Jamie breezed through her morning lessons with ease, Ron’s funny faces in Charms making it go even faster than normal. 

Much to Hermione’s chagrin, both of them took zero notes on the lecture, too busy trying not to disrupt class by laughing loudly. 

Malfoy was blessedly in the front row, too busy scribbling away with his quill to taddle on them as he had so many times before. Jamie was convinced his favorite pastime was devising new ways to get them in trouble- and with some professors, it took little.

Unfortunately, that unnamed minority was her next class, and it rushed at her faster than she would’ve liked. An unfortunate consequence to having an easy day. 

It was her last class, but it really felt like the chopping block. On top of the hard time Snape was bound to give her for the most minuscule things, she had to hang after for more cheerful conversation. 

And she had no idea how it was going to go, or the way Snape would take this information. 

Jamie was even unnerved for the answers she would receive. She couldn’t even fathom how he would explain- if at all.

All the unknowns of that future situation made her  extremely nervous, so she pushed it to the back of her mind. No use getting bent out of shape, she reasoned with herself, as class came to an eager end. She packed up her blank parchment and quill, trailing a head of bushy hair out.

Dwelling on things was hard anyway, especially with her two friends bickering across from her, all the way down to the dungeons. 

“You are not paying attention! No wonder you always need my help!” Ron scoffed at that, rolling his eyes as if Hermione was baseless.

“Shove off it, ‘mione!” He retorted, the lack of a proper argument displaying an obvious truth in the former statement. 

Jamie fought off the urge to roll her eyes with incredible valor. 

The temperature dipped as they descended further into the castle, rounding stone corridors like lamb to the slaughter. 

Ron and Hermione’s capacity to argue astounded even Jamie, and she found herself continuing to be an unwilling third party, even as they entered Snape’s classroom. 

Luckily, the elusive man wasn’t even there yet, otherwise it would’ve been a quick silencer to Hermione’s chastisement. 

Jamie almost found herself wishing he would stride in dramatically, robes billowing per usual. If only to silence the pointlessness of her mate’s verbal sparring. 

All three of them knew Ron would never be a golden student, and Hermione would never stop reprimanding him for it- leaving the situation at an impasse. 

Jamie sarcastically pondered if it would ever get old.

The girl got her almost-wish promptly after that last thought, a bat descending on the chatter of the classroom, having emerged from his potion stores. 

It was incredibly effective at exterminating all noise, including Ron and Hermione- to Jamie’s relief. 

That fizzled out quickly when she recognized the piss-poor mood Snape was in. 

Dark circles, more pronounced than usual, dragged under his coal-black eyes. 

They raked the classroom with a brittle patience, and all but the Slytherins shrunk back. 

He sneered, turning up his hooked nose, and drawing his black garments around his middle. 

Sometimes Jamie wondered if he had any other color in his closet.

“Brewing instructions are on the board. I understand most of you dunderheads are incapable of literacy, but attempt to follow the exceedingly facile steps.” And with that scathing remark, Potions class commenced. 

Jamie exhaled through her nose as her and Ron split off into their normal brewing group. No words were exchanged, and Hermione turned to Neville- the hazardous student next to her in the first row of cauldrons. 

Jamie had thought of trying to switch seats to the back multiple times, especially because Snape always started with them first- but she had a feeling the Professor wouldn’t be very happy with that decision.

So, she waited for the inevitable breathing down the back of her neck as Ron scampered to get ingredients from a table in the front.

Ron came back with a handful of concerning plants and parts, a few things Jamie had never even seen before. 

She looked over to the front, adjusting her glasses and furrowing her brow as she read what they were supposed to do.

As per usual, it was never as simple as Snape made it seem- and there were a lot of things missing from his “facile steps”.

First of all, he never really specified how to cut certain things, and since that was a pretty big distinction in Potions, Jamie hoped she guessed right.

To be fair, they were supposed to research the process themselves outside of class, but Jamie didn’t have the time. 

So, she took a flying guess, and crushed the newt’s eyes into a pulp on her neighboring desk. 

Ron was dicing something up on the opposite end of the caldron beside her, and she hoped he took the time to read the directions too.

Ron wasn’t great in potions already, and having Snape as the teacher inflamed his hatred for the subject. 

“Ron, whatcha got there?” Jamie asked, gathering up her newt eyes. They went into the cauldron first. 

