I love your demons like devils can

The name is Lysander Scamader. Ravenclaw, Quidditch Captain, Dominus.

[ravenlysander-blog]

albusfreakingpotter:

 “And have you now? What’s the conclusion so far?” he asked, simply wanting to know how Lysander viewed him. Not that he expected a truthful and honest answer, but maybe he’d end up being surprised. “Couldn’t you charm the paint?” he asked, wondering if he’d missed something throughout the conversation that said it had to be a potion. Sure, he’d found some potions that did those things, but if he could charm the actual paint, it seemed like it would skip a million or so steps. Lysander pointed out that he didn’t need paintings or spells to already get Albus to do what he wanted and while that was true, he still didn’t want to be controlled through magic. “I’d rather choose to do what you ask of my own free will than be forced into it by magic, though,” he shrugged, not sure that it really mattered in the long run. He rolled his eyes when Lysander mentioned having to give up childish things. It was hard to give something up if you never got them. “We were all forced to grow up the second we started to walk. No one got a real childhood - so why shouldn’t we take the small opportunities to have fun for fun’s sake when we get them? You’re still in school - you’re not doomed to complete adulthood quite yet,” he teased, squeezing one of Lysander’s sides playfully. He pushed himself up so that he was leaning on his elbows while he watched Lysander move across the room, already mourning the loss of his heat and weight. But he quickly grinned when he watched him take the potion and as Lysander moved to stand in front of him, Albus’s hands eagerly found Lysander’s hips. “’ve never been in front of one,” he answered, thoroughly distracted by the perfectly rough hand against his jaw. Thank Merlin for Quidditch and handsome fit Quidditch players. “That’s on the Dominus curriculum, not ours. And I never felt the need to seek one out.” Which was unlike him since he was always hungry for knowledge. But part of him was afraid to see what he was truly afraid of. “What’s yours?”

“The conclusion would take a very long time to explain, I don’t want to waste your high on it,” he dodged smoothly, not eager to divulge any of what he really thought. Albus was more clever than most of the Dominus he had met, and he knew the day he turned on him was inevitable, but Lysander planned to have him locked in with a bizarre combination of blackmail and loyalty when he tried. “Charms aren’t my strong suit, but I’m sure I could find a way. I’m more likely to get it perfect with potions, and whether I soak it before I paint or after wouldn’t really matter. It would have the same effect.” With thoughtful hum, he tipped Albus’s head up towards him a little more so it wasn’t casted in shadow, relishing being taller than him for at least half a minute. “That’s the draw of it for me too, so you don’t have to worry. Doing something because you choose to is where all the power lies.” With the right charm he could force anyone to do anything, but Albus chose to listen and it was always an addicting thing when he did. That train of thought brought him to an even darker one, because Albus might be smart but he was also defenseless in so many ways. “Have you ever gotten resistance training for the Imperius curse?” Lysander’s mouth turned in a half smile at Albus’s thought, a sweet and boyish one. Childish moments were fine, but children didn’t accomplish any of the things he wanted to, and he felt like until he did there would always be a restlessness that he couldn’t shake. “Does this room have alcohol stashed anywhere?” When it seemed Albus only wanted to use mouths for talking just then, Lysander took the free side of the bed, stretching out so he could stare up at the ceiling while he thought it over. “Aren’t you curious? Mine....it turns into a wall and starts pressing in. I almost got crushed the first time. I’ve always hated tight spaces, so it probably has something to do with a fear of a lack of control, too. My best guess, anyway.”

[haunted-violet]

“I don’t know what you’re possibly talking about. But maybe it’s because I lose so infrequently, I can’t really tell you how I act when it happens.”

“I never thought that you’d want real money. I dunno if I’d be willing to so directly contribute to your ego. I think I’d run out of compliments.”

[ravenlysander-blog]

“Of course you win the majority of the time - those other two houses are shit on the field.”

“I can draft up so ideas for you, if you lack the creativity.”

