Chapter 1
"I started looking and the bubble burst, I started looking for excuses."
-Coldplay, 'Warning Sign'
John Watson had always hated Sherlock Holmes. But then again, people change.
It was a cloudy, overcast kind of day; the late November snow had not yet had time to melt, and lay on the ground in big, ugly clumps. John pulled his black and yellow scarf around his nose and slowly made his way up to Hogwarts castle. He had just finished a Care of Magical Creatures lesson and managed to escape with his eyebrows still intact. He hoped that they would stay that way in potions next period.
Professor Rexili had told the class that they would be receiving their potions partners for the remainder of the year today; since last time Jim had thought it would be funny to cast a charm on his partner that caused a series of explosions that resulted in the entire class taking an uncomfortable trip to Madam Pomfrey's. John felt sorry for Mike having to put up with Jim as his partner and he wished he could stay partners with Molly instead of having everything switched up on him almost half way through the year. He felt bad thinking it but better Mike than me right?
"Hey," Someone called from behind him. John turned and was greeted with a very flustered and windswept Molly. "I've been screaming at you to wait up." She said between gasps of air, stopping for a moment with her hands on her knees to catch her breath.
John had known Molly since they were kids. His older sister Harry would babysit them when their father went on business trips and Molly's mother was working. John often referred to her as "his other sister" and people often mistook them for siblings; they both had light, thin hair and dark, round eyes.
"Sorry Molly," John responded, turning and continuing his trek to the castle, with Molly close behind. "Just distracted, I suppose. I was just wondering who my potions partner will be. Who do you think you'll get?"
"I hope I get Sherlock Holmes," Molly chirped. "but I won't get that lucky. I'll probably be stuck with some stupid Slytherin, like Sebastian or Jim."
John turned to Molly, disgusted; as they made their way down the stairs to the dungeons, the constant buzz of other students conversations fluttering around them. "Why would you want Sherlock Holmes? He may be a Ravenclaw but he's arrogant, self-centered, lazy; I'm not even going to mention the ego and-"
"Yeah yeah, I get it. But he is handsome. Just look at his eyes! Have you even seen his eyes?" Molly took the seat next to John just as Professor Rexili sauntered into the classroom. "Alright class, so as you know I will be assigning new partners today after the...incident last class." From around the class a few snickers could be heard. "Let's get started so we can get to the good stuff."
"Greg Lestrade you will be with... Mike Stanford." John watched as the disheveled keeper for the Gryffindor team reluctantly took his seat next to the quiet Hufflepuff. "Molly Hooper you will be with... Sebastian Moran." John's heart sank. There goes my chances for a good year. He thought. "Told you." Molly whispered as she gritted her teeth, collected her things, and got up.
Professor Rexili went down the list until he got to the W's and there were only two students left. John stared at his parchment, silently willing his partner to be someone different. "John Watson you will be with Sherlock Holmes. Any questions? No? Then let's get started class. Page 394."
John bit back a scowl as he nodded at his teacher and glanced over to find Sherlock already taking the spot where Molly had been moments before. There were too many reasons why John thought Sherlock Holmes was a waste of oxygen. The main reason was how Sherlock had always stood by as Jim tortured John, choosing not to do anything instead of helping. Sherlock wasn't really a man of action and preferred to use his intellect and words as weapon but when he said anything it hurt twice as bad as a punch in the face. Sherlock just had the kind of personality that got under John's skin. It seemed like Sherlock would rather be anywhere than where he was a any given moment. The bored stare could be seen at anytime and drove John mad. He played with people. Ask Sherlock in the great hall who had been fooling around the night before and he could look around and give you a list of names and details of how he could tell. John though his cocky attitude was the result of him trying too hard and John often found himself asking, "Why can't he be true to himself?" Sherlock was just one of those people that John couldn't get a good read on and it infuriated him.
"Look, um..." His voice floated low and thick through the air; reaching John's ears, who suppressed a shudder.
"John Watson."
"Right. Look John," Sherlock whispered as Professor Rexili talked about the use of various animal bones in potions. "Sorry you couldn't be partners with your girlfriend but I hope you can find the self control in your tiny brain to make the best of it?"
"Molly?" John glanced over at Sherlock only to see his eyes staring back. Molly was right, he had unbelievable eyes. As John talked he noticed light golden flecks speckled across the cerulean blue of his eyes just like black curls that fell messily across his forehead. John thought he could get used to being lost in them before he completely wiped the thought from his mind. "Molly is NOT my girlfriend. I don't even have a girlfriend." John quipped indignantly.
"Boyfriend, then?" He remarked with out he even looking up, "Which is fine by the way-"
"No." John wanted to end this conversation quickly, " I know it's fine and besides you haven't had a girlfriend since you came to this school so how would you know what a real relationship looks like anyway?" John turned his attention back to his parchment and tried to focus on what the professor was saying but he could feel those blue-gold eyes burning holes into the side of his head.
"So obvious." Sherlock finally sighed and returned his disinterested stare back to the ceiling.
"With your partners, I would like you to compose a list of ingredients needed in creating a successful love potion without using your books. Begin."
Several groans could be heard across the classroom.
Sherlock turned to John reluctantly, forcing himself to engage. "Let's get started shall we? Should I assume that you have no idea what ingredients to use?"
"And should I assume you do?" John shot back, allowing his eyes to flick over his partner for a brief second. John fidgeted in his chair, wanting to escape the judgment of the eyes that held galaxies inside them. Sherlock turned away from him; steepling his hands under his chin, deep in a thought that was obviously not about potions class.
"So I'll be doing the work this year. Great." John muttered to himself; wracking his brain for the first ingredient. He hadn't the faintest idea of anything used to make a love potion.
Sherlock sighed, rolling his eyes. " Dried mandrake, cranberry extract, caddy vine leaves, bone of a thestral; are you gonna write this down or are you gonna stare at me like a idiot?" Sherlock paused and John glared at him before scribbling down what he had listed off so far. "Good boy, potions is a team sport, and you've got to play by my rules. Where was I? Oh right, bone of a thestral, scale of a mermaid, lavender oil..."
John knitted his eyebrows together and gritted his teeth; trying his hardest not to punch Sherlock in the face right then and there.
John finished scribbling down the ingredients, under the scrutinizing eyes (again with the eyes) of Sherlock Holmes.
"Oh no! that will never do. You do know we're turning this in right? I can barely even read it." Sherlock's voice became higher with incredulousness as he began writing the ingredients in his own sloping script, with a large golden hawk quill.
John was about to say, "Why don't you do it yourself then?" but seeing as he already was, John devoted himself to calming the rage boiling up inside of him.
"Why do you even care anyway?" John asked as soon as he had gained his composure. "I thought you were too clever for all your classes?"
"I am." Sherlock took a moment to examine John before continuing. "How clever would I look if I failed all my assignments?" He retorted. Smirking before continuing to write.