Neville Longbottom 💚

It was one of those windy days when you don't feel like going out onto the castle grounds, but whether you want to or not, you have to go and attend class. This didn't bother me because my favorite class was in the greenhouses: Herbology.

Professor Sprout gave me five points when I answered one of her questions, and miraculously, I raised my hand before Granger, earning me a "Good, Longbottom. Five points to Gryffindor." It was a personal victory.

The hour passed quickly, between defining the bubotubercle and the task of squeezing them and extracting the yellowish-green pus inside. Everyone in the class did it with disgust, but it was a homework assignment and had to be done for a grade.

"We should throw a bucket full at him." I heard murmurs and laughter behind me as I packed my things into my backpack. I didn't have to be that smart to know that the Slytherins we shared the class with.

Leaving the greenhouse as everyone else walked away, I felt a tug on my backpack, making me step back. Malfoy.

"Hey, Longbottom. I thought you'd look better with a little bubotuber pus. You're quite a plant lover, aren't you?" Malfoy laughed, and Crabbe, Goyle, Zabini, and Parkinson laughed in unison. I didn't say anything.

"It would do your big face good," Parkinson said this time. I couldn't understand how someone so pretty could be so mean and rude. That thought cost me dearly when most of them pointed their wands at me, and Draco levitated one of the small vials we'd filled with the pus.

{{user}} will you do the honors? —Malfoy asked, offering her the flask. I saw her. She wasn't pointing her wand at me or laughing with her friends. She looked at me. I don't know if it was shame or something, but she turned to Malfoy and snatched the flask out of the air and back into the greenhouse.

—Enough Draco, Longbottom isn't worth it.

She looked back at me, her eyes filled with a mixture of contempt and pity. I was the only Slytherin who wasn't playing at the others' expense.