He's late for class again. He's always late and that leaves me alone for the first five minutes of class to contend with the glowing smiles from Slughorn and the snarky looks from the crowd of Slytherins who all sit together in a cluster. Three girls unabashedly stare at me and make remarks to each other out of the corners of their barely parted mouths. I can't help it, my eyebrows jump and I shoot them a look of barely concealed contempt to which their lips start moving even faster before they titter in grating laughter. How I stop myself from sticking my tongue out, I don't know, but somehow I manage to turn around without behaving like a five year old. Some Ravenclaw boy clutching his books to his chest is cautiously approaching the desk next to mine and my eyes narrow into a glare causing him to turn abruptly and find another seat. I feel kind of bad but sorry mate, that seat's taken.

Sluggy's clearing his throat and his moustache is quivering at the front of the room so everyone quiets down. Wands away, this is a lecture, not a practical class, looks like we have to listen to an hour of old Horace going on about principles of potion making again. (Which we all know means that some rare ingredient that's needed for the potion we're supposed to be learning is on backorder and he's pulling this class out of his hat.) Cheek leaned against my hand and quill moving feverishly across the page as I take down notes, I feel like I could just fall asleep in the dank dungeon if not for the random intervals when Slughorn's voice suddenly elevates to a boom.

There's a short creak as the door eases open, followed by a soft thud as it closes and I sneak a look over my shoulder to see Potter making his way into the classroom. He slips between the row of desks, excuse me, excuse me, and slides into his seat with enviable grace.

"Took you long enough," I say in a low voice as I shoot him a furtive look from the corner of my eye.

"Why, d'you miss me?" he asks, not looking at me as he rustles through his leafs of parchment.

I scowl and continue writing. He leans in to read what notes he's missed and I'm entirely too conscious of how close he is. My hand keeps pushing my quill back and forth in lines, but my shoulders square up and freeze in place, not daring to move. He seems completely oblivious as his eyes narrow slightly and his lips move soundlessly while he reads what I've written. I've stopped writing all together and although I haven't moved my head an inch, my eyes have shifted towards him. Feeling my gaze he looks up and slowly leans back, giving me a curious look. I rub a hand over my face before bowing over my parchment yet again. Embarrassed, I look determinedly away from him, focusing with such intent that my nose nearly touches the page.

I steal a look at him and he's staring at me. Smiling. As if I'm amusing him somehow.

"What?" I demand haughtily.

He shakes his head and just keeps staring with that infuriating smile dancing on his face, and his arms crossed against his chest.

"Are you even going to take any notes?" I ask disapprovingly.

"I'll copy them off you later," he waves me off.

"Yeah, if I let you," I mutter threateningly.

He just smiles. I roll my eyes and turn my head. Everyone in the room is breaking out in hushed conversation and Slughorn hasn't even noticed. He's still bumbling around the front of the classroom, stuttering about the Draught of the Death and what we would be doing today if he had ordered the ingredients on time. The Slytherin girls are looking my way again and whispering vehemently. To be honest I can't tell if they're glowering at me or gawking at Potter. Either way, I can no longer resist the temptation to screw up my face and shake my tongue back and forth. I'll let them interpret that one as they will. Am I just making a funny face or am I insinuating that I suck face with Potter after class? Think about that one Slytherin girls. Ponder it.

"What are you doing?"

I turn my head toward Potter, trying my best to compose a vacant and inquisitively polite expression.

"Pardon me?"

"What in Merlin's name are you doing?" he asks again, craning his neck around me to try and see who I was looking at.

"Nothing," I huff, and wag my fingers at the Slytherins who are now wearing matching expressions of disgust.

James catches sight of them and snorts loudly.

"Did I say something humorous, Mr Potter?" Slughorn asks. "I didn't realize that the different methods of crushing sopophorous beans were so funny."

"Must be the way you tell it sir, you just have good comedic timing," James says.

Slughorn shakes his head and continues lecturing, his moustache twitching.

"How do you get away with everything?" I ask incredulously.

He shrugs and grins before leaning his chair back on two legs.

"You're going to fall on your arse, you know that?" I ask, eyeing his chair.

"Nope," he says with a smirk, "Perfect balance."

"Yeah, just like last Quidditch practise when you fell off your broom," I remind him, "That was some good poise."

"Not fair, you threw me off," he says defensively.

"Oh, did little Evans throw the Quaffle too hard?" I ask, blinking up at him innocently.

"I made the catch, didn't I?"

"Sure, but that doesn't change the fact that you fell down."

"Well maybe if your toss had been on target I wouldn't have had to reach so far."

"Please, my toss was dead-on and you know it."

"Harpy."

"Prick."

We're both staring each other down, daring the other one to laugh. I always lose this game. His eyebrows are furrowed but I can see he's trying to fight a smile off his face. I hope he can't see my lips quivering. I break first and start to snicker but it's not long before he does too.

The bell tolls and we both jump in our seats, James falling on his arse, just like I said he would. The Slytherins jeer as they hustle out of the classroom and I help Potter to his feet, shaking my head with a smirk.

"Oh shut up," he says as he collects his things.

"I didn't say anything," I insist as we walk out of the dungeons.

"Yeah, yeah," he waves me off again. "See you at Quidditch practise, tonight?" he asks eagerly.

"Sure, if you survive til then without breaking your arse."

He gives me a shove before taking off down the corridor, leaving me on my own again. Sodding Potter.