The Closest Thing Potions Part I
"You're the beauty that is deeper, than eyes can merely see. The closest thing to perfect, but the farthest thing from me." The great Oliver Wood finds the girl of his dreams the only problem is she despises him. Can he win her over or will she forever judge him by his faults instead of the beauty the lies beneath?
OW/OC rated pg-13 for language and just to be safe.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything about this except for those characters, places, and themes not present in any of JKR's books
A/N: i know the lines are a little weird and hard to read and i apologize for my computers screwyness..anyways this is a two partchapter so the rest of it is in the nextpart...
I've always walked somewhat quickly through the gloomy shadows that lingered all round the dungeons except for the scarce places that were dimly lit by the dripping candles hanging from the walls. The silence there is absurd, you can hear the water leaking sneakily in from the ceiling and the rats that are scurrying about beside you in the dark. How any one can live in Slytherin I have no clue, the whole doom and gloom, massive shudder type thing went out of style decades ago centuries ago. 'They really need to get some new decorators down here now and again.' I think to myself, looking around me as I enter the Potions room.
I take an empty desk in the upper middle of the room as always. People who sit in front are always the know- it-all types who look way to happy to be there. They always do everything according to what teachers say or suggest and then take it to the extreme. It's like the 'I tell you to jump, you just ask how high' type thing except they also ask what the correct form for jumping is, which direction to jump in, and how many times you require them to do this consecutively.
The back of the class is the polar opposite. Slackers tend to take up the back for their naps, doodling, or social time. This all tends to work out exquisitely because this way the people who actually want to pay attention can hear, where as the dud's can flunk out in the back with out bringing the rest of us down with 'em.
I sat doodling on a spare piece of parchment, ultimately bored with the fact that I had no friends in this class for the rest of the year. As I was bent over my paper intensely into finishing my sketch before class started, I felt someone drop into the chair next to me. I didn't bother to move my head I just looked questionably up until I saw who my seat mate was and then my eyes rolled in aggravation and I returned my eyes to my paper and pretended to be ultra busy.
"Ahem," He coughed purposely and idiotically, trying to get me to look at him, but I didn't want to give him the satisfaction. Instead I simply reached mechanically down into my bag, and roamed my hand around inside until I my hand grasped the crinkly cellophane wrapper. I pulled the round cough drop out, and placed in gently on his desk with out looking at him and was rewarded with a slight blush. "Uh, Thanks." He blurted out dumbly. I nodded with my eyebrows slightly raised in a 'Ok-idiot-just-please-don't-talk-to-me' kind of manner. I admit it was rude, but hey, the kid's a jerk, he doesn't deserve my kindness. If you cough at me that's fine, but you'll get a cough drop not an answer, nobody with any manners starts conversations with a cough.
"I'm Oliver Wood, what's your..." He said as he tried to speak again, 'no shit sherlock' I thought but luckily was saved from whatever intelligent thing he was going to finish saying by the arrival of Professor Snape. Dressed in a typical black cloak with his hair greased back (with what might possibly have been snail slime for the way it was glopped together) he walked angrily to the front of the classroom grinding his laser beam glare into any student who dared make eye contact with him.
He walked up to the slightly raised platform in the front where his old oak desk was. With vengeance, he slammed the 7th year textbook on to it causing it to quiver almost to the point of breaking.
"Good Morning Class," He said acid way that definitely did not agree with his words. Spitting out every word he began with his tyrant like ways, "We shall begin by opening to page one hundred and twenty seven, paragraph four."
"Pontiapagina" I uttered quietly, magically opening the page to the exact page. You have to be very quiet about using wand magic near Snape. He has this silly notion that Potions is above 'frivolous wand waving' and that his class is so much superior because of it. That's just plain bullshit in my opinion, but nether here nor there it's never a good idea to do magic in front of him.
The book read simply, not bothered with extra words or pictures, it was boring and left a lot to be desired. I read it as Snape began to drone on:
Sleeping Draught
Chiefly used by tribes of Great Britain to sedate giants in 1800's, commonly used today in medical facilities for patients who are in immense pain. Should be used with caution! Do not drink more than directed, will cause severe magical sleep in which the person sleeping cannot be awoken until after the effects have worn off.
'Lovely' she thought to herself before turning her attention back to her greasy haired professor. "I want two feet by Friday on the varied accidents and issues, in chronological order, that have occurred since its creation along with no less than two book sources other than you textbook. This must be written in blue ink, and no papers will be regarded as late, do you understand?" he said quickly. He didn't wait for anyone to nod or to acknowledge him verbally, you didn't do that in his class, he simply went on.
"I have here a written review sheet, which should take you the rest of the period to finish. There will be no conferring with the person sitting next to you. This is an exam, if you have read your new textbook and finished the assigned coursework for this summer I am sure this will be easy for you." He smiled manically and paused gazing out at us through his milky eyes.
TO BE CONTINUED IN NEXT CHAPTER…
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