fleamont potter had long been renowned for his unparalleled skill in the art of potion-making. this was evident from his frequent corridor exchanges involving various concoctions; sleep draughts, study aids, and the occasional prototype of a hair-straightening serum he was convinced would one day secure him a handsome fortune.

while he earned accolades for his flawless preparation of the draught of living death in classes, being sweetly affirmed by euphemia who he was rather close with, you were frankly offending all the greatest potioneers in history.

you were probably precisely what gave professor slughorn nightmares, to be frank. you were just that bad.

so getting paired with the careless prodigy may have been the biggest fuck you hogwarts had ever sent your way.

“what do you mean you fetched a goose egg from the cabinet?” fleamont questioned, his dark brows raised in mild incredulity as his hazel eyes tore themselves away from his copy of a potion-brewing manual from the restricted section. his dark curls fell almost carelessly over his forehead, clearly he did not use his own potion to straighten them out.

the two of you had agreed to a study session in his dormitory, since his roommates were at quidditch practice, and the common room was bound to get rowdy when they returned. his expression of utter disdain may have been comical under any other circumstances, but it was a wonder that you had not flushed pink yet.

“i said find frozen ashwinder egg, not merely the first egg you happened upon,” he remarked, casting a withering glance at the gossamer white goose egg perched upon his desk, as if apologising to it for having to endure being manhandled by you. “bloody hell, maybe i should have just gone myself, save us both the trouble.”