 Wowza!
In moments like these (which were very frequent, mind you) Willow felt exceedingly grateful that her last year at Hogwarts was slowly but surely coming to an end.
Working on a potion with a partner. A Love Potion, at that, and worst of all - with a boy.
Lovely.
And if Celandine's guess was correct, they'd have to try it on each other.
Insert her fuming here.
"Woodson Whitcomb," Called the seventh year after properly sulking about her future disgrace for at least five minutes. "You will be my partner." Because he did not have one, and, just like her, did not seem to be particularly happy about this class either.
Lightly, Willow raised one of her small and pale hands and crooked an index finger at him, motioning to come to her.
Well, if she was going to be forced to be obsessed with some boy at least it would not be with one that happened to look like a mountain troll.
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