Glinda Baker is a terrifying force to be reckoned with.

Unfortunately for me, I must reckon with her every day of my miserable existence.

Today she looked especially nice, her black headband sat neatly in her pale blonde hair which curled perfectly. I was jealous of the graceful way her robes moved about her, and the way her curls gently bounced as she walked.

"You look like shit, are you sick?"

I was not jealous of her personality.

"No, I'm not."

"Ah, I guess this is just how you usually look then."

At least today wasn't a Tuesday.

"What's on the agenda for today, then?" I asked, sighing as I readjusted my satchel.

"The usual, we've got charms and history today. Boring enough to forget every week, is it?"

"I'm sure I don't have to answer that."

"Right you are, anyhow," Glinda started talking about some girl who was in her defense against the dark arts class whose greatest fear was apparently candles, and how silly that was.

"Well, it could burn her house down," I reasoned.

"So could a wand, but we practically sleep with them under our pillows."

"Ooh, that is a fair point."

"Of course it is, I made it."

"Hello there," two unison voices of an easily guessed pair spoke from behind us.

"Ah, the Weasley twins. To what do we owe the absolute pleasure?" Glinda's witty sarcasm missed not a single beat as we turned around to face them.

"George tells me one of you is quite nifty with the ingredients for a wit-sharpener. I was wondering if I could commission a batch."

"You'll have to take that up with him, he's the expert with potions," she jabbed her thumb in my direction.

Don't think I didn't notice the shared look of cleverness that Glinda and George shared, like they were in on a secret I knew nothing about. Jokes on them, I am the secret, and unfortunately I am shockingly self-aware.

"Expert is a bit of a strong word to use," I spoke quickly, remembering the few failed batches that stunk up the dorm for a week.

"Well, what's the price for a batch from a non-expert?" Fred continued, the awkwardness seemingly having no effect on the boy.

"Oh, I don't know about money-," I stammered.

"Charms homework, for a week," Glinda propositioned on my behalf, quirking her eyebrow up. "I happen to know both of you are experts on that."

"Well, we wouldn't say experts," George smoothly humble-bragged, "More like, very talented."

"Extremely," Fred corrected. "Charms homework for a week, sounds like a fair enough trade for a cauldron of wit-sharpener. What'd you say, Soot?"

Hearing just my last name come out of his mouth was enough to make me disassociate for a good few moments before realizing everyone was indeed staring at me.

"Oh, yes. Sounds good enough to me."

"Right on, meet you in the library after four o'clock classes, then?"

"Mm, yes, of course," I mumbled, not even sure this entire conversation wasn't a sleep deprivation induced hallucination.

"Wow, what a player you are," Glinda's sarcasm made another appearance to snap me out of my haze.

"Oh no, that was real was it? I was hoping I was somehow still asleep."

"It was real alright, real awkward. You need to brew up some liquid luck alongside that wit-sharpener if this is to work out."

"What do you mean?"

"A batch of wit-sharpener by the end of four o-clock classes? Are you out of your mind?"

"Merlin, I wasn't even paying attention." I rushed to the potions classroom, it should be empty around this time.

"Don't tell me the ever so studious Thomas Soot is going to be skipping classes?"

"I'm going to have to if I want to make a successful batch, I've only got an hour or so at most. Why did you call me an expert?"

"To build you up, of course. Nobody wants to snog with someone who's mediocre at potions."

"But I am mediocre at potions-"

"Fred doesn't need to know that," she coolly replied, pushing open the door ahead of me.

The cavernous room was empty but I felt like Snape somehow still had eyes on me. That crawling feeling of being watched stayed with me the entire time I brewed a cauldron of wit-sharpener and filled up about six vials full of the stuff.

"This will win serious brownie points," Glinda clapped giddily.

"You know, I've been wondering," I glanced over at her suspiciously, "What do you get out of all of this?"

"What do you mean?" She tilted her head to the side. Our eyes met as I looked up to her, sitting beside my cauldron on the counter. She could never sit properly, could she?

"Glinda Baker only participates in things that benefit her, what's George giving you to make this worth your while?"

She smirked mischievously, sending chills down my spine. "Wouldn't you like to know, Soot?"

"I would, that's why I'm asking."

"Well, I'm not telling you."

"What, why? Don't tell me it's illegal."

"Then I'm definitely not telling you."

"Oh, Merlin, forget I asked."

"Anyways, four o'clock classes end in about five minutes, we better get to the library to meet your loverboy on time."

Glinda switched subjects fast, and I was eager to get to the library anyways, so the topic was left in the potions classroom as we fled into the hallway. The bustle of students being dismissed from class flooded the stone pathways and conversations bounced off the walls loudly.

Fred and George were late.

"Have I been stood up?" I asked Glinda glumly, shifting my satchel from one hip to another.

"You better not have been," she coldly replied, tightening her crossed arms, "or I'll have some speaking to do with George."

"I mean, I really shouldn't have gotten my hopes up anyways." My words were mumbled, and Glinda's rage radiated off of her in waves of heat. If I hadn't known where her rage was directed, the feeling of it would have sent me running for the hills.

"There you are, Soot," I looked up to see George, with Fred trailing behind him. "We got a bit held up."

"Might I have a word with you, George?" Glinda spoke, her demeanor changed entirely to something pleasant and flowery. She even tossed a lock of hair over her shoulder and batted her lashes, so I knew it was over for him before he even nodded in agreement.

"Let's see it, then," Fred smiled as the two left. A chill went up my spine at the thought of how Glinda was probably ripping into George right now.

"Oh, of course," I stuttered, opening up my satchel and pulling out a vial for Fred to inspect. My eyes couldn't help but focus on his face as he held it up to the light and watched the potion glisten and glimmer.

"It's perfect," he whispered, uncapping the cork and taking a brief breath of the mist, "Potent, too."

"I sure hope so," I nervously laughed, unsure what to do with myself.

"Alright, a deal's a deal, Soot." Fred held out his hand and shook it a bit with an open palm. Awkwardly, I stared at it for a moment, not really sure what I was supposed to do.

So, I smacked my hand onto his and left it there, looking at him with confusion.

"You charms homework," he whispered, a haphazard smile plastered on his face as he nodded at our hands.

"Right." Literally kill me.

I pulled out a few papers and a copy of my assignments and planted them in his hand. His fingers brushed over where my hand had held them as he put them in his own satchel, the glass of the transferred vials clinking in his bag.

"See you at the same time tomorrow, yeah?" He rolled his eyes, letting out a quiet huff, "Hopefully George won't make us late next time."

"Hopefully," I replied, "See you tomorrow."

Wordlessly, he nodded and waved, turning around and leaving me as if he hadn't came. The only proof I had that our conversation was real was the weightlessness of my empty satchel.

"I sure hope George is still alive," I muttered to myself, walking alone back to the Hufflepuff common room as butterflies swirled around in my stomach.