"Can you help me carry my books?" Margaret glanced hopefully at her Slytherin friend who was busying herself with combing her fingers through her own blonde curls.

"Aren't you better yet?" Evelyn grumbled and piled Margaret's books on top of her own in the towering stack that she was already carrying. She immediately dropped the accusation at the sight of a certain Slytherin prefect who was walking a few steps ahead of them towards Slughorn's classroom.

They followed him into the classroom and were met with the curious eyes of every student in the room. Evelyn froze. What were they all staring at? Her mind reeled back to the mysterious spell that had been cast on her from the other day. She whirled around to Margaret to see if anything reflected in her friend's eyes signaling that something was wrong that she herself could not see. That was when she realized that they weren't staring at her.

Margaret gazed fearfully back at the students that were currently making her feel like a bug in a bottle.

Evelyn glared at a Ravenclaw boy that was sitting close to the doorway, still gawking at her friend unabashedly, "Hey! If you really want something odd to stare at, you'll look in the mirror," she growled at him and he sneered back at her.

An awkward silence followed the two students to their seats near the back of the classroom. Some classmates possessing less tact turned around to get one last glance of "the petrified girl".

"Haven't you had a proper stare yet?" The offending students quickly snapped back around at Evelyn's vehement inquiry and Margaret appreciatively smiled at her friend's diversion.

"Everyone! Everyone settle down!" exclaimed Slughorn boisterously, as if anyone had been actually talking, "It is with great pleasure that we greet Miss Bourne back to Potions after her extended stay in the infirmary." The students seemed to be imitating stone statues as their eyes were glazed over from the early time of day, "Please take out your textbooks and join us at page two twenty-five."

A chorus of students who noisily flipped through the weathered pages of their books quietly swept across the classroom as Evelyn and Margaret pulled out their own. Evelyn lazily rolled her eyes across the pictures of Dr. Ubbly and his famous "Oblivious Unction" potion. She threw her chin into her hands, framing her jaw with a V shape and rested her elbows on the table top as she began reading.

Euphoria: An Elixir to Induce

Ingredients include:

Sprig of Peppermint

Chopped daisy roots

Egg of Doxy

This famous Elixir was first conceived by the notable Potions Inventor, Sacharissa Tugwood, who at the time, was well known for her beautifying potions. The Euphoria Elixir was invented in 1914 during the muggle's "Great War" as a way to help lift and keep the Wizarding population's spirits up during this tumultuous time in European history. Her gravestone reads, "Thanks to Sacharissa Tugwood, the world is a more beautiful place," five years after, an amendment was made with the addition of "and a happier one."

At the completion of this sentence Evelyn's brown eyes had almost closed completely when she felt a jolt shoot up her spine. She almost jumped in response and quietly surveyed the room to see if anyone had witnessed it, though everyone seemed oblivious as they still had their heads buried in their textbooks just as she had done moments before.

"That was…strange," she whispered to herself quietly, wondering what had just happened.

"Hm?" her friend piped up at the whisper that she wasn't supposed to hear.

"Oh…it's nothing," Evelyn answered nonchalantly and turned to the next page, "I just felt some sort of…pain in my back."

"Are you okay?" she whispered, looking sincerely alarmed.

"Yeah, I'm fine. It was nothing," Evelyn quickly waved it away and Margaret returned to her reading material.

'It was nothing,' she repeated to herself and continued her own reading as well.

The effect of this Elixir induces euphoria in the drinker, with occasional side effects of excessive singing and nose-tweaking (the peppermint would tend to counterbalance that effect.) When correctly made—

Evelyn sharply inhaled at the feeling intruding upon her again. What she had first diagnosed as pain began to form into something else. Tightly squeezing her legs together, she tried to ignore the fluttering in her stomach and the quivering between her legs. Gasping, she quickly cupped her mouth and tried to pass it off as a coughing fit in a desperate attempt to hide the shock of pleasure that she felt in her breasts, as if they were being fondled by an unseen hand. She crossed her hands over her chest, as if to block the indulgent source.

When correctly made the potion assumes a sunshine-yellow c-c-color—

She could no longer ignore the pounding gratification between her wet lips of her inner flesh and slid her own hand under her skirt to feel the saturated state of her underwear.

