Chapter 6: Better a Witty Fool Than a Foolish Wit

The feelings came first.

They started when Clara was around six years old, and she hadn't noticed that anything was amiss at first. She had a close-knit family- it was only natural that she could tell that her father had a bad day at work before he came through the door, and that her mother was sometimes hit with a bout of melancholy so strong it made Clara's head hurt, even if she acted like she was happy. She could feel Cedric's sleepiness in the mornings if he didn't get a good night's rest, Mum's delight when Dad brought her flowers on Sunday mornings, and Dad's anger when he watched a particularly bad game of Quidditch.

It was as natural as breathing for her; she thought it was normal. She bet Cedric and Mum and Dad could feel her emotions, too.

The age of six was a difficult one for Clara- she was an emotional child, "sensitive" as her Mum often called her. Her own emotions became more complex with her age, and her incidents of baby magic grew into accidental flareups common for a witch as young as herself that terrified her anyway. Pulsing headaches, cracked windows, and big, fat tears rolling down two chubby cheeks were nearly a daily occurrence, but she was soothed by her parents and her brother with pieces of toffee and cuddles. After all, some children were simply more emotional than others, and Siobhan and Amos assumed that she'd grow out of this phase as she matured.

The thoughts came a little later.

It was the middle of July, and the sticky-hot days of summer dragged on almost tauntingly as Clara patiently awaited her eleventh birthday. But finally, after what felt like years and years and years, July 16th had finally arrived, and she was able to celebrate her special day with some of their family friends in the brand- new dress Siobhan Diggory had bought for her daughter solely for the occasion. The lavender tulle fabric billowed out around the little girl elegantly, and her mother had told her countless times throughout the day to stop spinning in circles in order to ward off a headache.

But a headache came anyway, and her eleventh birthday resumed outside in the garden as she laid in her bed with a wet cloth laying across her forehead. Grey eyes were shut tight as cool droplets from the cloth spilled onto her face, curtains had been drawn to a close, and the only sound in the room was the gentle brushing of her mother's hand in her daughter's dark, wavy locks and the soft singing of an old, Irish lullaby.

Siobhan looked down at Clara as she sat beside her, a wistful feeling rising on her check as she ran her fingers through her child's hair. A sense of familiarity and recognition wrapped around Clara like a blanket, and the young girl felt the distinct aura of something bittersweet graze her skin just as gently as her mother's touch.

"You remind me so much of Marlene," Siobhan whispered.

Clara's eyebrows furrowed, and she blinked up at the ceiling before turning towards her mother, whose face was dour with a woeful expression. "Mummy," she replied as the throbbing sensation in her temples started to pound against her skull aggressively. "Who's that?"

"Who's who, darling?"

"Marlene."

Siobhan's hand stilled entirely, and her body paralyzed with shock as she looked at her little girl. "What did you say?" she asked her daughter quietly, her face pale and devoid of any color that was there. Clara blinked again; her face mustered up in confusion.

"Marlene. Who's that?"

As if her forehead had suddenly burst into flames, Siobhan flinched as if she'd been hit, and her hand recoiled away from her as Clara attempted to sit up in her bed. "Where did you hear that name?" she choked out, her throat bobbing as she forced herself to swallow. "Clara darling, where did you hear that name?"

"Mummy, you just said it. You just said 'Marlene.'"

Grief replaced shock and confusion, and Clara's head continued to pulse painfully as her mother looked at her in horror. She had never seen her look at her slack-jawed liked that, she had never seen anyone's eyes gaze at her in a way one could only describe as haunted.

"No I didn't, Clara."

"Yes, you did. You said I reminded you of Marlene. Who is she?"

Siobhan's mouth fell open and closed, her hands shaking as they folded in her lap. "Clara," she said heatedly, attempting to remain calm despite the overwhelming feelings sinking in her chest. "You're not in any trouble, but I'm asking that you don't lie to me. Now, where did you hear that name? Who said that to you?"

