Unexpected Alliances
The week passed in a blur of classes and late-night studying for Irma. The atmosphere in Hogwarts was buzzing with the anticipation of the upcoming Hogsmeade weekend, but Irma found herself focused on her studies. She had her own battles to fight—particularly concerning her family’s curse. But she couldn’t ignore the whispers of curiosity surrounding her; every now and then, a student would approach her, intrigued by the mysterious transfer student from Durmstrang.
On one particularly gloomy afternoon, Irma found herself wandering the corridors, lost in thought. The dungeons had become a second home to her, a sanctuary filled with the scent of herbs and the quiet hum of brewing potions. However, today, she sought a break from her studies.
As she turned a corner, she stumbled upon Neville Longbottom, hunched over a table in the Potions classroom. His brow was furrowed, and his parchment was filled with messy notes and half-finished potion recipes. The normally cheerful Gryffindor was struggling, and it tugged at something soft within Irma.
“Hey, Longbottom,” she said, stepping into the room, her voice light.
Neville looked up, startled. “Oh! Irma! I didn’t see you there.” His cheeks flushed a deep red. “I’m just… trying to figure out this potion assignment for Snape.”
Irma approached the table, glancing over his chaotic notes. “Looks like you’ve got a bit of a mess here,” she remarked with a teasing smile. “What potion are you working on?”
“The Draught of Living Death,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, as if admitting a great secret.
Irma raised an eyebrow. “Ah, the one we just did in class. You should be able to handle this.” She leaned over the table, pointing at his notes. “You’re missing the right proportions for the valerian root and the powdered snake fangs. You need to make sure it’s exactly one drachm of each.”
Neville frowned, glancing at his parchment. “I didn’t think it was that important.”
Irma’s expression softened for a moment, genuine affection shining in her light grey eyes. “It is, trust me. Potions are all about precision. Snape will have a fit if you get it wrong.”
For a brief second, the tension in the room dissipated, replaced by a warmth that hung in the air. Irma’s guidance was offered not just as a tutor but as a friend, her demeanor uncharacteristically gentle.
“Thanks, Irma,” Neville said, visibly relaxing under her scrutiny. “I really appreciate it. I thought I’d never finish this.”
Irma grinned. “You’re going to do just fine. Just take it step by step.”
As Neville began to rewrite his notes, a shadow fell across the doorway. Draco Malfoy stood at the entrance, arms crossed, watching the scene unfold. His expression twisted into a scowl as he observed Irma leaning over Neville, her warm demeanor a stark contrast to his own.
“What’s this? A Potions study group?” Draco’s voice dripped with sarcasm, drawing their attention.
Irma straightened, a flicker of annoyance crossing her features. “We’re not in a group, Malfoy. I’m just helping Neville.”
Draco stepped further into the room, his gaze fixed on Neville. “Helping him? Or flirting with him?”
Irma rolled her eyes, the irritation in her voice unmistakable. “Flirting? Please, Malfoy. Don’t flatter yourself. I’m not interested in your idea of affection.”
Draco’s jaw tightened, and he felt a surge of something uncomfortable in his chest. Seeing Irma’s warm expression while talking to Neville made him want to snarl. Why did she have to be nice to him? The thought of Neville having her attention ignited an uncharacteristic jealousy in him.
Neville glanced between them, sensing the tension. “I’m just trying to finish my homework,” he interjected awkwardly, hoping to defuse the situation.
Irma turned back to Neville, her expression softening again. “Just remember to be precise, okay? You’ll be fine if you take your time.”
Draco’s irritation only deepened as he watched Irma offer Neville an encouraging smile. Why did she make it look so easy? He opened his mouth to retort, but the words caught in his throat. Instead, he found himself watching her closely—how she focused on Neville, how her eyes sparkled with genuine kindness.
“Don’t worry, Neville,” Draco finally said, his voice low. “If you fail, I’m sure it’ll be just a passing grade. We wouldn’t want Snape thinking poorly of your exceptional talents.”
Irma shot him a glare. “That’s not helpful, Malfoy.”
Draco’s lips twitched in a smirk. “Just being realistic.”
As Irma turned back to Neville, Draco felt a pang of annoyance. What did he care about Neville’s grades? And yet, here he was, feeling possessive over Irma’s attention like an idiot.
“Let me know if you need any more help,” Irma said to Neville, her voice warm again. “You can always come find me in the library or the dungeons.”
“Yeah, I will! Thanks, Irma,” Neville said, a smile breaking through his earlier stress.
As she walked past Draco to leave, she gave him a pointed look, one that silently challenged him to say something else. Draco watched her go, caught between frustration and an unfamiliar admiration for her strength and kindness.
“You know, you could learn a thing or two from her,” he muttered, unable to stop himself.
“About potions?” Draco scoffed, crossing his arms defensively.
“About being a decent person,” Neville replied, his tone steady.
With that, Neville returned to his notes, and Draco huffed, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. As he stood in the quiet room, he couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe Irma was not just a puzzle to solve but someone who was changing the rules of his game.