Potions Class

She had barely been back a month and it was already back to the grindstone. Then again, she Lily Potter preferred it that way. It was much better than having to deal with people. Lily honestly just wanted to keep her head down and gaze averted until she could graduate from this stupid school. She was sick of having to deal with people who wanted to ask about what it was like to be a Potter, or how it felt to go to another school, or what it was like living in America. In short, she was sick of people wanting to know everything about her… except for who she was. So, classes were a nice distraction from the hell that was having a social life.

Overall, Lily would always rather be working in class than working with people. Yes, she did have a small troublemaking streak, but she considered any trouble made to be made out of necessity. No, all in all, she considered herself a hard worker, a studious pupil, and an experience potioneer. It ran in her blood, apparently. Her namesake had been a great potionmaker, and her mother had not been dreadful either. While James took after their dad, Albus and Lily were much more akin to the female Potters in their potion abilities.

So, naturally, when the professor announced they would be pairing off, Lily felt her heart sink and she immediately felt more irritable. She let out a sigh and drooped her head, letting it loll backwards as she stared at the ceiling. “Of course,” she muttered. She lifted her head as the professor told them that they would be paired with the other person sitting at their table and she turned her head to see a boy she did not know, adorned in Slytherin robes.

Of. Course.

Lily did not have the same views on Slytherins that most of her family and most of the other Slytherins had, especially considering that her brother was a Slytherin. So Lily mustered up her nicest grimace and turned the book to the page on the Draught of Living Death. The professor released them to work and the girl sighed. “Well, we’re partners, I guess. I’m Lily.” Lily looked between the book and the boy. “I’ve done these before, so you can just sit back and relax or whatever.”

If Daemon was good at anything, he would say it was Potions. Maybe Quidditch, as well. But former even more than the latter. His free time was spent in the Dungeon's Potions lab or on the pitch if someone was already in the lab. His problem, Dex mused, was that most people gave him an odd look or a lifted brow if he informed them that he was particularly skilled at potions because of his love of healing spells and the herbs related to potions meant to help people.

Apparently, this was too strange for people to understand, considering he was a Slytherin. But his house seemed to come down to his blood line as much as his determination and cool demeanor around those he didn't know. Sometimes it was the same even when he did know someone. The only time he really tended to open up was when he was comfortable in the subject matter they were discussing. This class, for example, was somewhere that Dex would allow himself to just get to work and ignore the people around him.

The worst days, though, were when the professor paired the students up. Daemon almost always got stuck with someone who either didn't care, didn't want to care, or just was not really up to par with their potions knowledge. Today, he had been running a little late - something that rarely happened for him - due to his dorm-mates stashing his book as a prank. If there was one thing he hated, it was people pranking or attacking someone else. Another odd trait for a Slytherin, he was told. In the end, it came down to the same thing that created his dislike for the Pureblood ideals: money, family, or bullying couldn't make you better than someone else. Knowledge or Morality, on the other hand, he believed could.

Something in the girl's - Lily's - tone suggested that she was trying to be polite about her distaste for being partnered. At the same time, though, she seemed to expect that he would be lazy or useless, as he often suspected his classmates would be. Rather than creating a sense of camaraderie, Dex sat up straighter in an effort to assert himself.

"I'm Daemon," he offered in return. "Believe it or not, I'm actually quite experienced with potion-making." He flipped his book open to the correct page, his finger skimming through the ingredients he was sure he had mixed together before. Yes, it looked familiar. "So either, you know, we can split up the tasks, or you can go at it and I can fix it."

Ah, there it was. His competitive side. It was stronger than he cared to admit at times, and often got the better of him. She hadn't even really tried to start anything. And yet, if it had been any other topic, Dex wouldn't have been so easily rattled. But in the area he spent most of his time pondering or experimenting with, the one he wanted to spend his live involved in, it didn't take much to make him defensive. The poor girl hadn't been warned, the back of his mind joked. Dex had to actively stop himself from smiling at the thought. It, unfortunately, was pretty accurate.

Lily had always strove to be the smart Potter. She had been in direct conflict with Albus, however, who was smart too, but as he was less sociable, automatically was given the title. Lily spent too much time in detention to be considered too smart. Still, she was a lot more clever than she was given credit for. She was not the slave to her studies like her brother, but it came easy to her, and she did study and focus on her work. But, Albus wasn’t at Hogwarts anymore. In fact, she was the oldest of the Weasley-Potter clan at Hogwarts. She could be the smart one.

She was the smart one.

This wasn’t some petty family thing, either. Sure, her family issues did have something to do with her desire to be different, her desire to be above them. But she just wanted to be able to get out of school and into the real world; into the real world, where she hoped she would be judged for her records, her performance, and not her name. If she continued to live only the life her family name would guarantee her, she would go absolutely bonkers. She would not stand for it. She had to make sure her mind was keen enough to stand on its own.