[littlealicelongbottom]

“That is possible, sir.” She paused. “Thank you.“

[ravenlysander-blog]

“You’re very welcome. Can I walk you to wherever you’re going?”

[albusfreakingpotter-blog]

“You could have asked,” he pointed out. “I usually do whatever you want.” Except for that one time he’d said no but that had been a very isolated incident. Otherwise, he always did what Lysander asked of him or wanted from him. Being painted would have been one of the easier things he’d agreed to.  He wrinkled his nose slightly at the mention of trying to use a Polyjuice potion to help specify who the magic was or wasn’t for but that didn’t seem like the easiest way. “What about a snitch? I mean, not an actual snitch but something similar to their flesh memories? You could figure out how those work and tweak it so that it only needs the person’s presence that it’s already programmed for to trigger it. If you wanted it to be a specific painting, though. Also be aware I never want to see one of your paintings first hand now. Through mirrors only,” he teased. It wasn’t like this made Lysander any more or less dangerous than he had been before - he’d always been deceptively dangerous and Albus had to keep hoping that he never felt like turning it towards him. His fingers dug lightly into hard flesh before brushing over it, tracing patterns and drawing pictures against the overly warm skin of Lysander’s stomach. He was pretty sure he could do nothing but that for the next several hours and he’d be more content than he could remember recently being. “What’s so wrong with acting like a child?” he asked. It wasn’t like he’d even really gotten much of a childhood, so he’d take it where he could get it. Adulthood came too quickly and he was happy to avoid that part of his life for as long as possible. “I’m not going to jump by myself, that sounds boring. I’ll keep touching you instead,” he hummed happily as his hands continued to move with no real intent other than to feel. “Next time you freeze me, you should use this potion instead of the Pepper-Up - I’ve never felt so warm in my entire bloody life.”

[ravenlysander-blog]

“I know. I hadn’t made up my mind about you.” Lysander answered truthfully. It was a process he was still undergoing, but at least he knew Albus wasn’t going to jinx him in the middle of it. “Snitches are charmed for flesh memories. I’m not sure how I’d be able to replicate that with a potion, but I could figure it out. I’ll look into it. Thank you.” The talk had been helpful in giving him a few avenues to follow, even if he hadn’t figured out the practical use of such a painting yet. If it couldn’t be used to his advantage, he could sell it to a more creative individual for a profit. “We just established that I don’t need a painting to compel you to do something. I wouldn’t get squeamish now.” His breath hitched in surprise as fingertips dug into his muscles, tensing against the touch before relaxing. This current technique was making him want to do some very adult things, so he was surprised when the conversation took yet another swerve. “I enjoy the whimsical sentiment, but there comes a time to put away childish things.” At least it was true in the world they lived in - everyone in his generation had to grow up fast if they wanted to mentally survive. “I will take that into consideration the next time I need any freezing practice. Now. Hold tight.” He hopped off the bed and went to his bag to get out another vial and downed it, the instant feeling of basking in the sun coming over him along with the taste of butterscotch. Just a few weeks ago he had abandoned him in the oversized bath because he was afraid of Albus drowning him, and now he was willingly slowing his reflexes and lowering his inhibitions. Casting around for another question to get him more dirt on Albus. Thinking was suddenly much harder as he stood next to the bed, fingers tracing the outline of Albus’s jaw. “What form does a boggart take around you?”

[haunted-violet]

“I’d rather just take the quidditch fans with grace and dignity, thank you very much.”

“I’m not worried about melting the cauldron–I’m worried about getting a score on my O.W.Ls that won’t make my dad’s head spin.” She hummed at his offer, a short consideration.·“I think I could find someone to do it for free.”·

[ravenlysander-blog]

“I’ve never seen you lose with grace. Winning sure, but never losing.”

“You get what you pay for. I don’t deal in money anyway. You’d have to pay me in alcohol and compliments obviously.”

[littlealicelongbottom]

“I don’t believe I have, sir.”

[ravenlysander-blog]

“Maybe you have and you just weren’t able to pick up on it.”

