The washroom doorframe swayed precariously.
Exquisite stone walls were riddled with cracks and dents, gray-white powder and rubble scattered across the floor.
Picture frames that once hung on walls had vanished entirely, leaving only splintered wood and blurred marks.
The furniture suffered severe damage too.
Tables and sofas looked as if ravaged by wild axes, crisscrossing cracks and gouges everywhere, torn cushion feathers and curtain fragments scattered about...
Seeing the ruined devastation before her, Gemma Farley felt no relief whatsoever—instead, she was consumed by even stronger hatred and humiliated fury.
This wasn't merely disgust toward Tiger himself, but the collapse of some deeper dignity and belief.
"Damn you, Shelby, I'll definitely..."
She stubbornly bit her lower lip, letting painful, helpless blood stain her teeth, carrying hatred for Tiger and herself as she raised her wand again.
Sectumsempra's invisible light sliced through the air like a sharp blade, viciously striking the wardrobe.
The exquisite serpent-carved wardrobe collapsed with a thunderous crash, Tiger's clothes scattering across the floor.
A faint, familiar scent quietly permeated the air like invisible threads, tightly binding Gemma Farley's senses and soul.
Her tone of deep loathing faltered slightly, transforming into tender, lingering murmurs.
"I'll definitely..."
"Take all your clothes away."
The noble girl, completely drowning in surging love, lowered her wand and walked to the devastated wardrobe with an almost devout, gentle smile.
Tiger's suit linings, like scattered treasures, were gathered up by her and hastily carried from the dormitory...
To avoid the Slytherin portraits seeing her, Gemma Farley even cast a Disillusionment Charm on herself, not lifting it until she returned to her own potion-scented room.
Seeing the small suits hanging intimately beside her dresses in the wardrobe, the noble girl's pale face flushed unnaturally.
Her misty, greedy eyes sparkled with unprecedented brilliance—a complex emotion blending joy, attachment, sickness, and madness.
In this moment, Gemma Farley was no longer the rational, composed noble girl.
She was a prisoner completely captured by love, intoxicated in her own woven fantasy, unable to extricate herself...
(//ω\)
"AHHH!!! BASTARD!!!"
"VILLAIN!!! IDIOT!!! FILTHY LUNATIC! TOAD GROWING ON A TROLL'S NECK!!!"
"Incendio!"
Watching the clothes turn to ash in the fireplace, the girl who'd regained her sanity felt she was going mad.
"Scourgify!"
Her wand-gripping arm trembled violently.
Enchanting crimson spread from neck to cheeks, impossible to tell if from anger or shame.
Her lucid moments were too brief—Gemma Farley couldn't bear imagining what would happen if someone saw such an ugly side of her.
Bloody hell!
Why had she stolen the troll's clothes!
"Merlin's most rotten cauldron, how can something as disgusting as Amortentia exist in this world!"
"Damn Andorra Levitan!"
"I'll overturn your grave! Juice your horny bones and feed them to Shelby!"
After thoroughly cursing the love potion's inventor, Gemma Farley collapsed powerlessly onto the sofa, her wand falling to the carpet, rolling beside her delicate ankles.
"Jiji..."
A weak, tearless murmur arose.
Pop.
A house-elf in clean clothing suddenly appeared behind Gemma Farley, bowing deeply until its nose touched the ground.
"Great and wise Miss."
"Jiji awaits your commands at all times."
[Slytherins may express anger, but cannot express it angrily—anger solves nothing.]
Chaotic thoughts returning to reality, Gemma Farley took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down.
Her face, still bearing traces of intoxication, gradually recovered its usual cold pride.
"I need to see Professor Snape. Come with me and watch my expressions carefully."
Remembering her previous disgusting behavior, the noble girl covered her forehead in despair, saying hatefully:
"If anything abnormal appears, knock me unconscious and bring me back. Remember..."
"Never let anyone see!"
"But..." Jiji raised its head in panic. "Jiji cannot harm Miss..."
"That's an order!"
Gemma Farley shot to her feet.
Even she didn't realize her stern, cold tone contained a barely detectable note of pleading.
"If you don't knock me out, I'll die!"
Not just social death.
Gemma Farley would rather jump into the Black Lake than face others' strange looks...
In a trance, she seemed to see herself skipping lightly into the Great Hall.
Under everyone's gaze, tightly hugging Shelby's waist, standing on tiptoes demanding kisses and cuddles.
(Tiger: You know you're committing a crime, right?!)
(°д°)
She caressed Tiger's cheek, eyes full of tenderness and indulgence, like stroking a docile, honest big cat.
Indescribable satisfaction made her forget worldly troubles.
However, just as this sweetness was about to completely devour her, sudden heart palpitations struck like cold water.
Slap.
Gemma Farley viciously slapped herself, the flush on her cheeks quickly turning pale and transparent, her gradually blurring gaze instantly regaining clarity.
The previously intoxicating happiness now became a source of fearful trembling...
"No, no, no!"
"Miss, please don't hurt yourself!"
Jiji frantically grabbed Gemma Farley's sleeve, its bulb-like eyes filling with tears.
"Jiji will obey your command."
Such an order was torture for a house-elf—Jiji felt its heart being cut by knives...
Suppressing inexplicable grievance, Gemma Farley sniffled with reddened eyes, bent to pick up her wand, and said indifferently:
"Let's go..."
"Develop an antidote for Amortentia?"
"That's right. My family can provide any resources needed—they can be delivered whenever you require..."
After hearing the noble girl's words, Professor Snape's hollow, mocking eyes immediately darkened, his soul-piercing cold gaze fixing on Gemma Farley's slightly flickering eyes.
"Miss Farley."
"Has your head been boiled in a cauldron?"
"On the first day of term, I had you prepare Amortentia—not to drink it yourself..."
His low, rich voice carried a hissing quality, circling the dim potions office.
Nearby cauldrons still bubbled, the air flowing with various herbal fragrances.
They intertwined and merged, weaving a mysterious, elusive aromatic tapestry.
This scent, similar to her dormitory's, helped Gemma Farley's tense emotions relax considerably.
"My apologies."
"This was just a small mistake. The family's suppressants aren't very effective—I need your help..."
She admitted it openly.
Standing before her was the wizarding world's youngest, most excellent Potions Master—the only person she could turn to for help.
Having received Snape's potion notes, she could even be considered his half-student.
Gemma Farley didn't intend to hide any details.
"Miss Farley..."
After a moment's silence, Professor Snape gave a cold laugh and sat back at his desk.
"I'm afraid I haven't the time to help you."
He remembered the scent on male prefect Atlantis Boasted.
As a Potions Master, that faint, dreamlike fragrance was positively pungent to him.
But he never interfered with Slytherin infighting—as long as no one died.
He simply hadn't expected Gemma Farley to fall victim to Boasted's schemes. Utterly foolish!
~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~
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