Unsavible

Potions, Hogsmead, & Emotions

(Song only for very end of chapter)

Setting: Mid October; Slughorn's Potion class, 3rd person p.o.v.

     Slughorn gives his class a free period to the repeat seventh years, and assigns them to make a potion of which ever they please, Jemima sets to work the moment he stops talking. Within no time, she manages to brew the love potion, as well as the liquid luck potion. Once finished, she simply sits and observes her fellow classmates as they work: she watches as Draco and his friend group from over the years as they just sit, work, and talk as well as her brother and his friends as they just work quietly. By now just about every living person who knew her, has forgotten her, and almost everyone that's going to return has; only nine people are left who haven't yet. Jemima sits up straight from slouching over on the table as Slughorn approaches her table...

"What do we have here Ms-uhm-Ms..." he starts

"Wibble sir,"she mutters quietly, "the love potion as well as liquid luck sir."

"Two potions-oh my-you are quite talented aren't you Ms-uh..." he says with a smile, "do apologize dear girl; normally I'm very good with names..."

"It's alright sir," she says with a convincible false smile, "I don't blame you, I'm a very forgettable face."

Slughorn stares at in utter bewilderment that she even said this, he gives her an uneasy nod of his head, tells her good work and moves onto another table. Jemima pulls out two small viles once he's gone and pours a little of each potion into one of each bottle. After slipping both viles into her bag seemingly unnoticed, she proceeds to properly dispose of the rest; once cleaned up, she again continues to observe her surroundings. As she watches everyone else working, her gaze falls upon one other Slytherin whom is sitting by himself: Crabbe. Packing up her things, she then switches over to his table and plucks up the courage to speak...

"I've been told that I'm a good listener," she says quietly, "if you wanna talk about anything..."

"..." he stares at her

"No one really talks to me accept to get things off their chest," she adds, "I won't tell anyone, I promise..."

"I...kind of turned on my friends during the war," Crabbe says quietly, "now I don't really have any due to it..."

"Are you sorry for what you did?" She asks

"What?" He asks looking at her confused

"Are you sorry for turning on them?" She repeats, "do you regret it?"

"I was scared," he says quietly

"Everyone was scared," she whispers

"I thought I was backing the right side," he says, the regretful tears threatening to fall from his eyes, "I thought I was backing the winning side..."

"You and many others," she whispers

"Why was I brought back?" He whispers not really expecting an answer

"For a second chance..." Jemima replies all too quickly

"..." he stares at her

"If I had to guess," she adds on, "so you can repent-"

"Repent?" He asks confused

"Apologize, and ask for forgiveness," she clarifies, "and so you can try your hardest not to make the same mistakes you did before...course that's just my guess..."

"I don't think they'll forgive me," he says glancing over to the table where his old friends are, "not after what I did..."

"Have you even tried talking to them?" Jemima asks him