You stood in front of the Potions room, stubbing out your cigarette on the stone wall.

You slipped in quietly, wincing when the door creaked. Fuck those old hinges.

You attempted to sneak to your seat, only for Slughorn to call you out in front of the whole class. His jolly, booming voice called out, a bemused smile on his face. “You’re five minutes late, Madam Hawthorne! Care to share with the class what reason a bright young witch like yourself has for being late?”

You flushed pink all the way down your blouse. Alice, your annoying seat mate, hid a giggle behind a tan hand. Damn my stupid Pureblood skin! You thought, adjusting the bag on your shoulder.

“I… uh, I had to stop by the Hospital Wing to pick up some birth control from Madam Pomfrey.” You mumbled, flushing even darker.

You had given him the doctor’s note the day prior, mentioning you were going to be late to class, but he was never good at keeping track of things.

Merlin, as if balancing overbearing parents and classwork wasn’t enough, you had just gotten in trouble for being an anemic with a heavy period.

After being given detention for being late- you’d corrected his boasting once and he had decided you were a self-righteous prick- you were allowed to creep back to your desk.

You plopped into your seat next to Alice, who was still snickering. You and the halfblood had a complicated relationship.

You two had gotten drunk at a Hufflepuff dorm party last year around Christmastime, and made out. You had awoken fully clothed but on the floor of Alesia Greengrass’s dorm with the shorter girl’s arm around you. You had promptly started yelling all of the Blood Supremacist shit you could think of as they were both Halfbloods.

Alice had never quite forgiven you for your freak out- not like you could really blame her.

Your head hit the desk and you cradled your forehead in both hands, to the pleasure of your hated Potions partner.

She giggled again, flicking her cigarette out of the open window. The spring air was nice, the stench of smoke was not. You wrinkled your nose in a day she found adorably pompous.

What, you were too good for cigs now? Did that mean you’d quit? Whatever. Not like she cared.

“Aww, is Little Miss Perfect cheating on me?” Alice whispered loud enough for the surrounding students to hear, much to the amusement of James and his little Cronies.

“Ew!” You whisper-shrieked, pushing the tanned and secretly tattooed arm off your shoulders with a little shudder. “We’re not fating, you twat!”

She laughed like she always did, fiddling with the clip that held her shaggy brown-red curls from her face. It was a yellow snail with a brown shell- something that was almost sweet.

Fuck her, with her stupid claw clips and her stupid cigarettes and her stupid Apple Cider-Cinnamon smell.