“Daemon,” she repeated mechanically, gathering the objects from her own potions-making kit that they would need, not even bothering to check the book. She knew how to make the potion, and her kit was so extensive that she doubted they would even need to check the ingredients cupboard. That, however, stopped mattering as the Slytherin boy instantly made her regret her attempt (no matter how weak it was) to be polite to him.

Big mistake, buddy boy?

“Excuse me?” she said, her eyes locking hard on him. “No, I’m sorry, excuse you. I know my potionmaking. I can make this is in my sleep – and besides, you’re like twelve, so I don’t want to hear you acting all high and mighty. Start the prep work, will you?”

Daemon often compared himself to the Head of Slytherin, Professor Hayes, in that he didn't always act like a Slytherin, but when he did, it made people nervous. He and the professor weren't very close, but if Dex got himself into trouble and was sent to speak with his Head of House, the professor would often tell him that his Slytherin was showing. Now, it seemed, was one of those moments. The girl had done nothing wrong, except accidentally access his competitive side. He had angered more than a few members of other houses with his antics. Especially on the pitch or in the classroom.

Dex could practically feel Trisha glaring at him, even though she was across the room and clearly couldn't hear them. He glanced up – she wasn't even looking. He was just so used to her angry looks from across the room that he expected them.

“Listen, kiddo,” he replied with a raised eyebrow, using the phrase his elder brother leaned towards when insulting someone – especially Dex, himself. “I'm sixteen, taller than you, and probably more stubborn that you expect.”

Although he did start, as she suggested (or commanded?), he decided that he wasn't going to just sit back and act like she could be the boss in all of this. He eyed her warily as he filled the cauldron with water and set the fire on. Something in him suggested that he could wing it and see if she panicked when he picked up the wrong ingredient. For a moment, he considered it, but at the same time, he wasn't about to let her assume he had done the wrong thing and was trying to cover it up.

Instead, he watched to see if she would pull out the ingredients before arranging them into the order in which they would need each item. It couldn't be said that he wasn't organized, Dex mused. His eyes fell to the cauldron again, testing the saying that a watched pot never boils.

Till the 10th of December, 2026, morning 10:30 a.m. - Alisha was having a Good Day.

Came back to a dirty old castle not two weeks prior, filled to the bursting with wizards and witches and ghosts and professors and magic. Got up at 3 a.m. to climb the turrets of the Clock Tower. (Stairs were so predictable). Almost had a precarious fall but finally managed it to the top. There was something quite scintillating about clambering over stone and brick at an ungodly hour of the morning. Watched the glorious colours of the sunrise at 4 a.m. Actually had a fall halfway down, and twisted an ankle. Got an earful from the Matron ( She adored her. Alisha knew it, regardless of the pursed lips and the pulsing vein at the top of the temple of the forehead. It was just the Matron who didn't know it herself). Pecked her on the cheek quickly before she left, before taking a glorious dive down the hallway to avoid the slipper being flung at the back of her head.

Had pancakes and blueberry jam for breakfast. (Again, she would have insisted on raspberry, but she did so hate being fussy). Copied the Potions homework off a random 'Puffer who was always happy to help, especially if she flirted back with him a couple of times, regardless of the warts. Winked at two Professors, giving them simultaneous aneurysms. Vowed to do it once at Professor Hayes, in spite of knowing that she'd fail miserably. There was just something about those eyes.......

Aaanyway, forgetting distractions for a minute....back to the account. Flung her favourite satchel around her neck and to the side, shrugged on a cloak, and tramped off to Potions class, chatting merrily with a girl she'd never spoken to before. Or rather, had; five times already, according to the girl, when Alisha voiced her thoughts. Oops. The girl walked off rather petulantly, and Alisha slumped  into the seat right at the back of class, behind a pair of red-and-green brunettes.

This was the point. The turning second. The time when the Good Day morphed into something decidedly not. The moment when-

You get the point.

The Professor, rather grumpily at that, announced that they needed to pair off and work with partners. The class had odd numbers. Alisha was sitting right behind.....and completely alone. And she sucked royally at Potions. What a coaccident.

The old hag.

Muttering rather vehemently against aforementioned Professor-slash-woman-come-to-Earth-to-ruin-her-life, Alisha levitated a quill and poked the guy in front of her at the back of his head. No reaction. The quill, rather intelligently at that, changed direction and poked the girl instead. Still no reaction. That tended to happen when the people in front of you were too busy engrossed in a round of one-upping the other. Academicians, honestly.

Desperate times call for weirder measures. Alisha propped herself on her boot-capped toes and leaned over, sticking her head in between the quarrelling pair. She nodded at the one on her left. "Cute Guy." Then the one on her right. "Potterella." Then smiled amiably at both of them. "Instead of squabbling over who makes a better potion, why not one of you come over and lend a hand to a person in need? I will forever acknowledge your supreme awesomeness in Potions and all other cooking-related abilities, I swear."