Clara's eyes widened and welled up with tears, complete disbelief filling her as she stared back. "Mummy, I just heard you say it. When I was laying down, you said it to me."

"No, I-"

"Yes you did!" Clara exclaimed loudly, her hands flying up to her temples and grabbing at her hair. "Yes you did, Mummy, I heard you! You did say it to me," she cried.

The discernable sound of the window cracking broke through their tense standoff, and the girl moaned as she gripped at the sides of her head in terrible pain. Siobhan quickly stood up and adjusted the curtains as she assessed the damage done to the glass pane, and she moved her way back to her crying daughter. Two strong hands pulled Clara back down to her previous position, and she found herself laying on her pillow as tears fell into her hair while she clenched her eyes shut as tightly as possible.

"Hush, hush my love," Siobhan told her, the anger still palpable in her voice despite her attempts to pacify her pained child. "You need to calm yourself."

"But-!"

"No," her mother interrupted seriously, her eyes wild with a mix of emotions. "You need to rest now, darling. And I don't ever, ever want to hear you say that name again, do you understand? It's important that you never do."

Clara glanced up at her, pushing past the pain radiating through her skull to try to make sense of her mother's reaction. It was then when she looked into a matching pair of slate-grey eyes that she realized her mother was not in fact as angry as she sounded, instead the dark-haired woman felt something equally as alarming, something strangling and vice-tight that made the little girl swallow thickly.

Fear.

Not anger, but fear.

Like an unused muscle, the early signs of Clara's legilimency atrophied into something weak and unstable; an unreliable skill she could only ever use when she pushed herself to focus in a way she rarely ever did. The terrified look in her mother's eyes never quite left her memory, and deep inside her own mind, a startling correlation between her ability and the feelings of hurt and fear and horror festered itself in her chest like a wound. By the time she came to Hogwarts and was able to make sense of what she really was, the roots of something painful had already cemented itself into her heart. She never wanted to hurt anyone the way she had clearly hurt her mother that day, and as the years went by, the only mind Clara could read that didn't belong to Cedric or her parents was the occasional loud, stray passing thought from a stranger.

Yet the most intuitive part of her legilimency, the outskirts of the skill that manifested in a seemingly heightened empathy for the people around her, grew into something more manageable. It grew into something useful, a talent that didn't feel nearly as invasive or upsetting as probing the inner workings of one's mind.

But still, weakened, atrophied muscle or not, her legilimency was still there. Clinging to her limply and weighing her down, it persisted.

Clara sat at the dinner table next to Cedric, her fingers rubbing at her temples as she tried to ward off the incoming migraine even though she knew there was little she could do about it. Her plate went untouched, her favorite meal of chicken and leek pie getting colder as the minutes passed by and her fork merely pushed it around the dish. Cedric looked at her concernedly, his finger poking her in the cheek in an attempt to make her laugh. She met his gaze with a weak smile and waved his hand away.

"What's wrong?" he asked her quietly. "You love chicken and leak pie."

"Just a bit of a headache, I think," she replied wearily. Cedric's eyebrows furrowed together, and he looked around conspiratorially as he leaned in. Before he could even open his mouth, Clara shook her head. "It's not… it's not that, don't worry. I think I've just overworked myself."

Truthfully, Clara knew exactly why her head was starting to hurt. It had nothing to do with her legilimency, it had nothing to do with the hundreds of Hogwarts students eating and talking and thinking and feeling all around her… it was actually Cedric himself. The part of her mind that was so intertwined with his, the way she felt all of his emotions without even thinking twice about whose they were, was aching as his own nervousness pushed against her frayed senses.

"It's barely a week into school."

"Fourth-year is going to be a rough one, I can already tell."

Cedric nodded, his fork shoveling a chunk of roasted carrot into his mouth. "'Ave anythin' to do with Malfoy, maybe?" he asked casually, his words muffled from his chewing and barely comprehendible as he ate. "I heard about Herbology."