“Lake kelp. Did you put the eyes in yet?” He asked, freckled face briefly glancing at her with a handful of green, slimy mass. 

“Yeah. It says we have to stir counterclockwise for 10 minutes.” She replied diligently, aware of eyes burning into the back of her skull.

Looks like it was their turn for the metaphorical execution of self esteem. 

He was certainly timely, as Jamie almost started to enjoy the mundanity.

Ron had just plopped the kelp in when a shadow came to a halt in front of their desks. 

Both her and Ron shared a glance, and then promptly ignored the Professor. Sometimes, silence could help them skid by. Ron found the lip of the pot very interesting, while Jamie stirred slowly.

However, Snape was not in a good mood, as previously observed by Jamie. 

“Potter. Are you lethargic?” He snapped, crossing his slender arms over his chest. 

Jamie stared into the yellowish-goop. “No sir.”

“Then I wonder why your spoon is practically immobile. Is that what you call ‘stirring’?”  He hissed, anger slithering into each letter. 

Jamie’s fingers tightened on the wooden handle.

“Well sir, you never specified on the board what speed to stir it at.” She replied, an edge building to her tone. Jamie reminded herself to stay calm. Her attitude would likely affect how forthcoming Snape would be later.

Snape made a small cooing nose. “It seems as though Miss Potter needs me to hold her hand,” His thick mocking was prevalent, and Jamie thought he must have cosmic power to push her buttons. 

Ron growled, and Jamie was quick to shoot him a small shake of her head. He was a guaranteed detention near every time he opened his mouth around Snape. 

“Something the matter, Mr. Weasley?” The Professor’s tone was quiet, and one could even mistake it for pleasant. One who didn’t know him very well. 

Jamie’s own glare made Ron shrink back from whatever he was about to throw at the pale, pinched visage of Snape’s face. 

“No, P’ffesor.” Ron muttered, and Jamie was pleased at his restraint. Maybe Snape was onto something with those glares of his.

The potions master crinkled his dark brows, and his lips pulled into something between a frown and a sneer. Jamie guessed he was probably surprised at the lack of fire from them that was usual. 

“Stir faster.” He spit out, and left to hound poor Neville- an undoubtedly more amusing endeavor for him. 

Both Jamie and Ron let out a breath, the oppressive weight of the Slytherin’s presence being lifted. 

“Greasy git.” Ron muttered, and his preparations for the potions were noticeably jerkier. 

“Ron, leave the frog legs alone. They didn’t do anything to you.” Jamie teased, watching Ron practically chop them into a grind. 

The redhead scoffed at that, but the mood was improving the more that Snape was absent. 

“Sure you still wanna talk to this guy after class?” Ron whispered, looking at Jamie like she had lost her mind. 

He dumped the frog legs in, and Jamie’s faster stir incorporated the ingredients quickly. 

“Gotta. I’m not gonna just ignore the fact that he-“ She took a quick glance at Snape, watching his face flash with a sick sort of satisfaction as Neville’s eyes glistened with new tears. 

She felt bad for Hermione, who was clearly the one making sure the potion didn’t explode. 

“-helped me? Saved my life?” The words felt weird rolling off her tongue when she knew who they addressed, and her pride withered at admitting he had likely prevented her from experiencing the dementors kiss. 

It didn’t get any easier the more she acknowledged it, if anything it got stranger. 

Ron seemed to think so too, because he shuttered at the thought. “I hope you hallucinated or something, mate.” 

Jamie didn’t answer. That made two of them. 

The rest of class they were blessed with no more interference, perhaps by the grace of god. 

It was only when Gryffindors was practically trampling each-other to get out of there, Ron included, that Jamie felt all of her anxiety and anticipation come to a head. 

Snape had swept behind his desk, quill angrily scratching grades that would crumble first-years. 

Hermione lingered, drifting over to Jamie. She looked frazzled, as she often did when grouped with Neville. 

“I can stay.” She whispered. Jamie shook her head as she ordered her parchment. 

“Thanks Hermione, really. But I want to do this by myself.” There was a surge of gratitude for her friend, and Jamie smiled warmly. 

Hermione matched her warmth, and gathered all her materials. “Good Luck.” She breathed as she brushed past, and Jamie let the sentiment hang in the air.

She was going to need it.