Faith was never drinking again. The roaring fire two rows behind her and the non-stop babbling from fucking Rosenberg joined the boggarts bounding around in her head. It was a complete toss-up if Faith was going to puke or cast a curse on everyone in the classroom.
Including Professor Snape. Faith usually enjoyed his sarcasm and mean-spirited badgering. Not today. Faith wanted to crawl back to the Slytherin Common Room and make the First Years wait on her hand and foot until the hangover disappeared.
Her fantasy shattered as Rosenberg's voice rose to a mind-melting level. "I couldn't believe it, Buffy! Professor Flitwick said he's sure I'll score an Outstanding N.E.W.T for Transfiguration and Charms this year. He's already contacted Minister Scrimgeour about a position as an Auror."
"Ten points from Ravenclaw!" Professor Snape's voice dripped with disdain as he stalked toward the Loser Brigade, as Faith had named them. "Your arrogance is exhausting, Miss Rosenberg. And completely out of place given your incompetence at brewing even the simplest of potions."
Faith forgot all about the boggarts in her brain as she leaned back in her chair and enjoyed the show. Rosenberg's mouth finally stopped flapping as she glared at Professor Snape. Mentally taking bets on whether Rosenberg would let her temper convince her to argue with the professor, Faith decided she might not give up all alcohol. Only weird, smelly shit that smoked in the goblet.
It was good Faith hadn't dropped any Galleons at the betting window. Rosenberg managed to stay quiet. But the resident Golden Girl had to be a hero, as always. Shiny hair perfectly in place and scarlet and gold-striped tie perfectly knotted, Summers rushed to the rescue. "That's not fair, Professor!"
"Did I ask for your opinion, Summers?" Potions was absolutely Faith's favorite class. Not for the thrill of chucking dragonfly wings into a cauldron. No. Watching Professor Snape cut the legs off Buffy Summers and her fellow losers was the best show around. "Stop. Wasting. My. Time!"
Robes flaring as he turned to face the rest of the class, Professor Snape raked the Seventh Years with an evil eye. Faith braced for the worst. Nothing good happened when the professor got this pissed. "You may all thank Miss Summers for today's assignment: Three scrolls on the history of Felix Felicis and the veracity of claims that it changed the course of the Centaur Wars."
Damn it! Faith scowled. She'd had plans for the weekend. Her fingers tingled where they rested against her scroll of class notes. Glancing down, she watched letters appear on the empty parchment.
Don't look so sad. We can still spend time together.
It took effort to hold the scowl in place. Faith's lips wanted to turn up into a grin. She grabbed the spelled quill hidden in her robes and sent a return message. I can rent a room. No need to say where. There was only one place outside Hogwarts available. You, me, a roaring fire… Faith glanced across the room to see if her words had the desired result.
Oh, yeah. Her scowl morphed into a full-dimpled grin at the tide of pink coloring Tara's cheeks. Bright blue eyes glared at her for a heartbeat before disappearing behind a wave of blonde hair.
You are a terrible person.
Faith would have worried if there wasn't a tiny heart behind the comment. Aww. Don't be like that, T. You might make me cry, being all mean and shit.
Before Tara could send another message, chairs scraped on the floor and books closed sharply. Faith realized everyone was running for the door. Oh, well. She'd wait for the mass exodus. Her crappy luck continued, though. When she finally climbed to her feet, Summers and her entourage blocked the doorway.
"Move!" Faith didn't waste words.
Summers' lead enforcer jumped between Faith and Buffy. "Or what?" Harris asked, with all the originality of a First Year's love potion. Faith might have been impressed if his robes weren't threadbare and the Gryffindor crest faded to near-illegibility.
She regarded him with thwarted loathing. Professor Snape hadn't left the room. Faith couldn't risk detention by flattening the rumpled house-elf pretending to be a Dementor in front of her. "I asked nice and all. Need to start on the fucking assignment your Princess caused."
There was a collective intake of breath at her verbal jab, and Summers' hand gripped Harris' arm in case he decided to get his ass kicked by picking a fight with Faith. "Let it go, Xan."
"Listen to your Princess, Harris," Faith taunted. She loved the impotent fury in his eyes. He didn't have the balls to go against Summers – or the magical skill to win a duel against Faith.
The hand on his arm tightened, and now Faith had two sets of beady eyes glaring at her. Feeling better than she had all day, Faith shouldered past Harris. He stumbled back into Summers, leaving the path mostly clear. She avoided making eye contact with Rosenberg. That member of the Loser Brigade had more than enough skill the flay the skin from Faith's bones.
Instead, she made sure to walk close to Tara. Faith paused next to her and sniffed loudly. "Forget to bathe today, Maclay? All you Hufflepuffs reek of stinksap from hangin' out in the greenhouse."
As Faith shoved (carefully) by Tara, a soft, warm hand gripped her fingers for an instant, the action hidden by their robes.
Faith glanced up from her tankard of butterbeer and her first scroll on the Felix Felicis spell. Tara slipped into the room, face and hair hidden by the hood of her sweatshirt. "S…sorry, I'm late." The hood came down, revealing Tara's rolling eyes. "Willow didn't understand why I wasn't joining the gang in the Library to work on the Potion's assignment."
"You might be missing out. I mean, Rosenberg does have the Minister on speed-spell." Faith held out her hand.
"I had a much better offer," Tara whispered, ducking under Faith's hand and nestling against Faith's side.