Clara blew out a breath and pushed her hair away from her face, shaking her head. "Who told you about that?"

"A blonde little birdie."

With a sigh so irritated and exhausted even Hermione would have been proud, Clara whipped around slowly to face Hannah, who merely grinned weakly at her and raised her arms questioningly. "I didn't know it was a secret!" she said quickly. "It just kind of came up in conversation."

"Well, it doesn't have anything to do with him, I'm just tired," Clara assured seriously, her fingers tapping against the wooden table. Cedric looked at her with an expression that was all-too knowing for her comfort, a look that would have made Clara shirk under his gaze if his cheeks weren't distended like a chipmunk. "Come off it," Cedric said teasingly. "I know you like the back of my hand. Something's bothering you."

"Can we… change the subject, maybe? Anyone else do anything interesting today? Anything at all?" Clara said distractedly, opening the conversation to the people around them as she desperately looked for an escape. Luckily, Susan Bones, one of Clara's roommates who rarely ever spoke unless spoken to, piped up uncharacteristically. "I… I'm thinking about joining Herbology Club," she stammered out painfully; the dreamy, melodic lilt of her Irish accent immediately caught Clara's attention.

"Really?!" Hannah said in disbelief, her eyes wide. Leanne Foxglove and Tilly Talpin, their other two roommates who often hung out with the girls in the year above were friendly enough, and Hannah and Clara were obviously bosom buddies. But for the last three years of living together, Susan had remained cautiously quiet in the background, her eyes always wide and watching even if she didn't utter a word.

"I… I mean, only if that… um… would that be… are you doing it again, this year?" Susan asked unsurely. Clara immediately launched her hand across the table as a wide grin broke out across her face. "Oh yes, Susan, that would be wonderful! You'd be a perfect fit, you're so good with the Moondew plants in the greenhouse. Maybe we can make our own butterbeer at the end of term."

Susan's cheeks bloomed bright pink and the slightest flicker of her otherwise tightly screwed mouth made Clara beam; the redhead toyed with the end of her auburn plaited braid nervously as her eyes flickered up to meet Clara's across from her. "Yeah," she replied in a forced-casual tone. "That'd be… that'd be great."

The good news was enough to make Clara's headache wane a bit, but just as she was about to continue the conversation, she felt a sharp pull on her hair and her head was wrenched backwards in a way that was becoming all-too familiar. Her smile immediately disappeared, and her mouth fell open in annoyance. "Merlin!" she scolded angrily, her hands flying up to her dark locks. "Ernie Macmillan, I swear-"

Ernie and Justin sat further down the table chuckling, the blonde-haired boy twirling his wand around nonchalantly as he gave her a beaming smile. "What?! It wasn't us!"

Clara narrowed her eyes and gave them the meanest scowl she could muster, sending both boys into a fit of laughter as she pouted. Justin stuck out his lower lip mockingly, rubbing playfully at his eyes as he feigned crying. "Aren't we a bit old to be pulling pigtails?" Hannah said exasperatedly, her voice filled with irritation as she glanced at them with a raised eyebrow.

"C'mon, don't be a craic killer," Ernie replied with a smile. Hannah rolled her eyes and patted at Clara's head comfortingly, both girls sending the boys dirty looks. "Gosh, you're both worse than a pair of mosquitoes," Hannah bit back.

"Hannah! Hanns. Don't be so angry, love, it was all in good fun."

"Anyway," Clara said with a huff, spinning around to face Cedric in an obvious show of defiance as she turned her back to the snickering buffoons on the other side of the table. "You should join Herbology Club, Ced. It's not as bad as it sounds, really, and you have a lot more time now that the Quidditch thingy's been canceled."

Cedric grinned at her. "The Interhouse Quidditch Cup, you mean? You know, just the thingy I've been playing in for the last six years or so."

"Oh, you know what I meant."

"Well, I may not have that much time after all. With the Triwizard Tournament, and all."