[albusfreakingpotter-blog]

“Not better than you,” he agreed with a small nod of his head. He was surprised at Lysander’s response about watching him paint, not able to keep it from his face in time. “You’d want to paint me?” he asked, wanting to make sure he heard correctly. “I’ve never been painted,” he said stupidly. Obviously he’d never been painted. Hell, he’d barely ever even been photographed. Of course, there was a chance that the entire point of the painting would be to make some point about him as a slave or have it so that he could burn it or sell it to someone else who would want to burn a Potter Portrait, but it still sounded tempting either way. “Okay,” he said with a grin, excited by the prospect. Plus that meant more time with Lysander and while that had used to simply be something he put up with, he found he was looking forward to it more and more with each passing day. He listened with intense interest as Lysander spoke about the paintings, trying to absorb every small bit of information as his hands continued to idly move through Lysander’s hair, mesmerized and slightly calmed by the feeling. “Would be hard to control who saw it, wouldn’t it? Hard to control who the painting would reach out to. Though depending on what it did, it wouldn’t matter. Could you make it so that it only effected certain types of people?” he asked curiously. He was confused by the noise that Lysander made before he remembered all of the times he hadn’t been allowed to touch his hair. Which usually wasn’t a problem since Albus was typically on his knees anyway. “I promise I won’t mess it up,” he said quickly before dragging his hands reluctantly out of it anyway, large hands trailing down Lysander’s hot-to-the-touch throat and neck before quickly moving them from there, not wanting Lysander to feel threatened in any way. Instead he moved them to a safer place as he pushed up the hem of Lysander’s shirt and sprawled his fingers over hard abs, simply needing to touch. “Why can’t we jump on the bed? When’s the last time you did that? It’s fun and this bed seems perfect for jumping,” he tried to argue, not willing to pass the opportunity up. He pulled his lip lightly between his teeth at the question before releasing it, trying to figure out the answer for himself. Sure, at first it all had been nothing but pretending - but the lines seemed to be getting increasingly more blurred. And when he wasn’t high out of his mind, he was going to have to reevaluate this whole thing. “This is the least amount of pretending I’ve done in a long time,” he finally settled on. “Now….jump on the bed with me,” he said, bright smile returning. “Or take some of that potion and then you’ll definitely want to jump on the bed.”

[ravenlysander-blog]

“I’ve wanted to paint you for a very long time,” he admitted, though it wasn’t the romantic statement it might appear at face value. He got the urge whenever color or lines were interesting, or when he wanted to capture a feeling or make sense of something. Now he’d have a nice distracting thought sitting in his brain until he got to it, constantly thinking about what lighting or what pose he wanted for Albus when he should be focusing on other things. Like the potion still happily brewing away for the next three weeks that would tie Albus to him tighter than ever. Lysander liked having a pulse on what was happening with the Servus, even if the other wizard never divulged much to him. “It would take multiple attempts, sure. I’d have to control where it was hung and who say it, and I’d have to master getting it to work at all before I could tailor it to individual people. There’s a chance I could study the Polyjuice potion and see if there was a way to target one specific person through hair. Or protect one person in the same manner,” he trailed off thoughtfully, glad to finally have a member of his own house as a sounding board to help him. At his noise he felt Albus’s hands slip out of his hair and he immediately regretted it, somehow as eager for the touch as someone under euphoria’s effects. Strong hands drifted over his throat but he didn’t tense for a second, though he let out a satisfied hum as his shirt was pushed up and out of the way as palms pressed against his abs. One of the benefits of being such a control freak on the pitch was that all the extra hours of intense practice left him toned and tan. And his team only sometimes resented him for it. “You can jump on the bed. I have plenty of books to distract me while you act like a child,” he allowed. With the dizziness still in play Albus would probably end up launching himself off the bed, but he could heal whatever new injuries he got. “Good,” he breathed softly, momentarily satisfied with the answer. If the opportunity to eat or drink came up anytime soon, he was still slipping him truth serum. “No, I’m having fun watching you be an idiot with no potion.”

