Perfectly Wrong (A Hp fanfiction)

Instructions

“Grab a partner and turn to page four everyone. The recipe for Drought of Love is there. Follow the instructions carefully, this will be going in your owls.” Snape, the Hogwarts potion teacher drawls lazily. I quickly look around, weighing my options. There’s that one kid from Slytherin, named… Maer? Mier? Miller? I have no clue. Even if I wanted him as a teammate, which I don’t, he’s already paired up with his g1rlfr13nd. Most of the Slytherins are already in teams. That leaves the Hufflepuffs. Um, ew? They pair up fast too, and soon there are only two people left. Me, and the Diggory kid. No no no no no. I hear him approach from behind and I stiffen like a frightened animal. Why can’t I just work alone? I’ve survived so far. I act instinctively, scooting the chair next to me away from Cedric. Big mistake. The loud screeching noise has everybody in the room’s eyes on me. Including professor Snape’s beady black ones. I inwardly squirm but keep my resting face on. Cool, bored, unaffected. “Is there a problem Mrs. Greengrass?” Snape asks, just as cool. “No sir.” I respond innocently. “Then please give Mr. Diggory here his chair back.” He snaps. His chair? “It’s okay. I’ll just pull another one over.” Cedric pipes up, dragging an extra seat over to our table. I glare at him, but either he doesn’t see, or he’s not intimidated. Realistically, it should be the first. “Hi. I’m Cedric. And you are?” He sits down and holds out his hand. I ignore him and focus on the book in front of me. The fact that I know his name and he doesn’t know mine, stings. Just a little. So I let him sit there awkwardly, his hand still out to shake. “Um, your name?” He asks again, as if he thought I just didn’t hear him. “Assilvia.” I grit out, annoyed that he isn’t taking the hint and leaving me alone. “Pretty name.” For some reason, him saying this irritates me, even though I know he’s just being friendly. I narrow my bright green irises at him and snap, “Shouldn’t we be working on this?” “You’re right. We should.” He leans over my shoulder to look at the book. It’s the first time I see his face up close. It’s too close, but I take the chance to study his features. Dark, wavy hair. Vibrant gray eyes. Defined cheekbones. I realize too late that he’s looking at me too. I whip my gaze away, trying to keep the color off my cheeks. “Is something wrong?” He asks. I shake my head and start wildly cutting roots, trying to look hard at work. “You’ll want to do those slower, we want them to be evenly sized.” He tells me pointing to my destroyed plant. I practically seethe. Who is this guy anyway, to be telling me how to cut my roots? He’s right though. That’s what angers me the most. I brush my long black hair over my shoulder and roll my eyes. “Fine. You cut them then. Show me how it’s done if your such an expert.” I say, shoving the roots at him. He looks taken aback for a second but quickly recovers. To my aggravation, He begins to narrate what he’s doing, as if he’s teaching a young child how to draw in the lines. “So, first, you want to pick a knife suitable for this kind of root- “ I interrupt abruptly. “Can we just work quietly? Please?” “But I thought you said-“ “No,” I growl. “I didn’t.” “Well, okay. If you insist.” But apparently, Diggory can’t hold his stupid tongue for more than five minutes, because soon, he begins talking again. To me. “Do you like potions?” “Yes.” “What do you enjoy about it? I like the subject, but I never really like all the discussion about poison and death you know?” “That’s the only part I like.” I answer. Which is a lie. “Huh. Personally, I think the happier ones are more appealing. Like liquid luck, for instance.” Of course that’s his favorite. That’s everyone’s favorite. Honestly though? Pretty boy Cedric wouldn’t even need it. He’s got everything! Popularity, friends, good grades, athleticism, good looks. Okay, I did not just admit that. I carefully stir the cauldron looking anywhere and everywhere but at Cedric. Our potion is slowly turning a hot, bubbly, pink, indicating that it’s finished. Why? Cause it’s a love potion of course. I shudder thinking how awful it would be if I were controlled by that unnatural sensation. Love potions scare me more than poisons do. I can’t believe that ministry of magic hasn’t banned them from existence yet. Not that anyone would use it on me. I relax a little, feeling somehow safer. Cedric sees this (of course) and nods. “I’m glad we’re done too. Potion making is stressful, isn’t it?” “No.” I say curtly even though it definitely is. Snape walks around the room, checking everyone’s brews. He scowls when he comes to Miller’s cauldron. It’s a bright teal color, and I silently thank my lucky stars he didn’t choose me as a teammate. Any fellow Slytherin would be better than loudmouth Diggory though, which is one of my new nicknames for him. A few parting lectures later, and we’re finally dismissed. Phew. I