Never have I written a whole Harry Potter story, but I thought I'd have a crack at it. I hope I do this story justice. It's an amazing series, and I recommended both the stories and the movies. Srsly. JK Rowling is the epitome of badassery, and I bow to her writing skills. That is all.
This story takes place after the war.
Evie POV
"Why is Snape even allowed to teach here?" the tall red-head - Ronald Weasley, remember that! - sneered, as he waited outside of the dungeon classroom with his friends. I saw Harry smirk out of my peripherals, an empty, forced motion that seemed to physically hurt him to so, and he commented, dryly, "You're not even in this class, Ron."
That jolted something in the bright-haired boy, and he scampered off in the opposite direction, up the flight of stairs, and towards whatever lesson he is in now. Hermione and Harry stood, side-by-side, immersed in a group of Gryffindors and Ravenclaws, and I stepped closer to Draco, who's hand rested on my waistline, leisurely, rocking from one foot to the other, clearly nervous.
"Stop!" he exclaimed, in a hushed tone, he grasped my elbows, and pulled me close, so our knees bumped together, and he pressed a heated kiss to my temple, and said, "You're going to be fine, love. Stop worrying, you are going to wear a hole in the floor if you don't stop pacing. You're making me dizzy."
Giving him an acerbic, withering glare, to which he brushed off by kissing my jaw line, successfully distracting me, if only for a moment, and nuzzled his nose further into the dip of my neck, lovingly. I was aware of the fleeting looks that we were on the receiving end of due to our improper behaviour, yet, for some reason, I well and truly didn't care about them. They could literally kiss my ass, because he was Draco, and so warm, and so strong. I felt his hands slowly shuffle down the length of my body, leaving a path of heat and tingling skin, and settled on the curve of my ass, squeezing and touching, so tightly, and the only reason why we separated was because Pansy coughed, pointedly, and said, "You have an audience."
Needless to say, I blushed, darker than the centre of a cherry, and he chuckled into my neck, the sound gruff, deep and seemingly nonchalant. He didn't care that people were watching, it made him all hot and bothered, if the heavy, throbbing hardness that I could feel pressing against me, but this was private. This warm bubble that we were trapped in was just for us; my body was for their eyes, and theirs for mine.
As soon as the clock chimed 10am, all of the doors in the castle open of their own accord, meaning if a teacher was late, which was something of a usual occurrence here, apparently, the students wouldn't be waiting outside, causing anarchy in the corridors, and disrupting other lessons around them. We shuffled into the classroom; the first thing I noticed was that it was absolutely freezing. Probably colder than the corridor leading to our dorm, and I fisted my fingers and pushed them into my deep pockets, hoping that it would quickly warm my hands. Blaise came up beside me and wrapped his arms around my midsection, with a small grin on his face, and I relaxed into his arms. Everyone went about picking their seats - again, the divide between my House and the rest of the school was as stark as white on black.
"Love, come here," Blaise said as he tugged me off to the far right hand side of the classroom, with the other seventh year Slytherins, who jeered at us, playfully, but as soon as Draco's stare became cold and hard, they shut up, real quick. Jesus, my boyfriend was perfect. Blaise slid in on my left hand side, reclining on the dungeon wall, settling all of his books and quills out in front of him, and I followed his actions, as best as I was able, my feet hanging off of the stool, embarrassingly. Reason #4689 why I hate my new height; I was always too short to reach anything, and my feet hung off of everything. It was a fucking travesty, it really was.
The door swept open, effectively halting any and all conversation occurring between the students inside of the classroom. I felt my tongue curl inside of my mouth, and the hair on the back of my neck stand on end in response to the cold aura that flounced through the classroom. The almost transparent ghoulish figure of a dark-haired, pale, tall man appeared at the front of the class, standing in front of the blackboard, a black cape drawn over his shoulders, flouncing in the nonexistent wind of the dungeon classroom. His eyes were dark and swirled with a profound knowledge, and when they settled on me, they filled with a strange emotion that I couldn't place or describe, before it faded away into nothing but generalised biting sarcasm.
