It was Thursday now, several days after the incident. I hated Thursdays; they were double Potions. Though, I didn't hate potions for the reason most people did — most people being the Gryffindors. I had no issue with Professor Snape. When my brews would explode in my face like that Gryffindor Seamus Finnegan, Snape would ignore my sorry mess and go for berating the soot-covered Gryffindor instead. I suppose it was because I was a Slytherin that I got to slide by in my worst subject, rarely ever getting so much as an insult.

Given the sudden noise of students chattering and walking down the dungeon corridor, I supposed it was most's switching period. Oh, how I wished I could just walk out of Potions right then and leave for some other subject: Arithmancy maybe. Professor Snape had graciously obliged in allowing me to pick up another class; I was very excited to start come Monday.

"The first hour of Potions has ended…," called Professor Snape, breaking the deadly silence that was present in the room. "Drop your quills, and hand over your exams…," his monotonous slow drawl ordered. "Hopefully… the lot of you remembered your lessons from second year. It'd be most… dissatisfying… to see otherwise." He eyed the group of Gryffindors on one side of the classroom.

I set my white feathered quill onto its stand I had and stared down at my potion's exam miserably. I wasn't finished, not even close. I glanced around the room to see that the other students were just as miserable as I was, except one of course — Granger.

"Finally," she heaved as she stood up from her seat.

"Impatiently waiting to turn in your exam, Miss Granger?" asked Snape, who shot a glance in her direction. "I do hope that big-head of yours hasn't… misled you."

The Slytherins, myself, and a surprising number of Gryffindors, snicked at Professor Snape's comment. Granger didn't take kindly to this as she huffed and shoved her exam into Snape's hands, storming back to take her seat.

"Bloody lunatic, I tell ya. I don't know how she does it," someone whispered from the Gryffindor side of the room.

I stood up with the rest of the students and shamefully turned in my exam packet. After everyone was seated, Professor Snape slapped the stack of papers on his desk and turned around sharply, his robes flying along with him.

"Now!" Snape started, grabbing at his robes to straighten them out. "For the next hour, we will be brewing a potion by the name of Shrinking Solution. Does anyone here know anything about this brew?" He ignored Granger whose hand, of course, shot up before he had even finished his sentence. "No one? What a shame," he groaned, then he shot me a glance. "Y/L/N."

I stiffened up in my seat from the sudden mention of my name, as I was originally slouched with my chin in my hand. I glanced around the room and saw all eyes on me. Granger scoffed and crossed her arms.

"Tell me, what is the Shrinking Solution?" Professor Snape quizzed, as he watched me intensely.

I was incredibly on edge. "Uhm, it shrinks the consumer?" I answered, hoping the name was an obvious clue.

"Very well done. Ten points to Slytherin," he granted with a half-grin.

I let out a relieving sigh and hid away back into my palm. I'm sure Snape knew it was a simple question that anyone with even half a brain cell could deduce, meaning I, his worst Slytherin student, could easily answer it and win his house some points.

Suddenly, a loud sound of the door being slung open caught everyone's attention. Malfoy swaggered through the dungeon door, his right arm still in bandages and sling. He looked healthy again. He also looked just as pompous as ever with a smug look as if he had returned a heroic survivor of some dreadful battle.

Pansy, of course, hopped out of her seat instantly upon seeing the blond. "How is it, Draco?" she simpered. "Does it hurt much?" She walked him to a seat between me and her.

"Oh, yeah," said Malfoy, putting on a brave grimace. He winked at Crabbe, Goyle, and me when Pansy had looked away. I rolled my eyes at him. I thought he wasn't hurt, but then Malfoy pulled some willow bark from his robe and bit it, giving only me a wink this time. Maybe he was still in pain.

"Settle down, settle down," said Professor Snape idly. "Now, back as we were before… Mr Malfoy… decided to make us all aware he is alive and well," he began. "The Shrinking Solution, ... or also called, Shrinking Potion... is a brew that shrinks whoever drinks it, as Miss Y/L/N has told us. A farmer could shrink his entire herd and put them all in just his pocket... if he so desired," he informed.

Malfoy glanced at me, seemingly impressed that I had given a right answer. I shook my head at him and rolled my eyes. It really wasn't anything to be proud of; I was more embarrassed than anything.

"You are to find the instructions to today's brew on page 429 through 431… Do… be sure you all read through it… diligently," Snape informed. "If you find yourself in need of help… do better. None will be found here."