'What's happening?' she looked around frantically, as if hoping the answer would jump out in front of her—and it did. While the other students quietly read their books, Tom Riddle sat back in his chair, as if enjoying the view. Her eyes grew wide and her bottom lip slightly fell as they were the only two people in the room. Her nipples became hard pebbles under the unrelenting pleasure being inflicted upon them and she quietly moaned, once again coughing it away.

Evelyn caught Slughorn eyeing her from his desk and she turned around pretending to read her textbook once again. The scraping of her chair legs across the floor rang out as she involuntarily pushed herself harshly into the back at the feeling of something hard between her legs of which she was certain was not actually there.

Evelyn hung her head as she sprang out of her chair and excused herself from the classroom. She could hear the protests of Slughorn being hurled at her back but didn't even look over her shoulder as she practically ran out into the corridor.

Slamming the door shut to the bathroom stall, her harsh breathing and her heartbeat she swore was audible, was masked by the atrocious whimpering of Myrtle.

'Merlin's beard! Doesn't that awful girl ever shut up?' There she was, with a crisis on her hands and she could barely think for the sound of Myrtle's crying.

"Isn't your crying abode in the second floor bathroom?" Myrtle's morbid episodes were that famous.

Myrtle sniffled and cleared her throat, answering in a shriveled voice, "Y-yes, but I have a class on the ground floor right now…and this one was closer."

"You know Hogwart's bathrooms that well?" Evelyn leaned against the stall wall and spoke through it.

"Wouldn't you if you had someone taunting and teasing you every single second of every day?"

'How dramatic,' she snorted.

"No," Evelyn matter of factly answered, "If I had someone treating me like that—I'd slap that bitch."

"E-easy for you to say."

"That's true," Myrtle had a point and Evelyn had to give it to her, "Who is this anyway?"

"Ol-Olive Hornby," she blew her nose in an obnoxiously loud manner that made Evelyn wince.

"Figures…look, she's just an evil prat that parades around her daddy's money and uses it to lord over people. So just forget about her. She's nothing."

"I know…you're right, but I just get so mad whenever she makes fun of my glasses or my hair…"

"Who says she's so pretty?"

"Everyone," Myrtle answered simply.

"Not everyone. I'm sure there's loads of guys who don't think anything of her—

"Actually you're right," she interrupted, sounding a little smug.

"Of course I am—

"She's been trying to get the attention of Tom Riddle for months and he won't even give her a second glance—

"Wait—what?" Evelyn immediately perked up.

"Tom Riddle. You know, Slytherin Prefect, smartest—

"Yes, I know of him," Evelyn was caught between a growl and a moan at the thought of Tom.

"Anyway," Myrtle seemed to be delighted to tell of what little gossip she knew as Evelyn imagined with the poor girl's short list of friends, (including the toilet and the sink) allowed her to rarely engage in it, "from what I hear her saying to her friends, she's completely determined to do something about that Westwood girl in her house—

"You mean Evelyn?" speaking in third person felt strange as it was necessary to gain as much information as possible. It was even more curious that the girl would tell gossip to someone on the other side of a bathroom stall whom she couldn't even see.

"Yes, I think that's her name. I didn't know her first name, I've only seen her a few times in the hallways—she's rather snobby looking—

"Snobby?" Evelyn choked at the description.

"Y-Yes—you don't think so?" Myrtle asked in a fearful voice, afraid that she was speaking to one of Evelyn's friends.

"I mean—sure, I'm sure she looks that way, but she's probably really a nice girl who was just born with the wrong face," she quickly tried to recover.

"Maybe…anyway, I don't know what's going on between Olive and the Westwood girl but I think the link between the two is Riddle. I think she's really jealous of the attention that he gives the other girl. I don't think she's that pretty anyway—

"You mean Olive?" Evelyn's voice hitched hopefully.

"No, the other girl."

She huffed and quietly consoled herself by picturing how unattractive Myrtle was by comparison, "Well anyway, it was nice talking to you," she decided to end the conversation before Myrtle could insult her any further.

"Oh, no, the pleasure's mine!" she piped up happily.

"I'm sure," she grumbled under her breath.

"Wait!" Myrtle couldn't hide the desperate tone in her voice, "You didn't tell me your name!" she cried from the next door bathroom stall.

"It's Edith…Edith Snellgrove."

A/N: Just wanted to thank everyone for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! Though I'm sure I'm going to get a few complaints about the small role Tom had in this chapter, I swear he'll be back to all of his evil glory in the next chapter. Please review.