Monday 28th Nov

Rose had Albus for Transfiguration, and he was already seated when she arrived.

"Don't." Rose snapped as she took her place.

"I didn't—"

"Just don't." she replied, not meeting her cousin's eye.

"Ok." He relinquished, and an uncomfortable silence fell between them. Rose could sense how much Albus wanted to discuss it, which meant he could sense how much she didn't want to.

The silence carried until Professor Zhou arrived, returning their marked essays. Rose's heart was in her mouth as she flipped the paper over, the feeling only eased when she spotted the 'O' at the top of the page.

"Sweet." She sighed, leaning back in her chair.

"Good mark?" Al asked, tucking his own essay into his backpack.

"Yeah. You?"

Al shrugged, and Rose recognized disappointment in the too-casual posture he held,

"Al…"

"It's fine." He said quickly, avoiding her eye.

"You know," she sat forward, "if you want help, just ask."

"Yeah, Scorp has already been helping me. I passed, it's fine. Good. Passes are good, right?"

"If you're happy with it, then it's good."

Albus looked like he was trying pretty hard to convince himself of that, and his gloomy attitude ignited a whole other realm of guilt for Rose. She'd been so caught up in the 'Malfoy' issue, she hadn't been keeping a close enough eye on things in Albus' world.

But Professor Zhou was welcoming them all to the lesson, and her presence was the kind that commanded attention,

"Now that we've finished our part on Human Transfiguration, we're going to be entering the theory section of our syllabus—" her lips quirked at the barely suppressed groan around the classroom, "which I can tell you've all been looking forward to. Now—"

She strode across the room, a slight draft upsetting a few fly-away strands of her pin-straight hair—the only head of hair in the classroom longer than Rose's.

"You all know the practical process behind vera verto," The professor opened one of the several cages that lined the classroom's walls, holding all manner of creature. A raven willingly hopped onto her hand, allowing itself to be pulled from the cage without protest.

"Vera verto." She uttered the spell and, as expected, the raven seamlessly transitioned into a goblet, which she placed on her desk, "So, we know that I have temporarily used magic to rearrange the make-up of the raven—at the smallest level—to change it to a water goblet. That, remember, is the main difference between Transfiguration, and other, simpler spells. Transfiguration changes the item on a molecular level, not just altering or masking its appearance so it seems to be a water goblet. It is, for all intents and purposes, a water goblet. But what of the thought process of this raven—what of the state of its consciousness, self-awareness? Anyone have any ideas?"

Rose raised her hand, and Professor Zhou nodded, granting Rose permission to speak,

"When a living organism is transfigured into an inanimate object, the consciousness of the living thing is also transfigured. So, the raven doesn't have any awareness of its current state change, and has the consciousness—or lack of—of an ordinary water goblet."

"Very good, Miss Weasley-Granger, but— yes, Mister Malfoy?"

Rose refused to turn around, but she could feel Albus watching her carefully—his concern a confirmation of Malfoy's inevitably smug expression from a few rows behind her,

"That's just a theory, however," Rose could feel Malfoy's arrogance directed at her from across the room, "because it remains unproven until we can find a way to measure the awareness and consciousness of water goblets."

That earned a few sniggers, and Rose fought the blush that threatened to rise to her cheeks.

"Exactly, Mister Malfoy. Five points to Slytherin."

So they were back to normal now? He was going to one-up her in class, just like he always had? Would he have a cruel quip waiting for her outside of the classroom as well? If it wasn't for the way Albus was watching her, Rose could've sworn last night's argument had been a particularly vivid dream.

Professor Zhou was moving on, and Rose struggled to keep her mind on the lesson. She was especially preoccupied by the feeling of a set of eyes burning into the back of her head, daring her to turn around. But, in her own silent rebellion, she refused to budge.

Rose said her farewells to Albus at the end of the lesson—she headed for Potions when he had Care of Magical Creatures. At least that was a subject Albus had a natural affinity for—never earning less than Outstanding in any assignment he attempted.

Magda was the only friend of Rose's that took NEWT Potions, and though Scorpius took it too, it would be a cold day in hell before he was defined as a 'friend' in Rose's mind.

Reaching the classroom, she and Magda set up their individual cauldrons on the same desk, ready for their practical lesson. They were a week into brewing their own Polyjuice Potion, and Professor Slughorn had promised that he would give a personal demonstration to the effects of the Polyjuice Potion, using the best brewed potion in the class. But best of all, its brewer could select the person he'd turn into—within reason.

