History of Magic was boring per usual. Professor Binns droned on and on about the giant wars and Amisty was more focused on trying to stay awake rather than writing down her notes.
Hermione wasn't very happy.
"How would it be, if I refused to lend you my notes this year?" She snapped as they left.
That shocked Amisty into reality.
"We'd fail our O.W.L.s. If you want that on your conscience, Hermione..." Ron's voice trailed off.
"Well, you'd deserve it. You don't even try to listen to him, do you?" Hermione replied sharply.
"We do try. We just haven't got your brains or your memory or your concentration -- you're just cleverer than we are -- is it nice to rub it in?" Ron replied.
"Oh, don't give me that rubbish," Hermione grumbled, walking faster.
It wasn't fast enough for Amisty not to spot the pink on the tips of her ears.
They took a seat under a balcony, out of the way of the drizzle and mist that blanketed the grounds in grey. It would've been pretty if their robes didn't act like sponges and soak up all the water.
"Hello, Harry!"
Amisty looked up. Cho Chang was walking toward them, smiling brightly as she waved.
"Hi," Harry replied, his face already reddening at the sight of her.
"You got that stuff off, then?" She asked, clearly referring to the Stink Sap they had been covered with on the train.
"Yeah," Harry nodded, a strained sort of grin on his face.
Amisty resisted the urge to snicker.
"So did you... er... have a good summer?"
Cho paused, her eyes darkening a smidge, but she was still smiling, "Oh, it was all right, you know..."
"Is that a Tornados badge? You don't support them, do you?" Ron asked out of nowhere, pointing at a pin on her tobes. It was bright blue with a double gold T on top.
"Yeah, I do," Cho nodded.
"Have you always supported them, or just since they started winning the league?" Ron demanded.
Amisty visibly cringed.
"I've supported them since I was six," Cho replied, her voice measured and cold. "Anyway... see you, Harry."
Cho walked away, and as soon as she was out of earshot Hermione turned on Ron.
"You are so tactless!" She hissed furiously.
"What? I only asked her if -- " Ron started, looking entirely bewildered by her frustration.
"Couldn't you tell she wanted to talk to Harry on her own?" Hermione cut him off.
"So?" Ron blinked. "She could've done, I wasn't stopping -- "
"What on earth were you attacking her about her Quidditch team for?" Hermione groaned.
"Attacking? I wasn't attacking her, I was only -- "
"Who cares if she supports the Tornados?"
"Oh, come on, half the people you see wearing those badges only bought them last season -- "
"But what does it matter?"
"It means they're not real fans, they're just jumping on the bandwagon -- "
"That's the bell," Harry sighed, sounding very done and very tired of the two of them.
They started up to the castle.
"Ron," Amisty sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, "aren't you, as Harry's best friend, supposed to be his wingman?"
He stared at her, "What?"
Hermione let out a very dramatic, very loud, very frustrated sigh, "Yes, he is, but he's clearly hopeless at it!"
They bickered all the way down to the dungeons, Harry getting more and more annoyed by the second judging by how unimpressed he seemed.
They trudged inside the Potions classroom, taking their seats in the back of the classroom per usual.
"Settle down," Snape drawled, shutting the door. His words were unnecessary, however, as everyone was quiet the second they stepped into the room.
"Before we begin today's lesson, I think it appropriate to remind you that next June you will be sitting an important examination, during which you will prove how much you have learned about the composition and use of magical potions. Moronic though some of this class undoubtedly are, I expect you to scrap an 'Acceptable' in your O.W.L., or suffer my... displeasure.
"After this year, of course, many of you will cease studying with me. I take only the very best students into my N.E.W.T. Potions class, which means that some of us will certainly be saying good-bye.
"But we have another year to go before that happy moment of farewell, so whether you are intending to attempt N.E.W.T. or not, I advise all of you to concentrate your efforts upon maintaining the high-pass level I have come to expect from my O.W.L. students.
"Today we will be mixing a potion that often comes up at Ordinary Wizarding Level: the Draught of Peace, a potion to calm anxiety and soothe agitation. Be warned: if you are too heavy-handed with the ingredients you will put the drinker into a heavy and sometimes irreversible sleep, so you will need to pay close attention to what you are doing. The ingredients and method," He flicked his wand at the board and the words appeared, "are on the blackboard, you will find everything you need," the cupboard opened, "in the store cupboard, you have an hour and a half... Start."
Amisty hated the potion the second she started. It was complicated and difficult and had to be done just so or it would go down in flames.
Possibly literally, depending at which point the wrong ingredient was added.
"Stir it once more, you lost count," Draco whispered as he brushed past her desk, looking entirely calm and collected as he continued with his own -- perfect -- potion.
She nodded her thanks, certain she was going to tear her hair out by the end of the lesson.
Pouring in the porcupine quills, she stirred it clockwise and then counterclockwise in what she hoped was the correct amount of times and lowered the level of the flames under her cauldron.
"A light silver vapor should now be rising from your potion," Snape announced.
Amisty breathed a very obvious sigh of relief.
