A few hours after her meeting with Professor O Morain, it was late afternoon and Fauna had decided to brave the Potions dungeon and talk to Professor Vaillancourt. She knew little about the new professor save that she was young, beautiful, and French. Since she'd arrived, many of the boys in Fauna's year had shown a sudden dedication to the subject!

She knocked on Vaillancourt's office door, telling herself that if it went badly, at least she didn't have far to run to the Hufflepuff dorms. At the sound of the professor's voice, she walked in, hesitating by the doorway.

"Hi, Professor," Fauna gave her a shy smile. "Do you have a moment? I know I'm not in any of your classes, but well... I'm Fauna, by the way," she introduced herself with an awkward shrug.

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Juliette looked up from the stretch of eggshell parchment she was presently desecrating with a knife-sharp hawk's quill and scarlet ink. The thing looked horribly wounded, a battlefield of a fourth year essay, and yet it couldn't be helped. She liked to think she gave as much as effort as the students put in; but there were some, try as they might, who were just terribly dull and better off dropping the subject come N.E.W.T. years.

"Enter," she said softly, but loudly enough to be heard.

Fauna Blake was a girl she mightn't have known if it weren't for this whole werewolf support nonsense floating around the castle. Perhaps 'nonsense' wasn't the right word to attach to the administrative fiasco, but the Potions Mistress was, after all, near and dear to the Headmistress. (But then, she could not say she hadn't brewed her fair share of Wolfsbane in her time, and that most of the werewolves she knew, personally, were perfectly respectable when medicated.)

"Come in, Miss Blake, I know who you are," Juliette said, after a moment's appraisal. Eyes like her own, the teenager was unwittingly innocent in visage. And yet the woman knew better than to accept appearances as proof of harmlessness. (Was she not she just thinking of moon-whistling wolves and unmarked homework papers?) "Sit." Her eyes moved from the girl at the door, to the pair of empty seats before her desk, and back to the paper under her merciless quill. She cleared her throat. "But I'm afraid if you're looking for some sort of..." Juliette frowned. "Proponent for your little club, now is not the time to ask. I respect my Headmistress and her deputy."

Not to mention, she'd always had mixed feelings on subjects like these: half-humans. It was another matter entirely from blood. And the very same matter in one swift swipe of the claw.

She looked back at Fauna, eyes aglow with the sort of painfully, eternally patient impatience only a teacher could possess. (Or was it impatient patience? She was a patient woman in nature, in work, in ambition-- impatient with frivolity and tiresome topics.)

Fauna took her seat and smoothed out her skirt with the air of someone who was ready to jolt and run back to Professor O Morain (oh the irony) at the slightest sign of disapproval. Professor Vaillancourt had a cool, sophisticated manner that reminded Fauna a bit of Maeve or Vienna, except the woman wasn't smirking at her. Yet. She sneaked a glance at the parchment on the desk and raised an eyebrow. That was a lot of red ink. A road map that could only lead to Troll city.

When the professor commented on her little club, Fauna decided it probably wasn't a good thing that the Potions mistress knew of her. In the professor's eyes, she likely had a mark against her already.

Resisting the urge to cross her arms, Fauna straightened her shoulders and met her eyes.

"I'm not here about SAWS," she said slowly. "I'm here about the... possibility of studying Potions again," she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and paused. "I've talked to the Deputy Headmaster about switching some subjects around, and he said I could, but... I mean, I know that I'm really far behind. I stopped taking Potions after my fifth-year," she left out the part about failing her OWL, certain that if the professor was that curious, she would find it out for herself.

Fauna was prepared to explain why she wanted to study Potions, but she hesitated, hoping the professor would give some sign that she was willing to listen. Or at least set down her quill!

Juliette kept her eyes on the young woman, but if Fauna had apprehensions about her grading process, the Potions professor appeared not to notice, or was wholly not bothered. The Blake girl hadn't exempt herself from potions solely because Juliette was teaching it. No, that ship had sailed two years ago, long before the former perfumer had set foot in the stone corridors of the ancient stronghold of the Founding Four.