Potions was Rose's best subject—and with her mother's history with the potion—she was eager to fulfil the expectations placed upon her.

Knotting her long hair back into loose bun—fastening it all with multiple sticking charms to keep it together—she rolled her sleeves back and headed for the ingredients cupboard. She made sure to pick out only the best—the juiciest slugs, the freshest knotgrass—and Slughorn beamed at the care she took.

"I must say, Rosie," he nudged her conspiratorially, "my money is on you for this little competition."

"Thank you, Professor." She tried to smother a smile of pride, at least trying not to look like a teacher's pet.

Rose was organising her items—still at the cupboard—when movement in her peripheral vision caught her attention from across the room.

Malfoy was hovering over her cauldron—seemingly sneaking a peek when she was busy with ingredients—and judging by his scowl, he wasn't pleased by Rose's progress. His hair back up in its leather tie, the strands that had escaped were straggly, probably weighed down by the heavy fumes filling the room. Like Rose, his sleeves were rolled to his elbow, revealing pale forearms shaped by Quidditch training.

Take a look, you prick, she found the smug thoughts forming as he lifted his gaze from her cauldron, letting it meet hers—most likely feeling the heat of her glare from across the room.

His scowl lifted into a toothy smile—flashing a set of unnervingly straight, white teeth—before tilting his head in acknowledgment, as though he were tipping an invisible hat for her. Rose's obvious confusion made him laugh, and he mouthed his ridiculous nickname for her 'Roza' before striding confidently to his own cauldron again.

When Rose set herself up at the desk, she thought about asking Magda for an analysis on Malfoy's weird behaviour. But guessing by the deep crease of concentration between her friend's eyebrows, it was unlikely Magda had paid any attention, if even noticing Scorpius' detour to their side of the classroom.

He's trying to throw you off, Rose reminded herself firmly. It was just like Quidditch, and if they gave house points for mind games, Malfoy would single-handedly win the cup every year.

Rose put her energy into the potion instead, counting each stir and managing the temperature of her cauldron with almost militaristic precision.

Just over thirty minutes later, Rose was ready to add the final ingredient for this lesson, before setting her cauldron under stasis and continuing tomorrow. The brew was perfect so far—this final addition would develop the potion's grey into the muddy green that was required.

Tilting the glass vessel carefully—Rose didn't dare breathe—the final lacewing fly fell into the cauldron, hitting the surface of the potion with a hiss. The colour changed immediately, nothing but perfect.

Rose beamed. There was no room for doubt now, Rose would be getting top marks for this one. Her mother would be pleased, she'd have to write and tell her first thing tomorrow—

But her cauldron issued another hiss, and Rose frowned, peeking into it. The previously perfect green had darkened to an oil slick black, which bubbled and boiled ominously in the cauldron,

"What—?" Rose fumbled for her Potions textbook, frantically skimming the instructions, trying to figure out what could've gone wrong. "But I—!"

She wasn't given time to finish her train of thought, however, as one frightfully loud bang sounded, and the black sludge melted through the bottom of her cauldron.

Her previous confusion had turned to full-blown panic now, as the black sludge inched along her desk, corroding through the wood alarmingly fast.

"Ah! What—" Rose cried, desperately grabbing at her possessions lest the creeping black sludge eat them too.

The commotion had caught Slughorn's attention now, "Rose, is everything alright?"

"There's—there's something wrong with my potion!" Tears prickled—her panic was walking the dangerous line of hysteria as embarrassment set in. Her classmates watched wearily, some with amusement, others with pity. At least Magda was helping; the girl was in the process of performing a stasis charm to stop the slow progress of the black sludge across the desktop.

"I did everything right I—" she all but sobbed, clutching her belongings desperately out of the way, on anxious tiptoes—afraid to approach but afraid to abandon her workbench.

All it took was a snigger. She heard it, even amid the chaos, and something clicked into place.

She spun on her heel, pointing an accusing finger in Malfoy's direction. A few of her things fell from her shaking arms, but she didn't care, not when she knew—

"You! You m-messed with my potion! I saw you, hovering over it—"

"Don't try to blame your lack of magical proficiency on me." Malfoy snapped quickly, his eyes glittering coldly.

"You prat—" it was that metal taste again, her view of him wavered, though she knew he fists would not. She just needed, had to hit some square of him, hurt him—

There was a bang, and Rose found herself pushed back by a powerful shield charm, her school shoes sliding on the worn stone floors.

