More fic! Such as it is.
Jan. 27th, 2009 07:27 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nursedarryTitle: Green (4/6)
Fandom/Pairing: HP-h/d
Rating: G
Word count: ~700
Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters. If I did, I would probably be doing something else right now.
Thanks to The Divine![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
delphpsmith for the beta.
Okay, no smut yet- that's next, PROMISE!- I'm actually writing it as we speak, along with the next HSU and trying like frak not to mix them up! LOL!
This is the next in a series of drabbles:
Coffee
Tingly sequel to Coffee
Flight Club sequel to Tingly
Harry’s POV
~*~
I dread Potions. Even if the Gryffindors had the class with Hufflepuffs and Sirius were teaching it, I think I’d still dread it. I’m just no good at it. I’m not the worst student in the class, but I’m still rubbish. Hermione says I don’t have a flair for potions. On top of that, my friends and I get bullied for the entire lesson. That’s because we don’t have the class with Hufflepuffs and Sirius isn’t teaching it.
I think Neville and I are responsible for losing Gryffindor more points in this class than any other students in the House. Then again, I also redeem myself by scoring points for the House whenever I play Quidditch.
I wish I were playing Quidditch right now. Instead I’m chopping up ginger root for this blasted potion which has no hope of working. Like in most every activity in my life it seems, I have an audience. Snape is never far from view and that git Malfoy keeps glancing up at me from the table just beyond mine. Why does he keep looking over? Has he jinxed my cauldron? Has he hexed the ingredients? He needn’t have bothered- the whole thing is going to go wrong anyway. Soon I’ll be hearing how many points I’ve managed to lose Gryffindor this time.
God, the potion already smells bad and I’ve only put in three things. Ron, standing next to me, doesn't seem any happier. This is supposed to be a remedy for the common cold, but I’m sceptical. I’ve always been told there is no such thing. Its ingredients are innocuous enough that Snape trusts us with them, but I have my doubts. I don’t think anything is that innocuous as far as Neville is concerned. He’s blown up almost as many cauldrons as I’ve lost points for Gryffindor.
As if on cue, there is shout and a loud "pop" nearby. I look over to see Neville holding up the metal spoon with which he had been stirring his potion. Or it would have been a spoon had the bowl of it still been attached. Snape angrily glides over to Neville and the patronising stream of abuse begins.
I try to ignore it. Poor Neville doesn’t need everyone in the class staring at him and no doubt it’ll be me next. I hesitantly add my chopped ginger and start stirring anti-clockwise as instructed, looking down at the thin roiling liquid.
Suddenly a small cloud of steam rises from the cauldron and into my face. I choke on the gingery fumes and wave my hand around in order to clear them. Soon I’m breathing more easily and I wonder with that impending sense of dread what’s happened this time.
Something on my face is starting to hurt. I tentatively reach up. There’s a burning sensation coming from my eyes. No, it isn’t my eyes; it’s on my cheeks and along my eyebrows. It’s my glasses. They’re hot. And getting hotter. I yank them off and they clatter to the table next to my bubbling cauldron. I rub the skin of my cheeks. It feels okay now, no longer hot. My eyes are dry and I blink several times, gazing around short-sightedly.
Everyone’s still looking over at Neville as Snape continues to cast aspersions upon his parentage, House, and his complete lack of ability to finish a single assignment. That is, everyone’s still looking apart from Malfoy. Although his features are blurry, I can see the blond head is facing this way.
He’s staring at me.
I reach down for my glasses. They are cool now and I cautiously replace them on my face. I look back at the Slytherin, but he has turned away and is watching Snape stalk over to Dean.
I look down at my cauldron wondering what terrible thing will happen next. But nothing does. I finish the potion. Snape inspects it in silence, then ignores me completely. I consider this to be a good result. I leave the class happier than I ever have before.
TBC
Sequel is Taking the Blame
Fandom/Pairing: HP-h/d
Rating: G
Word count: ~700
Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters. If I did, I would probably be doing something else right now.
Thanks to The Divine
delphpsmith for the beta.Okay, no smut yet- that's next, PROMISE!- I'm actually writing it as we speak, along with the next HSU and trying like frak not to mix them up! LOL!
This is the next in a series of drabbles:
Coffee
Tingly sequel to Coffee
Flight Club sequel to Tingly
Harry’s POV
~*~
I dread Potions. Even if the Gryffindors had the class with Hufflepuffs and Sirius were teaching it, I think I’d still dread it. I’m just no good at it. I’m not the worst student in the class, but I’m still rubbish. Hermione says I don’t have a flair for potions. On top of that, my friends and I get bullied for the entire lesson. That’s because we don’t have the class with Hufflepuffs and Sirius isn’t teaching it.
I think Neville and I are responsible for losing Gryffindor more points in this class than any other students in the House. Then again, I also redeem myself by scoring points for the House whenever I play Quidditch.
I wish I were playing Quidditch right now. Instead I’m chopping up ginger root for this blasted potion which has no hope of working. Like in most every activity in my life it seems, I have an audience. Snape is never far from view and that git Malfoy keeps glancing up at me from the table just beyond mine. Why does he keep looking over? Has he jinxed my cauldron? Has he hexed the ingredients? He needn’t have bothered- the whole thing is going to go wrong anyway. Soon I’ll be hearing how many points I’ve managed to lose Gryffindor this time.
God, the potion already smells bad and I’ve only put in three things. Ron, standing next to me, doesn't seem any happier. This is supposed to be a remedy for the common cold, but I’m sceptical. I’ve always been told there is no such thing. Its ingredients are innocuous enough that Snape trusts us with them, but I have my doubts. I don’t think anything is that innocuous as far as Neville is concerned. He’s blown up almost as many cauldrons as I’ve lost points for Gryffindor.
As if on cue, there is shout and a loud "pop" nearby. I look over to see Neville holding up the metal spoon with which he had been stirring his potion. Or it would have been a spoon had the bowl of it still been attached. Snape angrily glides over to Neville and the patronising stream of abuse begins.
I try to ignore it. Poor Neville doesn’t need everyone in the class staring at him and no doubt it’ll be me next. I hesitantly add my chopped ginger and start stirring anti-clockwise as instructed, looking down at the thin roiling liquid.
Suddenly a small cloud of steam rises from the cauldron and into my face. I choke on the gingery fumes and wave my hand around in order to clear them. Soon I’m breathing more easily and I wonder with that impending sense of dread what’s happened this time.
Something on my face is starting to hurt. I tentatively reach up. There’s a burning sensation coming from my eyes. No, it isn’t my eyes; it’s on my cheeks and along my eyebrows. It’s my glasses. They’re hot. And getting hotter. I yank them off and they clatter to the table next to my bubbling cauldron. I rub the skin of my cheeks. It feels okay now, no longer hot. My eyes are dry and I blink several times, gazing around short-sightedly.
Everyone’s still looking over at Neville as Snape continues to cast aspersions upon his parentage, House, and his complete lack of ability to finish a single assignment. That is, everyone’s still looking apart from Malfoy. Although his features are blurry, I can see the blond head is facing this way.
He’s staring at me.
I reach down for my glasses. They are cool now and I cautiously replace them on my face. I look back at the Slytherin, but he has turned away and is watching Snape stalk over to Dean.
I look down at my cauldron wondering what terrible thing will happen next. But nothing does. I finish the potion. Snape inspects it in silence, then ignores me completely. I consider this to be a good result. I leave the class happier than I ever have before.
TBC
Sequel is Taking the Blame