Clara grimaced, but schooled her features as she watched her brother avert his eyes nervously. "I know it's a long-shot… being chosen, I mean. But I still don't want to have any serious commitments if it happens, that's all," he assured quietly.

Suddenly, one of Cedric's Quidditch teammates Clara vaguely recognized to be Will Bucket, a good friend of her brother's with blonde hair that stuck straight up as if he'd been electrocuted and a slight gap between his teeth, popped up behind Cedric and slammed a heavy hand on his shoulder. "Long-shot! Yeah right, he's getting in that tournament, I know it!" he exclaimed cheerfully, his clasp shaking her poor brother as he tried his best to swat him away.

With a confused tilt of her head, she looked at Will confusedly. "It's picked randomly, Will… we have no idea who'll get picked."

Cedric turned red, and his lips pulled into something tight as he looked down at the floor. "Maybe we don't… but some of us are trying to… improve the odds, so to speak," Will charged on with a smirk and another shoulder slap.

"And how are you planning on doing that, exactly?"

Will looked positively mischievous as he leaned in, his lips curling in delight as if he was happy she'd asked. "Let's just say the pool of choices got a little smaller, at least on behalf of the eligible Hufflepuff boys."

Clara's eyes widened, and she immediately glared at her brother. "Cedric," she muttered in shock. "That's not fair!"

"I didn't ask them to do that, Clara… you know I'd never tell people not to put their name in. I want to get in on my own, you know that," he replied, sounding slightly hurt at the implication that he'd do something so self-serving.

Will came between the siblings, the devious expression on his face mustering into something more genuine as his eyes flickered from one Diggory to the other. "Look, it's not like we're… cheating, exactly. And plus, we're refusing to put our names in of our own free will. No one's been asked to do anything," he explained.

Clara found herself floundering; the idea that the pool of possible selected tournament players slimming and therefore raising her brother's chances felt like ice water running down her spine as she realized just how serious everyone was taking this damned competition. "But…but…!"

"Clara," Will said calmly. "Your brother… well, he's the best candidate this school's got, to be quite frank. And he deserves it, wouldn't you agree?"

"Yes, of course I agree, but- "

"So as his friends, as his teammates, we want to support our buddy, Clara. And that means we want him to get a fighting chance. It's not like we're actually helping him win, he's got to do that all on his own. We just want to help him get a shoe in the door. It's the Hufflepuff thing to do."

Clara averted Cedric's pleading eyes and nodded stiffly, her mouth screwed up in something that was probably meant to imitate a smile but looked more like a frown. Regardless, Will slapped his hand down on her shoulder roughly, seemingly convinced that his less-than reassuring explanation had changed her feelings of reluctance.

Something clawed at her, and slowly Clara felt the tingling sensation of being watched dance across her skin. Goosebumps shot down her arms, and gazing upwards, she looked straight ahead and made eye contact with a silvery blonde Slytherin.

Draco Malfoy was staring. He was staring at her.

Their eyes met, and for just a second, she felt like he was staring straight through her skin and right into her soul as he watched her. His face was stony but not cruel or unkind, just studying as if she was a particularly difficult arithmancy equation he didn't understand. It wasn't the first time Draco had looked at her like this, in fact, only three years ago on their very first day at Hogwarts, he had given her a similar look twice within just a few hours of each other.

But still, she squirmed in her seat as she broke eye contact. Somehow, she felt like she'd just been caught. In what, exactly, she didn't know.

Clara fidgeted in her seat; the chair next to her vacant as she sat in the Herbology classroom as Hannah sat behind her. Ernie and Justin were luckily sitting across the room far enough away where she didn't have to worry about anyone pulling her hair or kicking the legs of her chair.

Fifteen minutes early. As per usual. Nothing unordinary, not yet.

"I'm going to boke," Hannah whispered from the desk in back of hers, her foot tapping nervously against the floor. "Is it warm in here? D'you feel that, Clara?"