"You psycho bitch!" Malfoy yelled, his own cheeks tinged pink with anger.

"You—"

"ENOUGH!" Slughorn bellowed, and all noise in the classroom immediately ceased. Their Potions professor had never raised his voice before, and the students were shocked into silence. "Enough!" A vein was pulsing dangerously fast in Slughorn's neck, and his usually neat comb over was in disarray.

"Both of you to the Headmistress' office now!" he dabbed at his forehead with a handkerchief.

"But—!" both parties protested in unison.

"NOW!"

Rose ducked her head, walking directly for the door. She felt Scorpius follow, but refused to even acknowledge him. She knew that if he said a single word to her—especially 'Roza'—she wouldn't be responsible for her actions. The anger was still there, just bubbling and fizzing away as it waited for an outlet—much like her ruined potion.

So they walked to McGonagall's office in silence, Scorpius keeping a few paces back. It wasn't until they reached the entrance gargoyle—Rose spitting the password—that it became a race. They fought each other up the staircase, eager to make it to the Headmistress first and recite their version of the story. But ultimately it was a tie, so both parties burst through the doorframe together,

"He sabotaged—!"

"She tried to—!"

Professor McGonagall, who'd been marking parchment with an eagle owl quill, raised her eyebrows at their outburst, with had the effect of casting an immediate silence over the two prefects.

"Sit." Was all she said, gesturing pointedly at two high-backed seats before her desk. Her lips were yet to un-purse, which Rose knew was a warning sign.

Each party took their seat.

"Explain to me, one at a time, what brings you to my office. Miss Weasley-Granger?"

Rose felt a wave of self-satisfaction at being chosen first, but she repressed it to relay her tale with the necessary gravity. McGonagall was silent throughout, but her lips remained pursed.

"You believe Malfoy intentionally sabotaged your potion?" she paraphrased, and Rose nodded.

"That's a very serious accusation, Miss Weasley-Granger. Are you sure?"

"I just know—"

McGonagall cut her off, looking to Malfoy,

"Do you have a rebuttal for these accusations, Mister Malfoy?"

Malfoy seemed to stumble over his words, before his pale skin flushed, "She concussed me in Quidditch! She knew our Transfiguration essay was due on Monday, and I failed because I missed the deadline! It was sabotage!"

Rose scoffed, "I would've beaten you anyway." She couldn't help it.

"I've been beating you in Transfiguration for years, don't be—"

"Enough!" McGonagall interjected forcefully, stopping the argument in its tracks, "This is ridiculous! Frankly, I expect far more maturity from two of Hogwarts' best students, and Prefects, at that!"

She paused to adjust her glasses, before placing one hand over the other on her desk.

"Malfoy, if you would relay your perspective on the events of the lesson, please?"

Malfoy explained himself quickly, at least having the good grace to look embarrassed when he mentioned tampering with Rose's potion, but he lingered far too long on her attempted assault (in Rose's opinion).

"You tried to use physical violence on Mister Malfoy?" McGonagall's sharp gaze was on her now, and Rose flushed like Malfoy had.

She shuffled in her seat, her hand jumping down to fidget with them hem of her skirt, "I suppose I did lose my temper a bit—" she admitted.

McGonagall sighed, adjusting her glasses once more. There was a long pause, and both parties watched her with trepidation.

"It sounds to me as though you've both inherited a very old rivalry." She began, "One that you both refuse to analyse beyond surface value, which is unusual, as you're both intelligent and analytical young adults.

"I believe," she continued, "that if you two cannot get along of your own accord, you'll have to be forced to find a way. Which is why, starting tomorrow, the two of you will spend an hour in each other's company—twice a week—brewing another Polyjuice Potion. Using a single cauldron." She added quickly, "In the hopes, that by the end of the month, you will have figured out how to handle each other with the maturity I'd expect from Prefects."

"I hope, Mister Malfoy, you will learn that revenge is a pointless and petty endeavour," her gaze swivelled to Rose, "and I hope, Miss Weasley-Granger, that violence is not a reasonable reaction in the face of conflict."

Rose felt adequately deflated, and judging by the line of Malfoy's shoulders, he did too.

McGonagall had picked up her quill, turning back for her parchment,

"Close the door behind you." She told them, which was their dismissal.

But as they got up to leave, Scorpius was nearly at the door in haste, she spoke again,

"Oh, and a letter will be sent to your respective parents. Good day."