[littlealicelongbottom]

“I apologize, sir. I will get out of the way.”

[ravenlysander-blog]

“You have clearly not been hit on very much in your lifetime.”

[haunted-violet]

“Excuse me for not thinking her worthy of deity worship. Not all of us have crushes on her.”

“That’s much easier said than done–you know that, right?” She had been trying to get her grades up…but it was hard to be enthralled when the subject when she found her interests piqued in other, more pressing concerns. She’d fallen behind somewhere along the line and was worried that it was too late to catch up. “It was in my third year!” She argued with a huff, though there wasn’t much bite to it. “It traumatized me–I think that’s why I’m no good with the subject.”

[ravenlysander-blog]

“You’re excused. When you rise to potions master and head an entire house, I’m sure everyone will be chasing you down. Not that avid Quidditch fans aren’t already there.”

“If you ever need a Potions tutor, let me know. I come at very reasonable rates. Plus you have to have an updated cauldron by now, and pewter is near impossible to melt.”

[ravenlysander-blog]

albusfreakingpotter

“I’m already better,” he said, though he hadn’t meant it in a cocky way despite it sounding like that. But Albus knew where his intelligence was, he knew what magic he was capable of. He’d surpassed many of the Dominus, he was sure, especially if he was ever allowed to get his hands on an actual wand. “You paint,” he repeated quietly, trying to fit that into the image of Lysander that Albus had in his head but having a hard time with it. “You should show me sometime. I want to see your paintings. No,” he corrected quickly, “I want to see you paint,” he said with a grin. Something about painting made Lysander seem so much more human than he already did and Albus laughed lightly to himself at the thought. He thought about what Lysander was saying, about the paintings that could do things and he quickly searched his mind for plants that he knew. “It’d be like an Imperio Imperata,” he said warmly, pretty sure that was a grass that was used in some potion somewhere. Or maybe it was only a normal grass. Either way, he liked the slight alliteration, despite how terrifying the thought of paintings that could control you was. He grinned when Lysander’s weight settled on top of him - warm, warm, so bloody warm and soft and perfect - and his hands automatically reached up to run slowly through Lysander’s hair. “Bloody fuck, how do you get this so soft?” he asked, momentarily distracted as the silky long locks fell through his fingers again and again. “I….sort of. It’s sort of a real place. Each family has a room - we had a bigger one. When we were young my parents did a few charms to give us the illusion of having our own space in that room. This was mine. Or what I always pretended mine was like. It wasn’t this fancy or big or…I mean, there were no books. But I pretended. Made things easier. This is what I decided to see when I was there. Do you want to jump on the bed? We should jump on the bed.”

“Not better than me.” Lysander had years of opportunities Albus never got, but at least he knew if push came to shove he could beat him in a duel and most challenges based in wit, plus anything to do with potions. Albus was a terrific pet but one day he was going to turn rabid and bite. “I paint,” he repeated, watching the curve of Albus’s eyelashes every time he blinked with utter fascination. “If you’ll be my subject. You’d look divine on canvas.” Lysander was glad Albus seemed to be out of his wits, otherwise lying on top of him on a bed wuld have felt tragically domestic. That’s why he kept it to public places, quick and dirty classrooms with stone that would make Albus’s knees feel it for days. Lysander nodded lightly at the assessment, always surprised by his level of knowledge. The book that spoke of them didn’t give specifics about potions, and the aged yellow pages that stuck together with every turn spoke of how out of date it was. Lysander would have to start creating his own potions if he wanted any results. It was what he had always wanted to do, but it wasn’t something he had ever dabbled in. He improved upon existing potions, sure, but this was a whole new game. “Exactly. That as the base, stewed down for a few hours will help with the compelling. Wormwood essence paired with Salamander blood will protect it from damage if anyone tries to destroy it. I can shakily follow the outline of the potion that makes photographs move. Just a system of guess and check.” He made a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat when Albus traced large hands through his hair, but didn’t move away from the charged touch. When did he start letting him touch his hair? There were distinct memories of him always shoving his hands away so he wouldn’t mess it up. “Sleakeazy’s hair potion with a few drops of avocado oil. You should try it.” Lysander knew he was lighter than Albus and wouldn’t be able to keep him down for long, but he was enjoying the new string of information. “We’re not jumping on the bed. You seem to do a lot of pretending. Are you pretending with me?”