"Hannah, please, please calm yourself," Clara replied quickly, her voice short as she stared straight ahead. "If you can't, I'm going to have to change seats. I can't bear feeling your nerves on top of mine right now, not here."

Hannah had the sense to blush, knowing how sensitive Clara was to her closest friend's heightened emotions. "Sorry," she whispered. "I just… Promise me this isn't going to be terrible and this is all a very good idea?"

"I can't promise you that," Clara said as she turned around in her seat, extending her hand to clasp over Hannah's folded ones. "But I will promise you that regardless of what happens in class today, we can take a blanket outside and sit on the lawn and stuff our faces full of toffee while we have a great, big cry. Now that, I am absolutely sure of." Both girls exchanged grins, one smiling in reassurance while the other smiled in relief.

Speaking only slightly too soon, Clara heard the screech of a chair next to her.

She slowly turned around, her fingers grazing the tabletop as she tepidly gazed over at her partner, who was completely ignoring her presence as if she wasn't even there. Clara hadn't spoken to Draco since she ran into him in the Great Hall where she made a great fool of herself, turning red and stuttering and stammering over every word as the blonde looked at her stoically. He had been cold and callous, and he even openly referred to their partnership as a "predicament," a word that had wormed its way into her head every time she even thought about Herbology.

And while his words had been unkind and unfeeling, the emotions that rolled off of him had been anything but. Draco spoke harshly and delivered each sentiment with a sense of frustrated conviction, unwilling to treat her with any respect. But his emotions had floated from careful curiosity to something more painful, something not unlike hurt. It confused her greatly seeing as she had barely even spent enough time with him to have offended him, yet the boy clearly felt that she had wronged him in some way.

Curiously, when she stood before him and tried to open her mind to his and hear his thoughts, she had been met with a flurry of nonsensical thinking at a surprisingly loud volume. Don't want you feeling bad for me, he had thought so loudly it made Clara flinch. I'm not that terrible, I'm not as terrible as you think and I don't want you to think I'm terrible at all.

And then Draco's mind had shut a door right in her face, and the vulnerability of his thinking had gone completely silent. Clara had never experienced anything like that before.

She hadn't told anyone about the interaction. She wasn't sure what to make of it.

"Hi, Draco," Clara said warmly, trying to project confidence into the softness of her voice. Draco sat perfectly still and continued to face forward, forcing an awkward silence to commence between the Slytherin and the Hufflepuff. She restlessly rubbed her thumb across the inside of her palm in her opposite hand, her eyes flickering up from the table to the side of Draco's head as if he was a wild animal ready to strike.

A light tap poked Clara in the shoulder from behind, and she turned around again with questioning eyes. She figured Hannah would be in a catatonic state at this point, unable to further communicate her distress from the mere presence of Slytherins in the room, so she spun around quickly. Instead, she was met with Theodore Nott's wicked smile and piercing dark eyes, his chin propped up in his hand as he tilted his head to the side. "Hi, Diggory," he said casually, his voice slicker than oil as he lazily twirled his feather quill between his fingers. "Excited for Herbology, I presume?"

"Yes, I am," Clara replied, her eyes quickly scanning over to Hannah who watched the scene before her with wide eyes. "Are you?"

Theo mocked a pout and wrinkled his nose. "No, not really, if I'm being quite honest," he said with an exaggerated sigh, sounding playfully exhausted. Clara swallowed roughly. "I'm not too good at Herbology, you see. It's a Slytherin thing, I think, y'know?"

"Really?" she asked, her voice betraying her nerves as she became more and more uncertain as to where the conversation was leading. "I… I'm sure you're better than you think."

Theo had the gall to tilt his head cunningly, his brows drawn as if he was confused even though his eyes told her he was quite sure of himself. "Ugh, you 'Puffs," he said sweetly. "Always the flatterers, you are. But no, I'm actually quite terrible at it. I just don't have that… green thumb your house has, I suppose."

