“I think you should talk to Al,” Achilles brought up for the millionth time in two days. Alright, a little bit of an exaggeration, but give me a break.
“No,” I growled. And that should have been the end of the subject. I didn’t do anything. He should be apologizing to me. He does not get a bypass to me being angry because he was drunk.
“Please, A? This is so awkward. You’re best friends and quite honestly, I can’t put up with both of you moaning about this.” I glared at him. That traitor was speaking to the enemy. Achilles shrugged and added, “I think he’s really sorry too.”
I stiffened. As much as I wanted to believe it, I couldn’t bring myself to do so. “Then shouldn’t he be the one apologizing to me?”
“A, c’mon,” Achilles pleaded. “You’re both too stubborn for your own good. Al knows he what he did, he just doesn’t want to be the one to apologize.”
I ignored most of his point but addressed the most important part.
“I am not stubborn.”
Well, kind of.
“And I’m the Queen of England,” Achilles said, his voice dripping of sarcasm. “You are the most stubborn person I know, A. And I guarantee you that I’m not the only one who thinks so.”
“I’d argue, but I’m so not stubborn, I’m gonna let it drop.”
Achilles brightened with child-like glee. “So does that mean you’re gonna go talk to him?”
Alright, calm down, Achilles… Down, boy.
“Are you mental? Of course not.”
I was furiously copying down notes for Potions, in my usual seat at the front of the classroom. Usually, a certain someone sat to my left, but the seat was occupied by my annoying older brother.
Yeah, guess who I’m not sitting beside?
He was too busy sitting beside Rose.
You know what? She doesn’t even deserve for me to use her name anymore. Her name forevermore will be Ginger Bitch.
… Bit excessive, but whatever.
“You know you can’t live without him,” Achilles pointed out smugly, not bothering to take notes of his own.
“Yes, I bloody can,” I snapped back furiously and I could feel the artery in my neck pulsing violently. “I’m not some useless bimbo who needs a male in her life to feel content or get anything accomplished. I am strong and independent. Fuck Al. Who needs him?” I finished my rant and crossed my ‘t’ so violently I ripped my parchment.
“Miss Flynn, are you quite done?” Professor Ravenslade asked authoritatively from the front of the classroom. The Potions professor (coincidentally, my least favourite) resembled a fox. She had ginger hair streaked with gray that was pulled into a slick ponytail. Her nose was very prominent, like a snout and her limbs were long and thin. She even had her sly wit and the speed and grace of a fox.
If she wasn’t so scary, she would actually look very comical.
I blushed a brilliant crimson and ducked down in my seat.
“Sorry, ma’am,” I muttered and continued scribbling my notes.
Pepper-up potion is a simple, yet effective that will allow the user a boost of energy. However, with various adaptions, this potion can become far more powerful –
“A, I know you can’t concentrate without Al here with you,” Achilles said, yawning as he did so. I glared at him and his carefree attitude. Achilles never really cared for grades.
Well, I’m trying to be a potioneer. I kind of need to do well.
“Correction,” I started, without even looking at him. “I can’t concentrate with you here with me. I swear to Merlin, you have a worse attention problem than I do.”
“Do not,” Achilles said, offended.
“Is that Gwenog Jones!?” I exclaimed pointing out the window beside Achilles’ head.
“Where?” Achilles snapped his head around so quickly, I thought his neck broke.
I snickered triumphantly to myself as Achilles muttered mutinous curses under his breath.
I am the master of deception.
“Hey, A, what did you get on your shirt?”
“Where?” I exclaimed hastily, looking down. I swear to Merlin, if I ruined another shirt, I’d have to injure someone.
I was rewarded by getting flicked in the face.
… Alright, maybe not the master of deception. How about young apprentice?
“Well?” Ravenslade snapped impatiently, tapping her pointed black heels. “What are you all standing around for? Go make me a potion!”
Achilles nearly fell out of his seat as Ravenslade bellowed her last words. Before he could even curse, I was already at the cabinets, grabbing the ingredients.
I’m not necessarily the most outstanding student, but I was good at Potions. Neville compared me once to Severus Snape.
I don’t know if I should feel honoured or insulted. On one hand, Snape was a war hero, ultimately saved the Wizarding World, and was a master at Potions.
On the other hand, Al’s mum always told me that Snape was a massive dick. And I mean, c’mon, look at that greasy hair. I definitely have better hair than he does. Right? Wait – don’t answer that.
I was grabbing all the ingredients listed on the chalkboard with lightning speed. Most of the students were still in their seats looking stunned. But I knew what I was doing. Rose Weasley may be the most gifted witch of our age, but she’s got nothing on me when it comes to Potions.
I wake up every morning and decide to make Potions my bitch.
