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and i sat watching a flower as it was withering, tag: RD - Severus

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Hestia Jones	Posted: Oct 16 2008, 05:37 PM
7th Year Prefect Group: Ravenclaw Posts: 43 Member No.: 29 Joined: 5-October 08	If she wasn�t quite so stubborn, she would have given up potions by now. If she wasn�t quite so hard on herself, even, she might not think it was such a bad class after all. Now, however, it was frustrating her more than she�d like to admit and she was quickly losing her temper with the thick green glop before her, which refused to darken into a deep blue no matter how many times she angrily re-read the text before her. It had all started way back in first year, though at this point she was in no condition to think about the origin of anything. She had simply been too nervous � after all, Potions seemed like a big deal. It was brilliant, all you could do with a potion. And if something went wrong, if they kicked her out of their world for some reason and took her wand (this had been a silent phobia for her during the first few years of school � absolutely terrifying, but growing less pronounced as time went on) then she could always take with her whatever knowledge she had collected from potions. The problem here was that she was always so sure that she had messed up the last step that she ended up brooding on that and therefore messing up the next step. She had done well enough on her examination � at least, here she was, still studying it on to sixth year, but she wasn�t at all pleased. In reality if she didn�t second-guess herself quite so often most of her problems would simply fade, but she had no time to notice such things � there was simply too much worrying to do about whether or not that herb had been chopped finely enough. In fact, now that she thought about it, it might have been too fine. Or maybe she hadn�t washed it well enough? Perhaps she shouldn�t have washed it at all, that might have added or taken away from something � even now she had to remind herself that muggle reasoning couldn�t be used. Any dirt that might remain on anything grown might be condusive to the potion. After all, the book hadn�t said to wash it and.. She was going mad. Positively mad over a stupid subject she should have gotten a hang of by now. With an annoyed groan, she slammed her hands on the table, starring ruefully at the mess in her cauldron. Sighing, she brought the heel of her hand to her forehead, pressing the dark bangs that were sticking there damply out of her face. Now free, her blue eyes lulled hopelessly at nothing at all, as she leaned back against the wall loosening the knot on her blue and silver tie.

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