Clara could have easily told him a million reassurances, the same reassurances she gave to many a Gryffindor and Ravenclaw in years past about the plant-based course. "No one's a natural with Herbology," she'd tell them, her voice soft and her smile kind. "It's just like any other class, I promise. All it takes is some hard work and a little bit of love, and you'll get the results you want. The plants don't care about what you are, they care about what you do."

But instead her eyes flickered over to Hannah's once again, whose discomfort was palpable as her partner continued to confess his lack of talent for the subject. Clara could see the cogs turning in her friend's head; she'd probably have to do a great deal of each assignment on her own as Theo sat back and watched. "Well, you're in good hands!" she said instead, trying to sound cheerfully optimistic. "Hannah's quite good with Herbology, so I'm sure you'll both do a good job together."

Theo looked at her with an amused smile as Hannah's eyes flashed at her warningly, but Clara merely met her with a patient gaze as she refocused back on Theo. "And how about yourself, Diggory? Is my friend Draco over here in good hands?"

Clara flushed and sucked in a low breath, Theo's words full of implications she didn't quite understand. She glanced over at the blonde, who gave his friend a death stare so dangerous it made a shiver go down her spine. "Y-Yes," she assured, her eyes flickering between both boys. "I… I'd say I'm quite good, as well."

"You hear that, Draco? Diggory says you're in good hands."

Draco leaned forward, his teeth bared. "Shut up, Nott."

Hannah and Clara exchanged wary glances, but just as Draco turned around and Theo sat back in proud satisfaction, Professor Sprout walked into the classroom. "Oh, good! I'm glad most of you are here a little early. We'll be heading to the greenhouse in a few minutes to begin our first assignment."

"Terrific," Draco grumbled under his breath, only loud enough for Clara to hear. Her jaw ticked at his words, and she almost started to regret not taking Professor Sprout up on her offer to switch partners if they happened to have any… problems.

But then again, he hadn't exactly said or done anything problematic just yet. Making snippy comments was hardly enough of an offense to completely switch partners.

As the rest of her classmates slowly filed in, Clara found herself once again fidgeting in her seat nervously at the climbing tension between the Hufflepuffs and the Slytherins as they mournfully adjusted to their new partners. Professor Sprout pulled on her gardening gloves as she took attendance, her eyes surveying over her green and yellow-clad students. Clara made the mistake of looking over at Ernie and Justin, who looked equally miserable next to Blaise and Pansy. Justin caught her wandering gaze and sent her a weak imitation of a smile, which she tried her best to return.

As she looked in her friend's direction, Ernie's partner, Pansy Parkinson, turned to her with narrowed eyes. Clara's own eyes widened, and she immediately tried to give the girl a small smile. Pansy met her with a hard look, but her face was otherwise blank. Her mouth was set in a tight, thin line, and Clara hurriedly turned her head to face forward again.

"Bubotubers," Professor Sprout told them all, her gloved hands clasped together and her eyebrow raised as if she was expecting to hear complaints. "They need squeezing. You will collect the pus- "

"The what?!" Draco interrupted loudly, his face screwed up in disgust. Professor Sprout gave him a warning look, her nostrils flaring as she looked at the boy. "The pus, Mr. Malfoy. It's extremely valuable, so it is imperative that you don't waste a single drop. Now, this is a time- consuming process as some of the boils can be particularly hard to burst, however, you will have until next class to get it done. There are bottles in the greenhouse waiting for you to put the pus into for Madam Pomfrey, as it is an excellent herbal remedy. And you must, you absolutely must, wear your dragon-hide gloves. Bubotuber pus can do all sorts of funny things to the skin when undiluted."

An audible groan rushed from the mouths of several students both Hufflepuff and Slytherin alike, and Professor Sprout immediately cut the complaining off with a critical look. "Many of you are in luck," she said proudly. "Some of our students here already have experience working with Bubotubers. As I said, they can be quite difficult to work with but not at all impossible, which is why we work with them in fourth- year and not before. However, some of my dedicated students in Herbology Club, I'm sure, would be happy to give a helping hand to anyone that needs it." Professor Sprout looked over at Clara warmly, and the dark-haired girl shrunk in her seat as someone behind her attempted to cover up a laugh with a cough.

