"Miss Forger-Prince..." Professor Slughorn began.
"Oh Dieu, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I know I'm late..." Anya interrupted as she rushed into the potions lab room, robes and bag barely hanging on to her form.
"...Late again," Slughorn finished at the same time, "That will be 10 points from Slytherin and a detention with me tonight."
"Yes, sir," Anya groaned out, leaning her head against the lab table as she fell onto her chair. Her bag landed loudly on the floor beside her. Her papa would be so displeased when he found out.
"Watch it!" Damian screeched at her, pulling her away and barely stopping her loose hair from catching fire.
"Ugh, not only are you late again and lost us points, you've almost ruined our potion now. I can't believe I'm stuck with you again."
"Sorry, Sy-on," Anya squeaked, looking down. Slughorn had paired them together again. He'd seen how well they had worked last year. Damian's natural grace and intelligence matched well with her extensive potions knowledge -a requirement of a true Prince, she'd been told by her papa and grandpapa- and her desire to succeed in every class in order to help her papa. She may hate studying but she recognized the need for it. The fact that Damian had found a way to manage her perpetual clumsiness so that no one other than him and her parents and cousin Sev had figured out that even after all this time and all her papa's help she was truly awful at practical potions was a lifesaver. She was certain she would have been outed otherwise. Thankfully, ever since that first day, Damian had never said a word about the matter to anyone but her.
"Don't call me that and tie your hair up already," Damian replied before he moved to check on the potion, all the while grumbling about how he just had to have the luck of being stuck with the one useless Prince.
Anya only nodded and did so, using her scrunchie to tie it in a messy bun then adjusted her robes properly. She found it silly that they were meant to use their everyday robes as their lab coats instead of using different ones like in the muggle world. Especially because the wide sleeves were a hazard waiting to happen. Thankfully, her papa had taught her to carry a separate robe in her bag on lab days. It was one he had specifically bought for potions, with proper, tighter sleeves and all. Nobody would have expected less from a Prince or a proper pureblood for that matter. It was easily noticeable in their class, in fact.
In truth, all the Slytherins had the proper lab robes, as Slughorn had made sure to order those who didn't have them in his house to get them, not that there were many half-bloods other than Prince cousins in the Snake House and everyone knew they knew better. In contrast, many of the Hufflepuffs, their new labmates for the year, didn't have the proper robes. Noting this, she considered talking to her mama about the matter. If a fellow Hufflepuff told them, she was certain they'd listen and it wasn't a surprise her pureblood mama had never thought to tell them, especially since she wasn't present during their potions classes.
"Well, are you gonna help or stare ahead for eternity?" Damian hissed out.
"Sorry," Anya squeaked and scrambled to the table. She took a quick glance at the book in front of her. She'd already studied this potion with her papa as they knew it was coming up and so she soon got to work.
Just as she helped her papa whenever he decided to cook the muggle way, she set to chopping and dicing the ingredients and Damian only nodded at her. He knew that at least in that, she'd do a better job than him. She returned his nod with a soft smile (that Damian refused to acknowledge as it twisted his stomach in an odd way) before wondering again if her papa was so good at cooking because he was so good at potions or vice versa. She wondered if maybe he could teach her to cook. Maybe that could help her potions skills. It couldn't hurt at least.
"Are you done with the asphodel root?" Damian asked, not even glancing up from the bubbling cauldron.
"Yes, here you go," Anya replied and passed it over before going back to work on the flobberworms.
"Thank you," Damian replied absentmindedly.
Anya nodded but kept working. She didn't particularly like working with animal or animal parts, but she had gotten used to it by now. Plus, really, they worked best when she prepped the ingredients and Damian managed the actual brewing part. It really wasn't a wonder that Slughorn wanted to keep their dynamic duo together.
"Ten more minutes, class, and then we have to let the cauldrons sit for half an hour," Slughorn called out. Anya found it interesting that he had never bothered to do so when their labmates had been Ravenclaws.
"Damian, is the potion still boiling?" She asked, finally turning to him. She knew the process well enough to know that it should be cooled down by now.
"Of course not," Damian sneered back, grabbing for the flobberworms.
"No, wait, it needs to cool down some more first!" Anya screeched, reaching to stop him. She noticed that there were still some bubbles in the potions even if the fire had been turned off by now.
"What? It's already off, Anya, and if we wait, they won't sit in it long enough for us to add the frog livers," Damian scoffed and pulled his arm from hers. As if in slow motion, Anya watched it play before her eyes, wishing she could stop it. But the moment the flobberworms hit the cauldron, all she could do was pull him away as it started to boil over and pour out everywhere.
"Miss Forger-Prince, Mr. Desmond, now what is the matter?" Slughorn asked while he waved his wand to clean the mess.
"Sorry sir, I tried to stop him but Damian was worried it wouldn't be enough time between the flobberworms and the livers. It's all my fault, I set us all behind with my tardiness," Anya replied looking down. Damian gaped at her like a fish.
"Well, that will be 10 more points and another detention," Slughorn stated harshly before adding, "However, since it's not fair that Mr. Desmond will also suffer from your botched potion, you two can make it up during your second detention."