His dreary, uninterested voice stated, mordantly, "Seventh years. This is a potions class, not a mothers meeting, and I will not stand for any insolence within these four walls. This is an Art, and will be treated as such. Any and all students who mistreat this subject will find themselves with a T in their OWLs," and with an acerbic sweep of the classroom, dark, intelligent eyes glinting dangerously, "So.. Now that we've gotten this wonderful discussion over and done with, class is now in session."
Draco craned his neck, slightly, his hair falling into his eyes, briefly, and whispered, "This is why he's my favourite professor. Look at the respect he commands, even in death."
And it was true.
A quick glance around the classroom told me more than a thousand words could; he demanded respect, and he got it, willingly. Years upon years of crafting a namesake for himself in his Art presented such reverence, and therefore there was no reason why anyone could defy him in his field of study. Snape settled at the head of the classroom, and said, dispassionately, "Today, we will be generating a Girding Potion," and a resounding groan emitted from the class. And I knew why. Girding Potions stunk to high hell, and that's on its best day.
Blaise winced at his thoughts, which were probably on par with my own, and I felt myself sigh, internally, of course, before raising my eyes to settle back on Professor Snape, who was smirking.
He was enjoying this!
He stated, all traces of humour disappearing with a caustic sweep of the room, "Gather the appropriate supplies, you have two hours."
Blaise ran his hand over his face in displeasure, and I nudged my chair back.
"Wait.. Where are you going?," Draco asked, his brows furrowing in perplexity. I answered, truly confused at the sudden tense atmosphere that encompassed the three of us, "I'm.. going to get the materials?"
Blaise cut in, quickly, "No.. I'll get them."
Grabbing the cuff of his right hand, I asked, with a frown, "Why am I feeling like I'm being sidelined right now?"
Blaise blinked, vacantly, and said, "Its my job to make you.. Happy. Isn't this what I'm supposed to do?"
Breathing out a smile, I answered, as truthfully as I could in that setting, "No.. I mean.. I guess, the thought is nice but.. I don't want to be treated like a doll. I'm not made of glass. I can do things for myself, Blaise.. Please, let me just.. Be me?"
I couldn't give specifics - not in such an open place. Anyone could overhear, and that just wasn't safe, but I wanted to be honest with him, with both of them, in everything that I did.
"Okay.." he paused, mulling over his thoughts, "Do you want to come up with me and get the supplies?"
This I could work with.
With a grin, I replied, "Yes. Thanks," releasing Draco's hand, after giving it a tight, loving squeeze. Once we arrived at the creaking supplies cabinet, Blaise quizzed, "You remember what is needed in a Girding Potion?"
Scoffing, slightly, I replied, "Yep. Dragon thoraxes, fairy wings, flying seahorses and.." I bit my lip, "Doxy eggs?"
I counted off each of the supplies off on my fingers, stirring a proud grin from Blaise, who simply nodded, once, and collected the necessary ingredients, handing me a few to make me feel included. I liked that we could work together - even if it was only on something small. I knew I was more than capable when it comes to Potions; I had found an awesome teacher in Draco, but there was still much I needed to learn, and hopefully, if I wanted to score well in my OWLs, I would have to knuckle down and do my best. As it was an individual class, we weren't allowed to work together on a potion, therefore Blaise and I brought back enough supplies for the three of us. Setting the cauldron on the miniature furnace, I poured in one and a half ounces of salt water, leaving it to boil for a few minutes before going about my potion, watching an awed fascination as the liquid turned from one colour to the next, until it finished as a molten golden fluid. I spooned it into two small containers, corking the top, and taking it to the front of the class - reclining them in the designated slots, and skipped back to my seat.
Draco had already finished, nearly twenty minutes before I had, Blaise fifteen minutes after that, and they were simply watching me do my own potion. Sure, I made a few mistakes, and my product wasn't as vibrant as Blaise's, and it smelt far worse than Draco's, but, nonetheless, I was proud of myself.