From her periphery, she saw Draco look at her with an annoyed expression, and her cheeks turned pink.

This was going to be a long, long, year.

While Clara herself was not the biggest fan of Bubotubers- they smelled like gasoline once they'd been popped and the green liquid that emanated from the swellings on each plant left a lot to be desired, there was no doubt it was slightly therapeutic.

If only her partner felt the same way.

"Bloody hell," Draco whined bitterly as he tried to look away from the Bubotuber and squeeze a swelling at the same time. He held onto the plant like he was trying to strangle it, his gloved hands holding it with a tight grip as if he was scared it would run away. "This is disgusting."

"It's… not that bad…?" Clara told him unsurely, watching her partner fail to burst the pus from the plant once again while he growled in frustration. "Here, you should probably- "

She reached out towards the Bubotuber but Draco quickly spun away from her, determined to do his portion himself and unwilling to accept any help from Clara, even though it was clear she had more experience. "Just…just stay over there!" Draco snapped, shaking his head. "Your bloody hair is getting all over me."

Clara's cheeks darkened and she looked at her hair- while it was shorter than it had been last year, it was still quite long, but she didn't understand what he was talking about. "What? What do you mean, my hair is all over you?"

She hadn't even stood that close to him, after all.

Draco waved his dragon-hide glove-covered hand around in the air in aggravation, his teeth clenched as he continued to keep his distance. "Your bloody hair," he bit out. "Can't you… I don't know, put it away, or something?"

"I… I didn't bring a hair tie."

"Merlin!" Draco exclaimed angrily. He lifted his wand from his pocket and aimed it right in Clara's face, making her eyes widen dramatically as she took a step back. Draco rolled his eyes and huffed in irritation. "Crinus Muto," he uttered. In seconds, Clara's hair yanked backwards and pulled itself into a tight braid down her back, and her hands quickly flew to her head as she felt the slight tingling sensation of the grooming charm. She looked at him with wide eyes, partially confused and partially flattered at his quick thinking.

"Don't you people learn grooming charms in your house? Probably not… actually that makes a lot of sense, thinking about it."

And the sense of flattery disappeared.

"I… thank you," Clara said carefully, her brain short-circuiting from the quick change of emotions. "I didn't even think of that."

"Yes, that was obvious."

"Well…thanks, anyway."

Clara looked over at Hannah, who actually looked surprisingly at ease as Theo held the bottle for her while she squeezed the pus inside of the glass. Hannah looked up at her and smiled, and not so discreetly, pointed at Theo and gave Clara a big thumbs-up. She grinned back at Hannah, happy that at least someone wasn't having a miserable time.

She also looked over at Ernie and Pansy and felt slightly comforted by the arguing pair. Pansy was sitting cross-legged on her stool, critiquing her partner as Ernie begrudgingly squeezed the pus from the plant all by himself.

At the very least, Draco insisted on doing his own share. Even if it was to the detriment of the assignment.

Draco let out another annoyed huff, and Clara stepped closer to him once again. "I… I can help you, you know. We're partners after all."

"If I want your help, I will ask you for it. Now please leave me alone so I can focus."

Clara had a hard time believing that.

Nevertheless, she returned to her work, moving at a much faster pace than Draco but still having a lot more to do. They resumed in silence.

"Alright class," Professor Sprout announced loudly, calling for everyone's attention. "We're going to have to finish for today, as you are due for your next class any minute now. As I said before, you have until next class to finish the assignment, so please coordinate with your partner accordingly so you can complete the rest of your pus-collection."

Draco slammed the Bubotuber back on the greenhouse table and ripped off his gloves dramatically, his face screwed up in frustration as he looked at how little he accomplished throughout the last two hours. He had barely done anything at all, and even though Clara had more work to do, she had made incredible strides in comparison to his weak attempts.