He had no desire to be on the bad side of the Desmond family, after all. Plus their favours could go a long way.
"I understand, sir, and thank you for the opportunity," Anya replied, she felt her ire growing. She was mad both at herself for her tardiness and Damian for ignoring her.
"Well, finish cleaning that up," Slughorn said and moved to the front of the class. Anya nodded and got to work immediately, furiously picking up the things that had fallen from the table. Damian remained frozen for a moment before following her moving to help her clean up.
"Thank you," Damian said, unable to think of what else to see but feeling it wasn't enough. Anya simply nodded, too disgruntled to say otherwise and not wishing for him to see the angry tears running down her face. Noticing her poor mood, he worked quietly beside her.
"Hey, you okay?" Damian asked as he sat on the sofa beside Anya's armchair. She was staring pensively at the roaring with a frown on her face and her arms wrapped around her legs.
"Huh?" she asked inelegantly before shaking her head to refocus on him, "Oh yeah, I'm fine, just thinking."
"Well, that can't be good," Damian tried for a joke, hoping to bring some levity. The girl was usually so energetic and active and full of life. It was odd seeing her like this.
Anya frowned and grumbled, "Well, at least I know better than to toss flobberworms into a boiling cauldron."
Damian almost jumped back in surprise. He'd seen her angry often, plenty of times that anger had been directed towards him but it usually seemed more playful.
"I'm sorry," he said, finally apologising. He knew he had been an idiot not to listen to her. Despite her seeming inability to brew a potion correctly, her grasp on theory and her knife skills proved she was still a Prince through and through.
"Well, you should be," Anya huffed and crossed her arms, "Because now papa is extremely disappointed in me and I don't know what to do to make it up to him," she finished, her voice breaking at the last bit.
The worst part was that her papa hadn't been unkind about the whole thing. He'd definitely chastised her and said that she needed to be more punctual but his thoughts, those traitorous thoughts that were so disappointed and worried, had gotten to her.
Damian shifted uncomfortably as he saw the tears running down her face. He patted around, searching for a handkerchief and finally found one. Taking it, he noticed the AFP stitched on it and suddenly remembered the day she had lent it to him after he had to rush to Astronomy class after the Slytherin Quidditch team practice had run late. He had completely forgotten to return it but he offered back to her now.
"Thank you," she said softly before taking it and padding her eyes.
"Um, I'm sure,... I'm sure your father will forgive you soon enough and you can tell him it's my fault, if that helps," Damian said, uncomfortably. He really wished he hadn't sent Ewen and Emile up ahead before him. This was really not his forte, not even having to deal with and indulge Becky's whims could have prepared him for the ache he felt right now in his chest. This was the second time he had made her cry in two years of knowing her and it made him feel like the worst kind of brute.
"It's not all your fault though," she grunted out, "If I hadn't been so late, you wouldn't have felt the need to rush."
"How about we both agree we're at fault and share a snack and some milk, instead?" Damian said, trying to keep the mood lighter. His own mother would often offer snacks to comfort him when he was upset and he had noticed she missed dinner. Hopefully her detention hadn't run too long and she had just had dinner with her parents but he didn't want to run the risk.
"Snacks?" Anya asked, surprised. Damian motioned to the coffee table and she took note of the finger sandwiches and mugs of warm milk.
"Yeah, um, Emma mentioned you liked something called peanut butter and banana sandwiches?" he said the last part hesitantly.
"And Becky agreed that you love anything peanut so," Damian shrugged uncomfortably.
"And well, I always like warm milk when I have a bad day," he added, playing with his hair awkwardly.
"Oh!" Anya exclaimed in surprise. The fact that he had made such an effort for her was unexpected but nice. She glanced at his eyes, hoping to peek a view into his thoughts but the soft light of the fireplace was too low. Instead, she leaned forward and grabbed a plate and a mug.
"Thank you," she said once she settled, legs tucked in under her. Damian sighed in relief and grabbed his own plate and mug.
"You're welcome… You know, I've never had this before," he added, looking at the sandwich curiously.
"Oh, it's delicious," Anya replied, now excited, "Go on, take a bite."
Damian hesisted for a second but with another sigh, he bit into it, "Oh, wow, this is better than I expected."
"Told ya," Anya grinned wickedly and took a swig of the milk to wash down the bite she'd taken.
"How's the milk?" he asked, nervous again.
"Pretty good… But, is it me or does it have honey, cinnamon, and vanilla?" She asked, surprised.
"Um, yeah, that's how mum always makes it for me," Damian replied looking down. Anya grinned at that. Damian ignored the summersaults that his stomach was doing at finally seeing her smile so brightly again.
"Well, she has good taste," she teased and the back and forth began again. Not only had he been comforting her, but he was letting her in. Maybe there was still a chance to help her papa with his mission. Maybe she could still redeem herself. They stayed like that until the Prefect came around for the last check up of the night and sent everyone to bed. It wasn't until Anya reached her own room and glanced down at the piece of cloth in her hand that she realised he had just returned her handkerchief back to her. For some reason, the thought that Damian had been carrying it with him made her smile.