Study Partners
Juliet Van Der Hart was dead — or at least, she wanted to be. She hardly got as hungover as she felt at this moment. Usually, her unbounded tolerance allowed her to at least make it through an 11:30 AM class without feeling nauseous and swelling in her temples. Obviously, she'd pushed her luck too far last night.
It came and went and she never knew when to expect her next hangover when she blacks out at every party and hardly remembers how much she drank. But Daphne had informed her that she'd downed shots after shots within mere seconds apart. It felt good at the moment, but she never learned to think about how she would feel the next morning. Why? Pansy would cover for her — always. Any mess she created at night would be magically fixed in the morning. Who cares about a little hangover?
After class, Snape's voice sliced through the low hum of chatter as he dismissed the students. "Draco Malfoy, Juliet Van Der Hart—stay after class."
Draco suppressed a groan, rolling his eyes as he exchanged a glance with Blaise, who raised an eyebrow in curiosity. He shot a glance at Juliet, who sat slumped over her desk, her long blonde hair obscuring her face. She looked like she hadn't slept in days, and the remnants of last night's party clung to her like an unwanted shroud.
Juliet didn't feel quite the dread that Draco obviously felt. But after hearing his insipidities, now she did. She still hadn't figured out why Draco hated her so much. Sure, they weren't the best of friends. Quite frankly, their friend group that consisted of her, Pansy, Daphne, Blaise, Theodore and Draco weren't exactly tight. They were just a couple of kids at Hogwarts that knew each other for a long time because of their families and they just chose to stick together.
As the rest of the class filed out, Snape's cold gaze settled on the two of them. "Juliet, your recent performance in Potions has been... disappointing — or so it has been for several years since you stepped foot into this institution," he said, his tone laced with contempt. "I believe some extra help is in order. Draco will tutor you."
Draco crossed his arms, a mixture of disbelief and irritation washing over him. "Why do I have to? She's practically beyond saving," he shot back, his voice dripping with disdain.
Juliet finally lifted her head, her eyes glassy and unfocused. "I don't need his help," she muttered, the words slightly slurred.
Snape's expression hardened. "You will not only learn the material, but you will also practice proper potion-making techniques. Draco's expertise will be... beneficial."
"Expertise? Right," Draco scoffed. "I'd rather teach a troll. She'll just mess everything up."
Juliet glared at him, a fire igniting in her chest. "At least I know how to have fun, Malfoy. You wouldn't recognize a good time if it hit you in the face."
Draco stepped closer, their faces mere inches apart, the tension between them palpable. "You're a joke, Juliet. Everyone knows it. You think you can waltz in here with your privilege and charm? You're just a shallow party girl."
Her expression shifted, a flicker of vulnerability flashing before she masked it with defiance. "And you think being a miserable little brat makes you better than me? At least I know how to enjoy life. You're just... sad."
His smirk faltered for a moment, surprised by the sharpness of her words. "Fun doesn't equate to success. Maybe if you spent less time partying and more time studying, you wouldn't be in this mess."
She stood her ground, refusing to back down. "You have no idea what my life is like, Draco. You see the surface and think you know everything."
"Your life is a party," he shot back, unable to resist the urge to belittle her. "You can't even focus long enough to state true or false."
Juliet's eyes flashed with anger, but beneath it lay a flicker of something else—hurt, perhaps? "Maybe you should try it sometime. You might find that life isn't just about potions and grades."
Draco stepped back, the cool facade slipping back into place. "Good luck with that. You'll need it." He turned to leave, the weight of her stare burning into his back.
As he walked to grab his bag, he felt an unsettling mix of satisfaction and confusion. He thrived on the tension between them, the fire that ignited whenever they clashed. It was practically the only time he got her full attention.
Juliet, for her part, stayed behind, feeling the sting of his words. She hated that he had such an effect on her. She knew she shouldn't be taking his words to heart and convinced herself that it came from a place of dissatisfaction with his own life.
As she turned to gather her things, Draco spun past her and said, "3 o'clock at the library every Friday. If you're late, goodluck retaking fourth year."
Juliet slammed her book on the desk and faced him. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
Draco, instead of responding, laughed at her as he walked away.