Soon, all students were setting up their workstations. Malfoy set up his potions equipment next to Potter and his friend. I raised a brow in curiosity, though I was certain in what the mangy blond was up to. I walked over and set up my stuff next to Malfoy's. He didn't seem very excited to see me, as he eyed me as if I were a mutt begging for food.

"Y/L/N, what are you doing?" Malfoy hissed in a whisper.

"Making sure you don't say or do anything stupid," I responded in a normal tone, catching the attention of the two Gryffindor boys who were oblivious to our presence until now.

Malfoy grinned maliciously at me, then turned to face Professor Snape. "Sir," Malfoy called. "sir, I'll need help cutting up these daisy roots, because of my arm—"

"Weasley cut up Malfoy's roots for him," ordered Snape without looking up.

The freckled boy beside Potter went a dark red, matching his hair.

"There's nothing wrong with your arm," Weasley hissed at Malfoy.

Malfoy smirked.

"Malfoy, I can—" I interjected, but he shushed me.

"Weasley, you heard the professor; cut up these roots." Malfoy pushed the cutting board towards the boy.

I watched as Weasley snatched his blade and began to aggressively chop the roots in a horrid, uneven mess.

"Professor...," groaned Malfoy. "Weasley's mutilating my roots, sir."

Snape approached the table and gazed at Weasley's handy work. His lips curled just ever so lightly to be mistaken for a grin, but it wasn't a good thing.

"Change roots with Malfoy, Weasley."

"But, sir—!"

"Oh, for heaven's sake!" I huffed. I swiped the botched roots from the ginger and started to carefully fix them up on my own. "I swear you all are the absolute worst!"

Professor Snape's grin quickly dropped at my actions and he turned and glided away. The three boys sitting around me all looked at me gobsmacked. I glanced around at all of them and shook my head.

"Here, Malfoy. Your roots are no longer mutilated," I huffed, setting them in front of him. "And give me this!" I said, swiping up his shrivelfigs to skin.

Malfoy was smirking at the two boys, though probably not as malicious as he would have if he had gotten Potter and Weasley to do everything for him.

"Seen your pal Hagrid lately?" he asked them quietly.

"None for your business," Weasley said jerkily, without looking up from his brew.

"I'm afraid he won't be a teacher for too much longer," said Malfoy in a tone of mock sorrow. "Father's not thrilled with my injury—"

The two boys, along with myself, shot Malfoy a cold but questioning glare.

"Keep talking, Malfoy, and I'll give you an actual injury," hissed Weasley.

"—he's complained to the school governors. And to the Ministry of Magic. Father's got a lot of influence, you know. And a lasting injury like this—" he gave a false sigh, "—who knows if my arm'll ever be the same again."

I hissed in Malfoy's direction, "What are you doing? You're just making yourself look a fool." He glanced at me with a brow raised. "No one's going to believe you're actually hurt if you keep this up, so shut up."

He eyed me with an annoyed look, "What do you care, Y/L/N? I do as I please, and right now, I please to harass the two dim-wit Gryffindors."

I let out a heavy huff, shaking my head, and returned to my potion.

"So that's why you're putting it on," accused Potter, accidentally beheading a dead caterpillar because of his hand shaking in anger. "To try and get Hagrid fired?"

"He's putting nothing on, Potter!" I shouted at him. I then turned to give Malfoy a dirty look, "He's just a big-headed jerk, incapable of making himself look good even if the opportunity slapped him across his stupidly pale face!"

The boys were at a loss for words.

For the rest of Potions, we four learnt how to hold our tongues. All was well until, of course, Professor Snape decided he had had enough of the good behaviour his students were giving and that he wanted to terrorise one who wasn't so lucky to be a Slytherin. This time around, Snape went for Neville Longbottom. Neville was just as bad at potions as me and Seamus Finnegan, if not worse, but the only difference was that Longbottom was absolutely terrified of Snape.

Everyone perked up from their chairs to watch what was going to happen next. Malfoy nudged me in my side with his unwrapped hand. He was especially enthralled, it seemed.

"Orange, Longbottom," growled Snape as he ladled up some of the failed potion up and let it splash back into the cauldron. "Orange," he repeated, then proceeded to berate the pink and trembling boy who looked as if he were about to cry.