She turned to him cautiously, not sure of how to ask him how he wanted to proceed since everything she said and did seemed to annoy him. "So…would you…"

"I don't have any preferences, Diggory. We can return to this whenever you have time in your very busy schedule," he interrupted sarcastically, not meeting her eyes as he adjusted his robes. Clara bit back a comment and smiled weakly. "Would you… want to do this before dinner this evening?"

"I don't want to do this at all."

Clara could have stomped her foot in annoyance. Why did he insist on being so difficult?

"Okay… would you be able to do it before dinner, then?"

"Absolutely not. Doing this before I eat will completely kill my appetite."

"After, then. Does that sound good to you?"

Draco looked at her for a moment as Clara waited for a reply, and he let out a long, withstanding breath as he glanced up at the greenhouse ceiling. "Fine. Right after dinner. Please do not be late, this is already messing up my daily routine."

"Um…okay."

Without another word, a bell from the castle signaled the end of the class, and Draco took off. Clara sighed as she watched him leave, feeling at a loss as he practically flew out of the greenhouse. She let out a breath she didn't even realize she had been holding, and she felt someone bump her side.

"You alright?" Justin asked, his face unreadable as his eyes followed Draco and his swift escape from Herbology. Clara looked up at him and nodded, not trusting herself not to burst out and talk about how rude he was throughout the entirety of the lesson, grooming charm or not.

"Mhmm," she said in a falsely cheerful voice. Hannah came up and joined them, her smile wide and crooked as she glanced between them. "I can't believe I'm saying this," she said quietly as Theo waved goodbye to all of them, much to Clara's surprise. "But he actually isn't awful."

"Not yet, anyway," Justin said shortly. "Blaise didn't speak to me once."

"I don't think he's the talkative sort," Clara replied. "From what I can tell, anyway… he's always just kind of…"

"…there?"

"Yes."

The three of them walked out of the greenhouse, Ernie running slightly behind as he cleaned up their workstation all by himself since Pansy had long since disappeared from class. The Hufflepuffs had Transfiguration next, a welcome reprieve from their more-than stressful Herbology lesson. "Theo and I got most of our work done, thankfully," Hannah said happily, the anxiety that had once riddled her about the Slytherin had disappeared. "We had a lovely conversation, actually."

"Oh? What about?" Clara asked as Hannah hooked their arms together, the cold fall air making the blonde girl's cheeks ruddy. "Mostly, we talked about you."

"Me?!" Clara sputtered, shock overtaking any sense of curiosity. "Oh no, Hanns, what did you say?!"

"Nothing! Nothing bad, at least. Theo was just saying Malfoy was actually looking forward to working with you."

Clara didn't know Theo very well… she actually didn't know him at all, but it was clearly a lie and he didn't even need to be here for her to know that. "I don't think that's true."

"Well, that's what he said anyway. But overall, working with him wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be."

"Hmm," Clara responded lightly, her thoughts roaming. "I… I don't really know what to do about…about Draco. It… didn't go nearly as well as things went with you and Theo, quite honestly."

Justin's head whipped towards her, his eyebrows furrowed. "He's giving you trouble already?" he asked seriously. Clara shook her head. "No, not… not really. I just… I don't think he's that receptive to working with me."

"What an arse. He should be so lucky, you're a top student in Herbology," Justin grit out. "Who do these Slytherins think they are, anyway? What has a Hufflepuff ever done to one of them? We are constantly undermined, even though we aren't any different from any of the other houses, and just because we…"

Clara allowed Justin's voice to fade out of her thoughts, her own mind fixating over how she was supposed to work with Draco when Professor Sprout wasn't supervising. He'd surely be worse without anyone around, wouldn't he?

"Oh, I forgot to mention," Hannah piped up, her hand toying with the end of Clara's hair. "I don't remember you putting your hair in a braid today. It looks rather nice on you."

Clara couldn't help but groan.

A/N: Please leave a review and let me know what you think!