"You did great, love," he congratulated, with a proud smile on his face, his hand curling around my much smaller one, and a kiss pressed at my temple that made my stomach curl in anticipation. I felt a shuddering chill set in my bones, and as I turned around, I saw the mordant stare of Severus Snape glowering at us, clearly unimpressed.
"Miss Kendall," he drawled, his tone blank, "Please save your obvious affection for Mr Malfoy for when you are alone."
Blushing, brightly, I tucked my face into Draco's shoulder, feeling the stares tickle and scratch at my form, and I felt humiliation encase my heart.
"Sorry, Sir," Draco grinned, "Its my fault. I cant help it, sometimes."
My embarrassment only served to treble then, and Blaise laughed, reservedly, from my side, his hand rubbing at my sides, soothingly, and Severus sneered, but there was no malice in it. It was similar to muted warmth, and his dark eyes sparked with tenderness.
"Be sure that you do, Mr Malfoy," and swept back to the front of the class, observing the quality of the potions that were brought to him. His expression was tight - he showed no emotion whatsoever while he observed the potions, and I felt like the entire class was waiting in bated breath for his response.
"Mediocre, at best."
Of course it was.
-0-
"Defence Against the Dark Arts is, in my opinion, mandatory for survival in the Wizarding World," a tall, scarred man said, into the tip of his wand, his voice echoing through the large, wide spaced Duelling Hall, where the combating class was taking place. "It's important for us to know how to defend ourselves against enemies. Especially in lieu of recent events," he paused, momentarily, "Either way, this DADA lesson consists of a duel between you students. Two at a time, you will all be going head to head. Let me be clear, the only spells to be used in here will be disarming and Fourth Year attack spells. Anything that results in serious harm will be dealt with thoroughly."
"Alright.." he said as he hopped off of the pedestal, and said, "You two," he pointed at two male Hufflepuffs, "Up," and they did.
Tall, broad, strong angular jaws and full to bursting of testosterone, they began at his command, and it was fascinating to watch. One of them was clearly better than the other, though, his magic was like a vice against the others, who was a little obtuse and brute-headed, fighting fire with fire, and not with his smarts, and he tried his best, but.. It wasn't enough, and after only four powerful swings of carefully aimed spells, he was out for the count. Applause ricocheted through the hall, and I joined in, lightly, of course, and watched on as the rest of the class went up, fought, some lost, some won, some drew as equals, and returned to their seats.
"Evelyn," he said, causing my head to shoot up, in surprise, "Hermione. Up."
Nervously, I stood, a little shakily, and walked up onto the podium, facing the pretty, preppy brunette, with a diminutive, respectful smile on my face, to which she returned.
"Begin."
My expression hardened, the area around me faded out into nothingness, and it was all about me and her. She was my moving target, and I would beat her. She had a cross in between her eyes, and I would strike it. I would beat her, because my mates were watching, because I wanted to leave my mark, I wanted to prove myself worthy of being at this school.
"Stupefy!," she yelled, her wand pointing in my direction, the sharp white light flying towards me, to which I shielded myself from, automatically, with an automatic yell of "Protego!"
Smirking to myself, I shouted, "Incarcerous," followed immediately by, "Carpe Retractum," sending her shuttling towards me, her eyes wide and her wand incapacitated at her side, and, with my mind, I wished away the ropes that bound her, and exclaimed, "Stupefy!"
And it was done. I barely had to move, and I didn't even have to break a sweat.
Hermione lay on her back, her eyes open and her nerves shot, but no worse for wear. It would take her a second, but she would recover. Ronald Weasley ran to her side, helping her stand, and after sending me a scathing glare, he returned her to her seat. Draco welcomed me with a proud grin, and I found that Blaise's eyes were darker than usual.
"You did brilliantly, love," Draco praised, and I blushed in response.
"Thanks."
Blaise nodded, in agreement, and said, huskily, "You're beautiful when you spar."
Quirking a brow, slightly, I settled closer to him, my back pressed against his chest, his hand resting on my waist, lazily, my own playing with his fingers, absentmindedly, and I snuggled further into his embrace.