"How did you mess up a swelling potion? It's literally three ingredients!" Wren cackled as we made our way to our first Potions class of the year. Her laughter echoed through the stone corridor.
I let out a tired sigh. "I told you, I'm hopeless when it comes to Potions. Our old professor was a cruel fossil, and he didn't help much."
"Well, you're not in luck here either," she muttered, and her smirk faded. "Snape is a different kind of nightmare."
"Oh, joy," I deadpanned.
We slid into an empty row near the middle of the classroom. Four days had passed since Ron's remark at dinner, and I'd been doing my best to keep a wide berth from him—and, by extension, Harry and Hermione. The distance stung more than I let on. I wasn't sure if Harry even realized I'd been keeping away, or if he noticed and chose not to say anything. Either way, I wasn't going to be the one to bridge the gap this time.
In the meantime, I spent my time around Slytherins. I got to know my dormmates a bit better—excluding Pansy Parkinson, of course. Wren told me she glared at any girl who so much as looked at Malfoy, which I took as both a warning and an odd compliment.
Sure enough, when the classroom filled and the door slammed shut behind a gust of cold air, Professor Snape strode in like a storm cloud. His dark robes billowed with every step, and his piercing gaze scanned the room until it landed on me.
"Ah. The forgotten Potter," he sneered. I stiffened.
"I've reviewed your transcript. Abysmal at Potions, I see. Runs in the family, clearly."
I caught Harry's apologetic glance from across the room, but I ignored it. My lips pressed into a line.
"See me after class," Snape continued. "You'll need a tutor immediately. Anyone incapable of brewing a basic swelling solution is a hazard to the class."
Snickers erupted from the back of the room. I sunk slightly into my chair.
Wren leaned over and whispered, "I thought maybe being in Slytherin would earn you some leniency. Guess not."
To Snape's credit, once he actually began the lecture, the lesson itself wasn't half bad. His teaching was methodical and sharp, even if his tone remained cutting. The hour passed faster than I expected, though the weight of humiliation lingered heavily.
"I'll wait outside," Wren whispered after we were dismissed, her face sympathetic. I nodded.
I half-expected Hermione to stay behind too. After all, she was top of nearly every subject, and it seemed obvious Snape would assign her to help me.
"Wait—where are you going?" I called after her as she passed.
She looked confused. "What do you mean?"
"You're going to be my tutor, right?"
Hermione frowned. "No one said anything. That's strange... I just assumed..."
She trailed off, clearly deep in thought. "Well, whoever it is, let me know. I'm curious who Snape thinks is better than me."
I gave a weak chuckle and nodded.
And then Snape called, "Mr. Malfoy, stay behind, please."
Dread filled my stomach.
No. No, no, no.
I remained frozen at Snape's desk as Malfoy sauntered over with that trademark smirk plastered across his face.
"Now, Miss Potter," Snape began, "you may be a hopeless case, but Mr. Malfoy is one of my best students. I trust he can at least teach you to keep a cauldron from melting."
Draco looked all too pleased. "Of course, sir. I'll do my best."
"Wonderful. You'll meet once a week, after class. You're dismissed."
I didn't argue. Snape's glare was enough to silence a banshee. Unlike Harry, I knew when to hold my tongue.
Outside the classroom, I didn't even make it five steps before I exploded.
"You are out of your mind."
Draco barely flinched. "You're welcome."
"Why in Merlin's name would you volunteer for this?"
"Because it'll ruin your day, and I'll enjoy every second of it," he said without missing a beat. "Besides, if you're anything like your brother, you'll tank our chances at the House Cup without some help."
I rolled my eyes. "No amount of house points is worth spending an extra hour a week with you."
He bumped my shoulder lightly as he passed. "Win-win, Potter."
I groaned, already dreading our next meeting.