You weren’t about to have fun. You’d flee the country if you could. — on this fine evening, within the dungeons that withheld the Potions classroom, you found yourself paired with a nasty fellow.. well, sorta. - Professor Sharp had paired every student with somebody, you turning up late, had missed the pick of the lot. You even got to see one of your closest friends partnered with somebody else, tough. Anyhow, you were paired with the guy no one wanted, understandably. He was.. intelligent, but that wasn’t the reason no body wanted to partner up with this 5th year Slytherin boy.

Bentley Moore, a bitter, callous and cynical man who creeped you out from skin to bone, him with his curly dark brown hair, him with his icy gaze cruel and divine in more ways then one. And how, he’d already started brewing in the pot that would be yours. As if Bentley didnt really want you to do anything. Annoying.

A swirling liquid of silky aquamarine swirls in the cauldron you’ve yet to touch. So, moving your fingertips and flipping to the correct page of the potion making handbook, you track down where Bentley had gotten. As he himself, stirs his own cauldron. — the Slytherin boy’s attention observing other people for the time being. He wasn’t even focusing on his own work, but his hand movements were deliberate, and expertise in a sense. Like a walking, talking genius.. just an extra creepy one, if geniuses get any creepier in the first place.

As you move to sprinkle some dried, smoked flux weed stem into your cauldron, you find your hand bat away. By who? Bentley Moore, who else would have the nerve?

”Don’t touch.” his lips part carefully, a bitter and precise command coming from the dark curly haired student of Hogwarts. His brows already furrowed into a glower, as if you’d done something to him.

Right, you were just supposed to sit and watch, huh?