"Please, sir," the Granger girl piped up, "please, I could help Neville fix it—"

"I don't remember asking you to show off, Miss Granger," said Professor Snape coldly. Granger went just as pink as Longbottom.

I held back a snicker, but Malfoy took notice and grinned at me. I smiled back. Professor Snape went on bullying the boy, something about needing to fix the potion himself and testing the result on his toad. Malfoy and I no longer could hold back our laughter once we saw the petrified boy's face.

Snape's head jerked in our direction, and he glided over. "Mr Malfoy. Miss Y/L/N," Snape's lowly drawl called out. I stiffened in my seat, my laughing immediately ceased and looked up at the professor. Malfoy, however, continued his chuckle as he looked at the professor. "Would you care to share what it is that's so funny?"

Malfoy grinned, "Certainly, sir." I shot him a look. "Y/L/N was just telling me how grand it would be to see Longbottom's toad shrivel up into a great ol' prune the size of the daft boy's brain."

My eyes widened at the lie and I gave Malfoy a quick, and rightfully perplexed, look. Unbelievable. 'What are you doing?' I mouthed at the rotten boy.

Snape seemed to find this very amusing news. "Very well, Mr Malfoy. Finish with your brew," he grinned, then strutted away.

I watched the professor intensely, waiting for him to get away far enough before spinning back towards Malfoy in an irritable fit. "What was that?!" I hissed.

Malfoy spun in his seat with an enormous grin. "Bothered, Y/L/N?"

"Yes, I'm bothered," I snapped. "I said no such thing and you know it."

He raised a brow, "Didn't you though? You laughed at Snape's threat, same as me." He said as he read in his potions book. He then gave me a sideways look. "You're not facing any apprehension for such a thing from the professor, so what does it matter, Y/L/N?"

"What does it matter?" I huffed, gesturing lightly around us, signifying our classmates. "I am to face apprehension from everyone else! I do not wish to be attributed to the likes of you and your friends, Malfoy!"

He looked at me fully. "Then you should have thought of that before you made yourself acquainted with the likes of me, Y/L/N." He turned away and stirred his cauldron three times clockwise. "This sounds much like an issue of your own doing. If you wish to be in cahoots with the likes of Potter and the rest of his blood-traitorous chums, then be my guest. Just know you are dead to the whole House of Slytherin."

I gaped at the boy's words, but refused to respond; I kept to my work, ignoring Malfoy.

The time came for Professor Snape to make his rounds to examine everyone's brews, but instead, he called everyone over to gather around Longbottom's station. I stayed put in my spot; my brew was horrendously wrong, and I worked urgently to fix it.

I could feel the fear emitting from all the Gryffindors that were standing behind me. A few moments like this passed. I wasn't too bothered by the tense atmosphere though; I found the silence helpful. Suddenly, a burst of applause erupted from behind. I jolted from being startled by the sudden noise and accidentally dropped in much more than a dash of leech juice. I slapped my hands over my mouth in horror. My loud gasp caught the attention of Snape, who walked over to me.

"Is there a problem Miss Y/L/N? Too busy being a flower on the wall to join class instruction?" His eyes dropped down to my brew, "Another failed potion, I see." The brew was bright orange and bubbled. Everyone shuffled and gathered around my station to see what was happening. I was brick red from embarrassment. Snape took a ladle and put it into the hot liquid, but as he did, it exploded in his face.

The entire class gasped. Snape threw down the charred ladle onto the table and shot me a look with his soot-covered face.

"Miss Y/L/N…" he began and glanced to his side where Malfoy sat laughing to himself. "Mr Malfoy, seeing as you find this quite funny and your brewage is perfect as always… I want you to tutor Miss Y/L/N on your free period on Thursdays… starting… today..."

Malfoy instantly stopped laughing. "But sir—!"

"Want me to make it Tuesdays as well, Mr Malfoy?" Snape sneered. "Oh, and Miss Granger," he turned to look at the curly-haired girl that looked rather shocked to be called upon. "Five points from Gryffindor. If I recall correctly, I told you to not help Longbottom. Class dismissed!"

Malfoy glared at me. "Here. After third-hour then, Y/L/N," he said sharply as he packed his things and left for lunch in the great hall.

I was sure I had not been so cross in all my days. I grabbed my own supplies and headed up the dungeon stairs in a huff. If next Thursday didn't go any better, I was going to down one of Longbottom's potions myself. Even being shrivelled down to the size of a walnut would be vastly preferable to another lesson like that.