Friday arrived, marking the last day of the school week, and with it came the much-anticipated Potions class—shared with the Gryffindors.
At the Slytherin table, Draco, Theodore, Pansy, and Daphne were enjoying their breakfast when a flutter of wings filled the Great Hall. Hundreds of owls swooped in, delivering letters and parcels to students.
A familiar snowy owl gracefully descended, dropping a small package in front of Harry.
Ever since his first day at Hogwarts, Hedwig had been absent from sight, yet she never failed to deliver his daily newspaper.
As Harry casually unfolded the paper, Daphne leaned closer, her voice sweet yet curious.
"Harry, will you teach me Potions today?"
He glanced at her with an amused smirk. "Oh? And may I ask why?"
Daphne pouted slightly. "I'm not very good at Potions. I always mess it up."
Harry chuckled. "As if I—a Muggle-raised boy—know more than you?"
"Surely not! You're Harry Potter, after all," she said with a playful glint in her eyes.
Nearby, Pansy Parkinson turned to Draco Malfoy, her fiancé.
"Draco, you know I'm not great at Potions either. You'll help me, won't you?"
Draco, indifferent, simply nodded. "Okay."
Pansy's expression soured. He was her fiancé, for Merlin's sake! Where was the enthusiasm?
Daphne, still beside Draco, suddenly leaned in and—kissed Harry on the cheek!
Before he could react, she dashed off, calling out, "Debt repaid!" with a mischievous grin.
Harry blinked. "What the hell…?"
Pansy, meanwhile, huffed in frustration, grabbed her books, and stormed away without another word.
Harry shook his head and turned to Draco. "Now you've done it. Pansy's in love with you, you know?"
Draco smirked lazily, unconcerned.
Harry leaned back smugly. "See me? I've got Hermione on one arm, and Daphne will soon be on the other."
Draco's smirk deepened, but before Harry could bask in his own arrogance—
"Who's in your arms, Harry?"
The voice behind him sent a chill down his spine.
Turning slowly, he found Hermione standing right there.
And she had not been present until now.
Shit.
She narrowed her eyes. "Well?"
Harry chuckled awkwardly. "Just a joke! A joke!"
Hermione crossed her arms but quickly shifted gears. "Anyway, thanks for yesterday's help in Transfiguration. I thought about what you said, and I learned a lot."
Harry waved it off. "Oh, no need to thank me."
"So, what do you want, then?"
Harry leaned forward slightly, a teasing glint in his eyes. "A kiss—"
Before he could finish, Hermione's hand flew toward his neck. He immediately changed his words mid-sentence.
"—A complete set of notes for the year!"
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "What? No way! Do your own work."
Harry grinned. "That's all I need."
She rolled her eyes. "If you want, we can study together."
Harry's smirk widened. "Oh? Like a date?"
Hermione turned, walking away. "Library. After school. Take it or leave it."
As she left, she subtly hinted at something with a glance toward his lips.
Harry simply chuckled.
Potions was held in the dungeons, a cold and dimly lit space that smelled faintly of herbs, burnt ingredients, and something distinctly… acidic. The stone walls were lined with shelves filled with jars of eerie-looking substances, floating in mysterious liquids.
Professor Severus Snape entered with his usual silent, imposing presence.
Without greeting the class, he began the roll call.
Upon reaching Harry's name, Snape paused for a second longer than necessary before continuing.
Then came his introduction.
"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making. As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses. I can tell you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death… if you aren't a bunch of dunderheads, that is."
Silence filled the room. Hermione sat rigidly straight, her hands neatly folded on the desk, hanging on to Snape's every word as if it were the most precious knowledge in the world.
Harry found it unbearably cute.
Glancing sideways, he caught Daphne muttering something under her breath, though her expression was unreadable.
"Weasley!" Snape's sharp voice rang out.
Ron flinched.
"What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
Ron's face twisted in panic. He had no clue.
Hermione's hand shot into the air.
Snape ignored her.
Ron stammered. "Uh—um…"
Snape sneered. "Clearly, fame isn't everything. Five points from Gryffindor."
Still ignoring Hermione's raised hand, Snape turned to Harry.
He didn't even hesitate. "Draught of Living Death."
A flicker of something—was it irritation?—crossed Snape's face.
"Correct. Though I expected nothing less from someone raised outside the wizarding world," he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "15 points to Slytherin."
Hermione finally got called upon, and her rapid, thorough answer actually earned another 15 points for Slytherin.
Snape continued, his usual disdain directed toward Ron, whose struggles only worsened as the lesson went on.
Harry almost felt bad for him. Almost.
As agreed, Daphne and Harry worked together, their potion coming out flawless.
"Excellent work," Snape said, awarding them 10 points to Slytherin.
Daphne beamed at Harry. "See? You're a great teacher."
Harry smirked. "Of course I am."
Everything was going smoothly—until it wasn't.
A loud hissing noise filled the air.
All eyes turned toward Neville's cauldron.
Somehow, he had managed to melt the entire thing. The blackened remains of his potion seeped across the floor, releasing a pungent, foul odor.
How does one even manage that?
Harry stared at him, genuinely impressed by his level of failure.
Snape was furious. "Longbottom, you absolute imbecile!"
Poor Neville looked ready to pass out.
To make things worse, Ron had been sitting beside him, and because he hadn't warned Neville, Snape docked even more points from Gryffindor.
Harry simply sighed.
"Maybe Neville really does have the IQ of a monkey…"
To be continued.