There was no one worse than you, at charms. Flitwick knew that. That’s probably why he paired you up with Parkinson. She was a charms genius.

It's 7, and you’re both in your dorm, working on the project. Well, at least she is. The notorious mean girl actually seems to be concentrating, a drastic change from her usual snarky self.

As she writes on the parchment, her handwriting looks printed. Her nails, polished and cut. Her sleeve rolls up slightly, and just a little below her wrist, your eyes dart to a small spider tattoo, where they linger.

“Spiders," She smirks. "clever little creatures, aren't they?” Not looking up at you, she keeps writing.