[ravenlysander-blog]

“OWLs, NEWTs, do any of them really matter? I mean for me? They don’t,” he shrugged off with a wave of his hand, the air feeling amazing moving through his fingers - amazing enough that he did it again. Merlin, he wished those tests mattered - he wished any of his grades or intelligence mattered. “A slave with poor test scores is still a slave. Doesn’t make a difference,” he admitted.  Not that that ever stopped him from trying his absolute hardest in all topics and classes. “You’re an artist?” he asked, though he felt like he’d heard someone mention that before. But they never quite made it back to Lysander’s dorm and it wasn’t like they sat around sharing stories about themselves with the other. He considered Lysander’s question about what he’d been thinking of and he honestly couldn’t remember, couldn’t pinpoint any one thing. He’d been dizzy and warm and happy for the first time in a long time and the realization that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been truly happy had hit him hard. Apparently that had translated itself to home and he supposed he really did need that. The feeling of belonging somewhere, of being loved and accepted - all things he certainly never got at school. It was hard to stay quiet and thoughtful though when every small movement shot out sparks of pure pleasure through every expanse of his skin and he let out a happy laugh simply at the feeling.  “I don’t really require anything so I guess it defaulted to this,” he said turning around with a grin. “Although I wouldn’t mind that bloody bed. Mine is shite,” he said before moving over to it and falling back on top of it, bouncing a few times before settling. “This is the most comfortable thing in the fucking world. You have to try it out,” he said, settling even deeper into the soft cushion of it. It felt like clouds. If clouds felt how they looked instead of actually being water.

“Course they matter. They’re grades. They make you sharper, they force you to be better.” The entire point of giving them shit wands and limited textbooks and classes was to make sure the Servus class never had proper magic at their disposal. Their was a very low ceiling for Albus’s potential and based on the brief glimpses he had gotten of stronger magic, the boy had already passed it. It was against his very nature to tout grades as useless in any case. It was good to see he wasn’t currently having an existential crisis over it as his overly large hands swiped through the air a second time with a sordid little smile. “I paint. It’s widely regarded as a useless talent but I’ve been scouring the library and there are potions that could make it a dangerous hobby. Portraits that can make you angry, landscapes that compel you to do certain things.” Lysander drifted through the room, feeling the fabric of drapes that framed a window that looked into nowhere and opening randoms books on the shelf. If this was his default than it was somewhere important. It couldn’t be Albus’s bedroom; too nicely decorated for that. When Albus fell backwards on the bed with a soft sound, Lysander moved forward as though pulled by a magnet, pressing Albus into the bed with his own body weight even though there was plenty of room beside him. “Is this after a real place?”

[ravenlysander-blog]

“Well, that flawless goddess is ruining what used to be a decent grade. I’m not worried about it, but…professors always like me,” she asserted with a pout.

She groaned at the mention of melted cauldrons, and shook her head in a vehement denial. “That only happened once,” she lamented miserably. “I can’t help that I’m better with spells over brewing. I can make it through life without potions–I just won’t become a potions master, it’s easy enough to avoid.”

“Do not say it like that, I can practically hear the quotation marks in your voice,” he grinned, though he knew he was biased. Childhood crush coupled with head of his house and professor of his favorite class meant she had transcended to mythical status in his mind. “If you do your work well she’ll grow to love you, and your grade will be up in no time.”

“You didn’t,” he paused, raising an incredulous eyebrow. “You melted a cauldron? Time to go back to remedial classes.” Lysander’s voice was light and teasing, though if she chose to be offended it wasn’t something that would bother him. “Just because your house in general has a hyper obsession with potions doesn’t mean everyone needs to see it that way. Good spellwork will take you further.”

