresh ink on her parchment. Potter huffed and stopped writing, turning his head to look at her. She let him stare at her for a moment before meeting his eyes. Even with all of her hatred for him, she could admit that she was a bit jealous of the brightness of his iris'.
"Can you just answer the damn question?" He fired frustratedly.
Amused that she was getting to him, she cocked up an eyebrow, her lips twitching up into a smirk she couldn't help. "It's nine-fifty."
"So ten more minutes, then," Potter sighed, nodding to himself. She almost laughed.
"More like seventy more minutes," She said in an airy tone. His head snapped over again, taken aback. "Yeah. Little more than an hour left."
He slumped his shoulders and threw his head back, exposing the base of his neck. Indiana had the fleeting thought that he looked awfully endearing in this position, but she blinked and quickly began writing again, dispelling the thought.
"D'you think he'll know if we use magic to do these?" Potter implored after another fifteen minutes, not even bothering to continue writing and just twirling his quill with his fingers.
"Maybe, maybe not," Indiana replied mindlessly.
They were both quiet for a heart beat; they locked eyes for a second, each pair glinting with a hint of mischief before they both whipped out their wands and waved them over their work. The pieces of parchment flew into the air, the blank ones magically filling with writing that mimicked their own. Indiana flourished her wand again and all the papers settled into two respective piles, one for each of them.
Indiana got to her feet again, adjusting her skirt as she strutted over towards the door. She grasped and pulled the doorknob, but frowned when she realized it was still locked. She tugged on it again before pulling out her wand and muttering, "Alohomora."
"That's not going to work," Potter said lightly from behind her. She rolled her eyes and tugged on it again, letting out a groan when it stayed locked. "Quidditch Practice is over, anyways, I'm not sure why you're so impatient considering you've got nowhere to go."
"Away from you, that's where," Indiana said swiftly, turning and walked towards Slughorn's desk, where she hopped up and sat on the edge, swinging her legs. "Anyways, there was supposed to be a party tonight, and I'm missing it because of you."
"A party?" Potter repeated. "For what?"
"Just because, I dunno," Indiana shrugged. "Don't you lot have parties on the weekends?"
"Not often," He answered. "Sometimes after Quidditch games, sure, but not randomly."
"Lame," Indiana quipped. Potter rolled his eyes, but found himself not being annoyed by her commentary. "The other houses parties don't compare to Slytherin, in my opinion. Hufflepuff parties are alright, but there's no alcohol and they let the third years and below join. No fun. Ravenclaw gets a little too crazy... "
"You have restrictions on your parties?"
"Of course we do," Indiana looked taken aback. "We're not going to let the first or second years drink. Slytherin parties are fifth years and up. Occasionally fourth years, too."
"The hell are you lot doing?" Potter screwed up his face, looking a mixture of disgusted and intrigued.
"Drugs," She said bluntly. Potter blinked, but at her smirk he only shook his head with a barely audible chuckle, knowing she was only joking. "Just drinking... sometimes... y'know, other stuff. But they're pretty loud. We put silencing charms on the first, second, and third year dorms."
"How courteous," Potter said sarcastically. Indiana scowled.
"Just because some Slytherins are awful doesn't mean we all are," She said firmly.
"You say we as if you're not one of them," Potter scoffed. Before Indiana, who was furrowing her brows, could speak, he went on. "You're just as awful as the rest of them."
Indiana blinked twice, her frown deepening. She gulped when she found herself feeling hurt by his comment, and unconsciously glanced down at her left forearm. She prayed he didn't notice how quick she got lost in her thoughts: She was awful, wasn't she? She bore the mark of a man who killed thousands, wore his colors and friended his allies. She had teased almost all of Potter's friends and excused her behavior by blaming him for everything wrong in her world. She was awful.
When she snapped back into reality, she was embarrassed to find him staring at her, his forehead furrowed and his face clouded with something she couldn't read. Could he tell it had. . .? She blinked thrice and hopped off of Slughorn's desk, crossing the room and standing on top of the chair again to peer out the window. Potter remained staring at her. His gaze did not falter.
SHE SPEAKS!
i like this chapter a lot :)
but anyway. i'm almost finished writing this book entirely!!! i wanna include a little more spicy scenes and then have a nice finish to close it up, but it's really just editing left!!! very excited for u guys to read the rest of it :)
thank you all for reading i'm in love with all of you
- s <3