But it seemed she did come to discuss academics, and not some rebel's cause. That was truly a surprise, and it showed in the professor's face.

"Declan has allowed this?" She asked, before she could stop herself. She caught her breath and cleared her throat, straightening her shoulders. "Professor Ó Móráin," she corrected herself. "What a very generous man."

But, truth be told, Juliette was intrigued. Sure, she could blow through some poor sod's essay with her Judgment Day quill, but it was a rare treat to see the cowering and the humble pick themselves up, dust themselves off, and step out of the shadows to ask for help. It was... decidedly brave. And ambitious.

The redhead found herself smiling, lips twisted into a pleased little smirk. "Miss Blake, do you know what you are asking?" She laughed, her voice like silver. And then, more seriously, "I am not opposed to this-- not at all. But the work would be yours, you must understand. Some of the bitter babies in the castle would scorn me for it, but I do not introduce the O.W.L. system to students who are not ready for it, just as I do not let the lazy weasel their way into my N.E.W.T. courses. You might be clinging to your Helga Hufflepuff's mantra a week from now, begging its mercy on your soul," she warned. "But I will sleep soundly in any case."

Juliette stood up, rounding her desk, and sat on the end of it, legs crossed, stretched out in front of her. She was closer to Fauna now, and peered down at her in a new light, stack of graded and to-be-graded papers completely abandoned for the moment. "I have not heard a word of this from the Deputy Headmaster, and I know nothing of your arrangements with the other professors, but f I agree to this, you will agree to my terms and my schedule. You will take a Fifth Year exam of my choosing for practice, and so that I might evaluate where you stand-- you will do whatever independent study requires of you before I let you set foot into a Sixth Year class, or even a Fifth Year one. And when you do join the students, you will treat them as your peers, perhaps even your coaches. You realize some will laugh at you for joining them? You must have thick skin."

And thick skin, Juliette knew, was something to be admired. Perhaps it was because she saw bits of herself in the young woman, or maybe it was the inherent desperateness in Fauna's pretty, painfully innocent eyes-- but Juliette found herself immediately warming to the girl, though she'd hardly given her room to speak. If the Hufflepuff had been a boy, a slacker, even one of those ballsy Gryffindor types, Juliette might have soured to the mention of switching some subjects around. But something about this one told her that she wasn't doing it to please her parents or impress a boy. She was doing it for herself.

Wand tapping the desk beneath one hand, she smiled again. "Of course, this is not the every day request, so I am more than willing to offer you private lessons, too. But you will do the work yourself, and if it takes you all night, it takes you all night. I cannot hand you a Time Turner or go easy on your marks. You may well be here through summer, past your graduation. And this is all without even considering the burden of your real N.E.W.T. classes."

Finally, she returned to her desk, retiring to her chair like a cat on a sunny patch of garden. A claimed throne. "Why do you want to suffer so? There are many bright girls in my N.E.W.T. classes who couldn't be bothered to lift a quill in their last year of school. They'd rather enjoy the glory..." And suffer at minimum wage sixth months from now. "You are either a masochist or a very rare breed of witch."

Fauna's shoulders stiffened at the laughter. She edged forward in her seat, expecting to be dismissed, but then the professor began explaining how difficult this would be and that she'd have to agree to her terms. The woman abandoned her quill and papers and sat on the desk, and Fauna felt like the professor was finally seeing her as someone who might be worth a few minutes of her time.

She listened as Professor Vaillancourt spoke, and attempted to put on a polite and mature expression when all she really wanted to do was fidget and worry. And she did worry. There was a danger that she was asking for a favour she couldn't keep, and that once she started studying Potions again, she'd crumble under the pressure or fall short of the professor's (and her own) expectations. Just the thought of failing at this had kept her up at night and caused her to over-analyze her every decision.