It wasn't perfect, the silver wasn't quite as shimmery as it should have been, but it was passable.
"Potter, what is this supposed to be?"
The class suddenly went very quiet.
Amisty looked up from her cauldron, just in time, too. If she hadn't, the bead of sweat on her forehead would have ruined all her work.
It was that horrible of a potion to make.
"The Draught of Peace."
"Tell me, Potter, can you read?"
The Slytherins at the front of the room cackled on cue.
"Yes, I can."
"Read the third line of instructions for me, Potter."
"Add powdered moonstone, stir three times counterclockwise, allow to simmer for seven minutes, then add two drops of syrup of hellebore."
"Did you do everything on the third line, Potter?
"No."
"I beg your pardon?"
"No. I forgot the hellebore..."
"I know you did, Potter, which means that this mess is utterly worthless. Evanesco."
There was a swish of a wand and the faint slosh of liquid. Snape had just emptied his cauldron.
"Those of you who have managed to read the instructions, fill one flagon with a sample of your potion, label it clearly with your name, and bring it up to my desk for testing," Snape ordered. "Homework is twelve inches of parchment on the properties of moonstone and its uses in potion-making, to be handed in on Thursday."
Amisty poured her potion into a bottle, rubbing her eyes and scribbling her name with unsteady fingers.
She was exhausted.
"How do you do this without losing your mind?" She muttered to Draco as they wait in line, carefully set apart just enough to not raise too much attention.
"Practice," He shrugged, brushing back a stray strand of platinum hair that stuck to his forehead. "I've been brewing since I was seven."
"Figures," She rolled her eyes, placing the bottle on Snape's desk. "See you later."
"Et toi, love."
Harry was already waiting in the Great Hall by the time the bell rang, a sour expression on his face as he shifted his food around his plate.
"That was really unfair. Your potion wasn't nearly as bad as Goyle's, when he put it in his flagon the whole thing shattered and set his robes on fire," Hermione frowned, squeezing his shoulder gently.
"Yeah, well, since when has Snape ever been fair to me?" Harry replied darkly, glaring daggers at his plate.
Amisty stared at her hands, fidgeting uncomfortably.
Hermione sighed, clearly disappointed. "I thought he might be a bit better this year. I mean... you know... Now he's in the Order and everything."
"Poisonous toadstools don't change their spots," Ron scoffed. "Anyway, I've always thought Dumbledore was cracked trusting Snape, where's the evidence he ever really stopped working for You-Know-Who?"
"I think Dumbledore's probably got plenty of evidence, even if he doesn't share it with you, Ron," Hermione countered waspishly.
Just as Ron opened his mouth to argue, blue eyes flashing, Harry cut them off.
"Oh, shut up, the pair of you," He glared at them and both looked shocked and mildly offended. "Can't you give it a rest? You're always having a go at each other, it's driving me mad."
Amisty stared at him, frowning as her eyes narrowed, "I don't know what has gotten into you recently, Harry, but you really need to -- "
"I don't need to hear it, Amisty," He hissed, swinging his bag over his shoulder as he turned his glare onto her. "Go run off to your little boyfriend instead of lecturing me about friendship."
And he left.
She closed her mouth with difficulty, her eyes burning as she looked numbly at her plate.
There was a twinge of anger deep in her stomach but mainly she was just hurt by his barbed words.
Ron and Hermione were silent beside her, all of them reeling with shock and hurt and anger at Harry's outburst.
Hermione was first to break the silence, huffing, "You know, it would be nice if he'd stop snapping at us all the time."
Amisty nodded, finding herself unable to speak. Was she really... no, it couldn't be. She wasn't being a bad friend, being with Draco, right? She shoved her hands under her legs. They had started to shake. Her eyes burned more fiercely.
"Am," Ron nudged her gently, the concern evident in his tone, "are you okay?"
"Fine," She replied, her voice strained and an octave too high. She coughed, giving her head a little shake. "I'm fine, sorry."
Hermione watched her, refilling her glass and nudging a plate of potatoes closer, "He didn't mean that."
"How can you be so sure?" Amisty murmured under her breath, swiping at her eyes and welcoming the distraction of more food.
"Because," Hermione had clearly heard her, turning on the motherly tone that she only used when Amisty was being unreasonably stubborn, "this is the same Harry who's been your friend for five years now, and the same one who respected your decision even if it was Draco Malfoy you chose out of everyone."
"Thanks."
It had cheered her up a bit, even if his words still stung.
"Speaking of Malfoy, I think he's waiting for you," Ron pointed over at the entrance of the Great Hall, where the blond was leaning against the wall lazily, twirling his wand around in his fingers.
Amisty glanced up, and he waved when they made eye contact.
"Do you mind?" She asked hesitantly.
Ron shook his head, "You heard Harry. Have to make amends with Hermione, and all that."
"Go," Hermione nodded, pushing her gently up from her seat. "Lunch is almost over, anyway."
Amisty shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, but after another shove from Hermione walked over to where Draco was standing.
I'm very distracted and a tired and stressing out over all my homework... so... short author's note is short. Sorry. Thanks for reading, hope you liked it!