over the moon.
lovebcmbs:
potions has always been one of her stronger subjects, but this one in particular is a little more troublesome than josie expected. troublesome in the sense that she’s been returning to the same bathroom for the past four days and spending a good handful of hours trying to get the potion right. however, there is an upside to this in the form of her partner for this assignment.
not that staying cooped up in a bathroom til the late hours with a cauldron sitting between them is her idea of quality bonding time. but she’s never been one to really complain either.
gently dropping the ashwinder eggs into the simmering cauldron, she mutters a silent prayer in her head before brushing her hair out of the way and slowly stirring the opalescent mixture. “this has to work.” if not, she just might tear up the instructions she’s read over more than twenty times. setting down her wand, she watches the steam slowly spiral upwards, then looks across at blake. “did it finally work?”
—— closed starter for @blckekng.
it’s tricky. two consecutive terms of advanced potions with professor selwyn’s tendencies to stray from the norms and into his bag of tricks. four days is almost his longest record yet for one potion after the final assignment from last term. granted, the given time frame is much more generous for this assignment –– enough for some quiet indulgence in his partner’s company. a secluded bathroom with a leaky tap, it works almost like a clock when blake isn’t so focused on the way josie’s hair falls just over her shoulders.
ashwinder eggs. right.
a light sting at the heel of his palm when he reaches for the stirrer (courtesy of rose thorns), he slows for the addition of the final ingredient, watching as the concoction begins to bubble. the immediate noticeable difference from their previously failed attempts: the liquid isn’t congealing. a good sign, but he doesn’t want to jinx it yet.
“i hope so,” directs his gaze to the empty containers that have once held the essential ingredients to mark a point. “unless you want to burn through tomorrow sitting in this grimy bathroom again.” the proposition of spending another afternoon with her slips as a subconscious thought. a beat of silence follows, and he resumes the slow stirring. “as a last resort, we could turn in the rest of the results. i don’t reckon professor selwyn’s expecting anyone to succeed with this… treacherous recipe.” for god’s sake.
the effervescence fades, boiling down to stillness. blake picks up a piece of torn page of parchment, skimming through scribbled notes of various outcomes gathered from questionable sources. “someone said it might turn green first.” a pause, a closer whiff of the concoction. “is it supposed to smell burnt?”