But the thought of not trying made her feel even worse. She'd wonder 'what if'. All the work she'd put in so far, all the changes she'd made wouldn't mean as much if she settled for another option out of fear. Hadn't she barely scraped an 'A' in Defense just a year ago? Now she had a solid 'E'. She knew Potions and Transfiguration would be much harder, but not necessarily impossible.

As the professor's warnings made an impact, Fauna glanced away a few times, processing it all, and fiddled slightly with the hem of her skirt, but she managed to stay still for the most part and hadn't yet glanced at the door. If she showed doubt now, she wouldn't get the chance to try. She had to pretend to have a thick skin. Fauna wasn't looking forward to the fifth-years laughing at her. She hated the idea of retaking the fifth-year exam. But she looked at the professor and nodded, relieved and surprised when she offered private lessons. Hope won out over dread, for the moment.

Fauna offered her a small smile that faded slightly when the professor sat behind the desk and asked the expected question: why she wanted to do this. The professor had only known her for a few minutes. Beyond pegging her for a SAWS member, she didn't have the background knowledge of Fauna like Professor Frasier or Professor O Morain had. What she knew was what Fauna had demonstrated so far: politeness and patience. Now was the more difficult test: talking. Talking with some inkling of confidence.

She took a deep breath before she spoke. "I've been thinking about trying to get into Auror Training after I graduate. And they... strongly recommend good marks in Potions. So, if I can do this, I know I'll need time after I graduate to keep studying, but... I mean, I'll study as long as I need to. I just... don't want to skimp in any area. If they ask for a NEWT in Potions to even get into the training program, then that means my fifth-year level of it won't be good enough, and... I need to make sure I'm at the same level as everyone else."

Fauna paused, hoping the professor would understand and accept her reason.

Auror Training? Well, there was a curve quaffle. But maybe Juliette have seen this one coming. There were few professions worth backtracking over. The handful she could think of had more to do with Potions than anything else, but then, she was a biased little birdie, wasn’t she?

Ambivalent as she was toward the aurors-- on the one, they were sort of a necessary evil, and she did fully support her Headmistress’s policies, and on the other, their pesky inquiries could become... more than pesky... over time-- she found herself nodding. She supposed it was a career path worth losing sleep over. And who knew, maybe this little daisy from Hufflepuff would bring a fresh dose of anti-corruption to the ranks in red cloaks.

“Yes. You will need to know your antidotes as well as you know those freckles on your cheeks if you want to hunt down overlords and men trying to be the next Tom Riddle,” she conceded. “And you will also have to know the poisons those antidotes are meant to cure...” Her voice grew a little darker, a little fainter as she trailed off. “Even Love Potions can be lethal, Fauna Blake. Have no doubt.” Perhaps the most lethal of all, if those fifth year Slytherins who would soon be this girl’s new classmates had anything to say about it. “As far as our more... private... sessions are concerned... your goal will be to work your way to Vertiaserum by May, which is what the current crop of N.E.W.T. students have just finished. If you can brew that by the time you sit your exams, you mightn’t be a lost cause.”

“But the fifth years,” she continued. “Are back on the basics. You’re in luck, it seems. I’m trying to solidify their scope of identification of raw ingredients. Many of them seem only to gather the big picture. The devil is in the details. A cauldron with a dash too much of cinnamon can go from chai latte to homemade explosive in an eye’s blink, Miss Blake.”

The professor didn't laugh, but only nodded. Fauna finally relaxed a little, relief apparent on her face. Professor Vaillancourt explained that she'd need to know both the poisons and the antidotes, and all the potions in-between, which made sense, as much as Fauna dreaded doing it. This was why she was here.

She raised her eyebrows at the comment that love potions could be lethal, suddenly paranoid that the professor did know more about her than she'd thought and had heard something about her disaster of a relationship with Devlin. But Fauna shook her head, focusing on the next, more alarming comment: her goal was Veritaserum by May.