True story, bro.
“Achilles! Do not stir clockwise!” I shrieked (only a tad hysterically) as Achilles neared my potion.
Ahem, I mean our potion.
Okay, no I don’t. Let’s be honest. Achilles reads me the ingredients while I do everything else. That’s pretty much what Al does for me.
Well, did for me.
That sounded a tad more dramatic then intended.
“It says clockwise in the book,” Achilles defended, holding up his tattered book of Advanced Potion Making. I scoffed.
“The book is lying to you,” I said, and grabbed the book in question out of his hands and threw it in the bin. I ignored his indignant ‘oi!’ as I continued to explain. “When the book says ‘stir clockwise’ it means ‘stir clockwise 9 times and counter clockwise twice.’”
Achilles smacked his head lightly. “How silly of me!” he exclaimed. “Clearly, I didn’t get the revised Ambrosia Flynn edition! How positively foolish!”
“OW! Did you just bite me!?”
“… Maybe…” Achilles grinned mischievously. I scolded him by whacking him in the back of his head with my potions book. I ignored his indignant yelp as I sprinkled cinnamon into the potion.
“Wait!” Achilles said. I gave him an annoyed look. “You’re not supposed to put cinnamon in.”
I rolled my eyes impatiently. “Leave me alone, I know what I’m doing.”
“The last time you said that, my eyebrows were burnt off.”
“That was out of my control.”
“You told me you could make fireworks!”
“Well, it worked, didn’t it? You’re eyebrows were just casualties in the process.”
“Time’s up!” a sharp voice announced. The chatter of students died down instantly as heads turned to look at the front of the room. Ravenslade cleared her throat. “Put your potion in a vial and bring it up! Clean up your mess too!”
“Dibs not cleaning!” I yelled, quickly, pocketing a small vial of my potion. I nearly ran up to Ravenslade before Achilles could even react.
“Bitch!” he called after me, while I snickered. I waited in the line of students with their finished products. The potion was supposed to be a blood red, but most people had a pale pink. It doesn’t look like much of a difference, but that’s what makes my potion an Outstanding while the others will just get an Acceptable.
“Fruity,” someone called to me and tugged my sleeve. I turned around, but once I saw a pair of emerald eyes, I immediately turned around.
“Fruity, can we talk?” Al asked, awkwardly. I could imagine him ruffling the back of his hair with his hand. He probably stuck Rose with cleaning just so he could try to talk to me. That’s cute, but I can be stubborn if I want to.
… Well, kinda.
“I don’t think I have anything to say to you,” I said, but I could feel my resistance crumbling. When it came to Al, I never did have much of it.
For fuck’s sakes. When did I become such a softie?
“I didn’t mean anything I said-”
“Obviously, you did,” I snapped harshly, “Otherwise you would have never said it.” I stared purposely forward so I had no will to turn around and look him in the eye. My resolve would most definitely crumble the second I saw his face.
“Here, Professor,” I said in a small voice as I placed the vial in the center of her wrinkled hand. She closed her thin fingers on top of it and gave me a lip curling smile.
“I look forward to grading your work, Ambrosia,” she said in her sharp voice, while pocketing my potion.
Why are all the professors at Hogwarts psychopaths?
I quickly stepped out of line and while Al was talking to Ravenslade, I made a break for it. I rushed over to where Achilles was cleaning up our stuff and grabbed my book bag. Before I could run away, Achilles gripped the back of my robes.
“Now, where do you think you’re going?” Achilles asked, yanking me backwards. I turned around and frowned at his stupid honey brown eyes.
“To class,” I said smoothly while pulling my robes away from Achilles. He raised a brown eyebrow at me and gave me a knowing look.
“You don’t have class,” he retorted. I rolled my eyes at him. The only thing that sucks about having a brother in your year is that he knows your entire schedule.
“Remedial Charms,” I lied.
“You got an E on your OWL.”
“Well, I’m teaching Remedial Charms.”
Achilles laughed. “No, you are not. No one starts Remedial classes this early in the term.”
I glared at him. “Things change, Achilles.”
“Just go talk to him, A,” Achilles sighed exasperatedly. He gave me such a cute, sad puppy face that I almost gave in. He looked so young with his big eyes and his freckles that seemed so prominent on his face.
No fair, why didn’t I get freckles?
I sighed. “I’ll talk to him when he grows up, Achilles.”
“You can’t really blame him, A,” Achilles reasoned. “He was drunk. He didn’t mean it.”
“Don’t defend him,” I snapped and shoved him away from me. I poked him in the chest. “It’s not your business, Achilles.”
“It’s my best mate and my sister,” he retorted, he grabbed my arm tightly. “This has everything to do with me.”
