The next day I had the unfortunate task of teaching potions to the Slytherins and Gryffindors. The Slytherins were mostly okay, save a few, who acted like brainless morons. But I always had difficulty facing the Gryffindors. After all, there was Potter, and I did not appreciate being in the same room with the person who was the spitting image of my ex-tormentor, save the green eyes which always reminded me of Lily.
I set the class the task of brewing the draught of living death, a potion which had always seemed so simple to me, but which the class before me treated as if it were as difficult as disapparating without a wand. Neville was as usual sweating feverishly into his cauldron and even the know-it-all Hermione appeared to have some difficulties. I stifled a sigh and rolled my eyes instead. "Potter! Tell me, do you even know how to read? It clearly states in your potions textbook to stir four times in clockwise direction, but you have stirred only three times! Clearly, you have inherited non of your mother's brilliance in potions, only your father's lack of competence in this subject." It was hard to tell who was more stunned. Potter even forgot to defend his father, as he usually did, which more often than not resulted in points taken from Gryffindor. I had never mentioned Lily to anyone, and now I cursed myself mentally over mentioning her, even complimenting her, in her son's presence. No one was supposed to know, not even the slightest hint, of how I felt about Lily.
Before Potter could react, I had already spun around and continued my wandering around the class, taking pleasure in breathing down the neck of Longbottom, taking a satisfaction in seeing him break out in nervous sweat. After all, if he had been the chosen one, Lily Potter would still be alive now.
But somehow even as I paced, I could not shake the vision of Lily from my head no matter how hard I tried. It seemed ages ago when I had last sat in this same classroom, right besides her, secretly happy over Slughorn's teasing about Lily and I being "lovebirds", for we had sat together and had been potions partners since our first year, a Slytherin and Gryffindor. We had been brewing the draught of living death too, that particular lesson when it happened.
"No, you're supposed to add the infusion of wormwood first, before stirring it again," Lily chuckled, 'Wow, what happened to your fantastic potions skills, you're always forgetting ingredients," she teased. I blushed a little. Truth was, I was too engrossed staring at her chopping up the Sophophorus bean that my potion skills were starting to suffer. I had no idea what to say in reply, but since Lily did most of the talking, all I had to do was sit there and nod. It was those potions classes that were my best memories, Lily's presence brightened up everything and made me feel extremely lucky to have her besides me.
I could sense that James Potter behind me was rather upset at Lily and me being in such close proximity, and interacting so cheerfully. It was well known to almost all the students in Hogwarts that he had a huge crush on Lily and the longest sentence that he had managed to get out of her had been, "I wouldn't go out with you if it were a choice between you and the giant squid."
Something told me that there was something not quite right. James and Sirius were usually constantly whispering during potions class, but suddenly they had gone quiet. I had learnt the hard way that James and Sirius quiet behind me usually meant trouble was on the way. Still, it was hard to believe anything bad could happen with Lily besides me, the floral scent of her hair in the air and her voice like music in my ears.
All of sudden, the cauldron tipped towards me, the boiling hot contents all over my robes, the almost finished potion simmering on me. I could hear the sniggering coming from James and Sirius, and suddenly, I was consumed with a mad, angry desire to make them pay for disrupting the otherwise perfect potions class, and for making me look like a fool in front of Lily.