Then, an extra bright, blinding grin- just for surety.

She didn't unleash the dimple yet. It was a weapon of Great Power and Potency. Not to be taken lightly, or used frivolously.

"Kiddo?" Lily repeated. Oh boy, the last time someone had spoken so condescendingly to her had been... yes, Moira Jacobs, back in Salem. Moira had been Big Girl on campus and had needed to 'put Lily in her place' before everyone in the cafeteria. If Lily recalled correctly, Moira's nose had been temporarily rearranged, and then no one had messed with Lily again. (Casey had also left some newts in Moira's bed to drive home the point even further.) This boy surely did not know that she was not to be spoken to in such a way. Not because she was a Potter, but because she knew how to deal with punks.

"F*ck this, you do your own potion and I'll do mine. I'm not dealing with some sniveling brat who thinks he knows better because he's teacher's pet." Her words were crisp and sharp and her eyes were dull - a terrifying combination really. She appeared as a girl with little holding her back.

It was at that point that she heard something behind her. Potterella. Of all the things... She whipped around, turning to face what seemed to be the sun with a smile on it, so pleasant looking was the girl addressing them. She gave the boy a furtive look and then stood. With a wave of her wand, her things disappeared and reappeared on the desk the other girl had settled on. Lily's eyes rested on the boy. "Good luck," she said, her voice sugary. She moved to the desk with the girl and quietly began about prepping her cauldron.

((Kiera – Now I desperately want Alisha to interact with Keiran. XD Especially if Millie is bopping about at the same time))

Daemon gave a careless shrug as Lily repeated the name he'd given her. Hardly one to use nicknames or the like, Dex was a little surprised by the word himself, but he refused to show any sign of being uncomfortable or unsure of himself. No, indeed, if he was confident in any area it was potions. When it came to interactions with some people, though, Dex was sometimes cautious. Then, in cases like this, he was riled up and any attempt at being nice was sufficiently killed before it escaped.

She had quite a mouth on her, Dex noticed, picking up his cauldron and moving to the farthest bit of the counter her could manage. He wasn't quite a teacher's pet, but he didn't see any reason to correct her. If he was, in fact, there would be little chance of him getting into trouble for working on his own. Besides, the person who had to get the last word was often the least confident in themselves, needing that extra little moment to prove themselves. He was fine with letter her have that moment for herself.

He wasn't sure, for a moment, if the voice from behind them was directed at him, but as he glanced up in surprise, his brow furrowed. This girl – a Hufflepuff, apparently – did mean to get his attention. How strange. Sure, Dex knew he wasn't bad looking, but it was almost unnerving to be addressed as such. Potterella? Oh. So she was the Potter girl. He should have realized. It didn't exactly change his opinion of her, per se, as he knew that each person had to make their own road rather than following their parents. For an instant, though, Daemon found himself wondering how she got on at school with her father's name tacked onto hers.

Lily moved her things to the other table and Dex grinned widely. Now there was no chance of him being reprimanded for working alone. It couldn't have been better. Suddenly, he was unable to help himself and, in a manner very unlike him, turned to look at the girls. He rested his elbows on the table and leaned forward, looking at Lily directly. “I daresay you don't need the ego boost she's promised you, but I hope it satisfies.”

Dex's grin grew almost smug before he chuckled and passed the Hufflepuff girl a grateful nod. In a flash, he was heading to gather up ingredients before returning to check that the water in his cauldron was getting to boiling.

(( Lindsay: That part about Keiran just happened, I hadn't even planned it out xP But yes, an interaction would be ridiculously funny ))

Ohhhhkaaaaay. So maybe the whole giving-the-people-whose-help-is-a-life-or-death-matter-for-you-nicknames hadn't been that sensible of an idea. But it wasn't like Alisha could help it, it was practically second nature for her. Normal names were just so.....so.......normal.

The Potter girl whirled around, going up in flames Katniss Everdeen style, looking quite willing to skin alive whichever unfortunate person had been sitting behind her. Which was Alisha. Oops again. Not before she practically ran the other guy down with words, exiting her mouth like flecks of sparks.

God, help me.

But then, the girl simply stood up, waved a hand, and moved to another desk. To be more specific, the desk behind her. She was actually going to help. Alisha blinked, a little struck down with wonder for the second; then resisted the urge to preen. Of course the girl agreed to help. She really shouldn't have doubted herself, or more importantly, the power of the smile, a thousand watts at least. She didn't even have to use The Dimple.

Still, that didn't stop Alisha from very, very subtly (in her own opinion, of course) and gingerly edging away to the corner of the desk, putting a good couple of inches in between. Better safe than sorry.