Oh, shite.

That made things start to feel very real for her. Fauna tried to push back the nervousness, the doubt, the feeling that she'd never, ever get to that advanced level. Especially by May. Merlin, what was she thinking?

Still looking a bit worried, Fauna glanced at the professor when she went on, talking about the fifth-years going back to the basics. Yes, the fifth-years... let's start with the fifth-years, and just ignore the impending doom of Veritaserum in a few months! Fauna, with a desperate kind of optimism, latched onto that news and nodded in agreement.

"I think... that's always been my problem," she admitted, her optimism faltering. "The details. I always seem to measure something wrong, or look at the wrong line, or misunderstand the instructions. And then the timing... I rush through it, or go too slowly, or get too focused on one thing that I forget to check if the cauldron is bubbling over."

Fauna's face flushed. That kind of methodical, step-by-step process often confused her. There was so much you had to do at once, just right, in a certain way and the correct order. Her mind hopped from place to place and her strength was in thinking outside of the lines, which didn't seem very well-suited to decent Potions work. Advanced potions did require creativity, quite a bit of it. But she first had to learn the basics, the rules, the foundations to follow to build on what she knew and get to that point.

Juliette knew as much. She needn't know a student well to know that it was the details that were the downfall, 90 percent of the time. "Yes, but if you know why each ingredient acts the way it does-- if you begin to understand the elements, which are their own big picture for all their smallness, the details will be learned and not forgotten." It was how potioneers like Juliette had come to blindly brew nasty substances like Polyjuice in the dark. It was a circle, from the basics, to the details, and finally back to the basics again where the finished product was concerned. So many teachers seemed to overlook, it was a wonder half of the students in her N.E.W.T. classes had come so far. No need to tell them that, though.

"But at least you can admit your weaknesses. That is a start." But Hufflepuffs were meeker than some, Juliette had come to learn. If nothing else, they were not too brash. "Do you have other questions?" Juliette studied the girl, ignoring the pink in her freckled cheeks as if it were a product of sweltering cauldrons that had yet to be set to flame. "What are your Tuesday and Thursday nights like, after dinner? I hold detentions then, and you can just as well study with me while I'm disciplining wayward children while you can when it's only the two of us. Maybe they'll learn a thing or two themselves, if Merlin ever existed."

Elements. That made sense, and sounded encouraging as they sat there talking about it. Fauna still worried that once she was standing in front of a cauldron, all those words and theories would slip away until she was a nervous mess and caused an explosion.

There was hope, however. The professor seemed to understand where she was coming from.

"I'm free Tuesdays and Thursdays after dinner," she said brightly, trying not to think about the wayward children Professor Vaillancourt mentioned. No doubt the 'unique' group of first-years.

"Thank you for doing this, professor," Fauna added, realizing she hadn't thanked her yet. Private tutoring was much more than she could have hoped for when she'd first walked in.

"I still have my cauldron and other materials from fifth-year. Should I bring anything else?"

"Well, it's settled then." Juliette studied the girl again, up and down, but with a curiouser eye than before. If the motley crew that comprised Juliette's detentions were not a put-off, Fauna Blake might prove less mousy and more hungry than she let on. "Bring only your cauldron and tools. We'll need to replenish your stores with fresher ingredients... though of late..." Juliette trailed off, no desire to linger on the mess that was the recall. She changed her direction as swiftly as a hawk. "Bring me your old book and I'll sort it, or you can order this year's Fifth Year book discounted now that the year's almost over. Your version should be useful for theory, but every so often they change the page numbers around so that students need to buy new books. This year was one of those. It will be impossible to keep up with the other fifth years when they're following brewing instruction from a specific page. I can fix it pretty quickly," she promised, tapping her wand on the desktop.

"If you have no questions, you may go. I'll see you soon enough."