I was so wrapped up in our conversation that when Al approached me, I jumped a foot in the air.
“Fruity, you have to stop running away from me and let me talk,” he said pleadingly.
“I don’t want to talk,” I said stiffly, and walked out of the room as fast as I could.
“I really didn’t mean any of it!” he called after me, running to catch up.
“Well, then you shouldn’t have said it,” I snapped. I weaved my way through students in the corridor, making it even harder for Al to keep up with me.
“I was drunk!”
“Cool story. Doesn’t make it okay.”
“Will you just stop?” he grunted, and grabbed me firmly by the shoulders. I closed my eyes so I didn’t have to look into his, but I was suddenly more aware of his raspy breathing and inexplicably wanted to snog the living daylights out of him.
Damn teenage hormones.
“What are you doing?” Al asked with a small chuckle, in spite of the situation.
“Not looking at you,” I answered.
“Because you’ll give me your puppy eyes and I’ll forgive you,” I said.
“Fruity, you know that I-”
“I’m not listening! La-la-la-la!” I shouted and stuffed my fingers into my ears.
Who said I was immature?
That bitch is dumb.
I am so mature.
“Fruity, can you please just listen?” Al yelled and with one smooth movement, he pulled my hands out of my ears. I could feel his warm hands around my wrists. I tried to ignore how I could feel his chest against mine.
“Please, look at me,” he whispered. I shook my head.
“Fruity, please,” he begged and I could’ve sworn his voice cracked as he said it.
I cracked one eye open out of sheer curiosity to find him looking intently at me. He looked so sad and genuine. I caved.
I sighed and opened my other eye.
“What, Al?” I grunted, looking pointedly in the other direction.
“I am sorry,” he repeated and I could hear him shuffling his shoes.
“You hurt me, Al,” I said in a small voice. I cleared my voice and said louder, “That’s something I never expected from you.”
“My last mistake, Fruity, I promise-”
I gritted my teeth. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Al.”
Al made a pained noise. “I’m not-”
“I don’t want you disappointing me again,” I said, looking him dead in the eye. I could see the thoughts whirling within them.
Al, what are you thinking?
“Fruity, I love you and I’ll never disappoint you again-”
“Do you actually think there’s something going on with me and Louis?” I asked bluntly. I hadn’t talked to Louis about this at all, but I knew how we felt about each other and I didn’t like him how I liked Al.
Al looked guiltily at the floor and shuffled his shoes again. “It’s not that I think you’re madly in love with him or anything-”
“Then what do you think?” I egged him on. A part of me was wishing that he was jealous – that I belonged to him and no one else.
Al thought his answer carefully. When he finally spoke, he said, “I was jealous of how close you were getting with Louis.” He looked at me expectantly, but I looked at him and waited for him to elaborate further. He sighed. “I know I was being irrational, but I felt like suddenly you weren’t telling me everything anymore.”
“If I’m not telling you everything, it’s not because of Louis,” I retorted. It’s actually because I’m head over heels in love with you. But I guess can’t tell you that.
“But you should be able to tell me everything, Fruity,” Al said. He grabbed my little hand in his. “Fruity, I’m really sorry. I’m not supposed to be the one to hurt you. I’m supposed to be there when you’re upset and not the one making you that way.”
“You didn’t come after me,” I said in a small voice. “I waited for you to follow me-”
“And I was stupid and drunk,” Al said immediately. “Trust me, I’m never drinking ever again in my life. Next party, I’ll be sober with you, I promise.”
I let myself smile a little. “Thanks,” I said. I felt like the world was shifting back into place. My hand in Al’s and him smiling at me like no one else existed.
“Fruity, I don’t care if you like Louis,” Al said finally. I raised my eyebrows at him. Okay, now I was lost. “He seems to make you happy, so if you like him, go for it. I won’t be standing in your way-”
“Wait,” I said, the gears in my head turning. “You still think that I like him?”
“I promise, I’ll get off your back,” he continued, ignoring my mumbling entirely. “I only want you to be happy and that’ll be the most important thing for me, always.”
I stared at him unblinkingly. What was he getting at?
“But, Fruity, I really need your help.” Al grabbed my other hand so that he was grasping both of them, somewhat desperately.
Whatever I was expecting, it wasn’t what he said.
I was expecting something along the lines of:
I need your help burying a body.
I need you to help me pass Potions.
I need you to help me journey to Antarctica.
Believe me. What was going on in my mind didn’t sound anything like:
“I need you to help Piper fall in love with me.”
Cupid, you are a sick ass hole, aren’t you?
Seriously, you’re just sick.
A/N: Whoopeeee! Another chapter! That really wasn't that long to update right? ;) Reviews make me happy! :D *wink wink* *nudge nudge*