Cute Guy's reaction was a little delayed. She couldn't be entirely sure, he was still a Slytherin after all with their famous poker-faces, the long-deceased Severus Snape pioneering the same- but he almost looked a little befuddled (so adorable) as to whether he had been the one addressed half a minute prior. The reaction, when it came though, was highly satisfactory. He turned completely around, propped his elbows up on their desk, drawled something out at Potterella and more importantly, nodded thankfully in her direction. Alisha replied with an empathetic smile and a look which could be easily deciphered as a regrettable I know.

A quick Aguamenti later (she wasn't supposed to know that spell until sixth year. Ha.), the cauldron was washed and sparkling (not literally), and set to boil. Alisha glanced quickly at the girl next to her, and words came tumbling out rather apologetically, "I....uh, I sorta suck horribly at this subject. Which is why I asked for your help.....but then you already knew that. Really crap at the whole slicing and dicing and micing.....um, whatever, stuff. But I'll try to pull my weight the best I can, so just leave all the grunt-work to me. I'll take a round of the supply cupboard, get the ingredients, so you don't have to necessarily use your personal ones." Right. That ought to do it. Let it never be said that she wasn't honest to her faults. When necessary, of course.

Alisha slid out from behind her seat, took three steps to the supply cupboard, and halted. Oh, how it stung to be the Happy-to-Help Hufflepuff. She had pictured so much better, cooler for herself. The socially adept, Quidditch playing, daredevil of a girl. Which she was, ninety five percent of the time outside classes, so surely it couldn't hurt? You're not being overly, cheesily 'Puffy. You're just being considerate. There's a difference. Besides, she hadn't broken her record of falling asleep fifteen minutes into a Potions class yet, so company would be highly imperative to exorcise the languid spirit of boredom that haunted her every musty, sufficiently academic place she went. And Alisha had never taken more than thirteen point five seconds max in order to address anyone. So she cocked her head to the side, where the boy in green was intermittently going up and down to gather ingredients and check on his cauldron at the same time, and dropped, "I'm going to get bored out of my skull anyway, so keep an eye on your cauldron while I'll bring up any of the leftover ingredients you need, alright?"

Then normally, as if these were the kind of things people said everyday, "And drop me your name, if you'd be much obliged. It sounds weird to call you Cute Guy inside my head all the time." Because to be completely fair, he wasn't thaaat cute. And Alisha couldn't say anything but the absolute truth. Quite literally.

Collecting ingredients quickly became tedious as Daemon headed off on his own, having realized he would need several trips whereas with a partner it could have taken far less time. Regardless, he was wont to show sign of needing help. Almost unsurprisingly, the Hufflepuff showed up at his shoulder and addressed him again. Dex wasn't sure if he should feel nervous or somehow flattered that she referred to him as such. Pureblooded Slytherin that he was, Dex sometimes wondered if he should have grown used to parading about and going on about how good-looking he was. Others in his year certainly did. But in a house such as his, as well as a family such as his own, it was nearly impossible for him to go about bragging. He was vastly different from the lot of them and couldn't quite find a way to say it.

“Weird?” He asked, looking over. With a chuckle he added, “A little. I'm Daemon. But most people just call me Dex.” He shrugged, not feeling the need to explain that it came from his middle name rather than his first. Something inside of him suggested that she might ask, but he was in the midst of setting his ingredients in order like he'd done earlier. If she was curious he would answer.

“I don't think I caught your name, either,” Dex added belatedly, glancing up again. How long could they actually talk before the grumpy Gryffindor behind them started nagging at her new partner? Daemon was tempted to test that suddenly, if only to continue to spite her without doing it directly. “You look sorta familiar, though. You play for the house team?”

Of course, even in class Dex's mind would be directed back to Quidditch. It seemed an impossibly obvious topic, but for one so set in it with his new position as Seeker, he couldn't quite complain. Sure, he thought about it a little too much. But at least he had something he could be proud of (since his family and his house didn't quite count anymore)

It was almost strange, he mused as he checked the cauldron again, that he would actually be curious in someone from a different house. Most Slytherins he knew wouldn't have been, unless it meant their chance to grate on another students' nerves for a while before growing bored and moving on. After a particularly interesting experience with a Muggleborn a few years ago, however, Dex had found that he rarely, if ever, made friends in his own house. What would be so bad about getting on with this Hufflepuff, then? He couldn't find reason not to. If, of course, that was actually her goal in discovering his name. He would have expected worse from others – like wanting his name so they could prattle on about his failing to beat Lily Potter – but he doubted something would come from her. She seemed far too straightforward and, though a bit sneaky regarding her capturing a partner for the assignment, quite honest. He momentarily wondered how she'd been planted into the Hufflepuff house, but brushed it off.