[ravenlysander-blog]

He shook his head no. He’d never been there before. He’d heard plenty of stories, though - was pretty sure he knew how to get in. “I would never fail my OWLs,” he said matter of factly, as if the idea was completely absurd. He laughed at the troll comment as he looked over at the painting of a troll that signaled they were supposedly in the right place. “I’m way better looking than a troll,” he said with a purposeful look back at the painting. He let out a slow breath as he stared at the blank wall in front of him. “Pass three times right?” he asked, but he knew that was correct. Simply from his dad’s stories he knew that was right. So he walked in front three times before a door appeared and he grinned happily to himself, glad he’d managed. He opened the door and held it open, waiting for the other to pass. “Dominus first,” he said cheekily before following him inside. And much to his surprise, it looked like his room at home. Only not his actual room. It’s what he imagined his room would have looked like had they not lost the war and been forced into slavery and a super tiny living quarter. Of course, his bed was a little bigger and comfier looking than he would have ever wanted but that was probably because Lysander always looked so hot. “Huh,” he said, looking around, a little weirded out by the whole thing. The only thing he could think of that could have spurred it were all the arguments with his siblings lately and his wish that things had been different. He walked over to a bookshelf, one he currently owned but was empty. This one was filled with books and he ran his fingers over all the spines.

The euphoria was distracting him from more than pain, if his disregard for facts was any indication. “You’ve already taken your OWLs, crazy. You can’t fail them. It’s the NEWTs you have to worry about.” Lysander nodded in agreement as he eyed the painting of the troll, gentle impressionism but the brushwork was too perfectly uniform to be painted by hand. It had to be magic. He was probably one of the only wizards in the castle who valued his odd assortment of hobbies: training to be an Animagus and painting at the forefront of them. Now that Albus was drugged, it would be that much easier to convince him to sit for a painting. Sitting still for a painting would be a different story. “Far prettier than that slug. I’m a better artist too.” Lysander graciously walked forward first, his gait a little wary since the light inside was dim and it took him a second for them to adjust. Instead of some nefarious plan, the room looked normal. Cozy but sleek, the bed front and center and looking mysteriously inviting. He made sure the door was shut and locked once Albus had wandered inside, setting his bag down on a nearby side table. “What were you thinking of?” Based on Albus’s reaction, it seemed like a replica of a place he knew, not something he was trying to conjure up. That was more mirror of Erised than something the room would give him and his brow furrowed in confusion before he realized the heartbreakingly obvious. Some part of his did need this, down to his bones, down to his subconscious. Instead of bringing it up he stood quietly unnoticed, waiting to see what a very out of it Albus would do with the space.

[ravenlysander-blog]

He was prepared to let Lysander’s hand go as soon as he was standing, but once he was up that seemed like a stupid idea. Instead, he ran his fingers over Lysander’s palm, marveling at how soft and incredibly warm it was in his own and Merlin, had it always been so much smaller? Or was Albus that much of a freakish giant? It didn’t matter because the skin felt good against his own but after a moment he managed to snap out of it, shaking his head lightly as he reluctantly let go. At least until they were somewhere more private where Lysander might not mind so much. “I didn’t have class,” he offered up so that Lysander didn’t think he’d been skipping. “I’d been on my way to do extra credit and decided to be stupidly helpful instead,” he said with a small laugh, most of the annoyance at the situation fading away. He grinned at the mention of Lysander walking funny as he followed the other boy’s lead to the Room of Requirement. “I’d say I’m sorry but….,” he said with a somewhat proud shrug. “I bet your arse looks just as great when you’re walking funny. Especially when it’s my doing,” he hummed happily.

He knew that the two potions together would be a potent combination, but he didn’t know it would lead to immediate hand holding. It didn’t last for very long but it pulled an involuntary shiver out of him, not from any sentimentality but because every touch from Albus seemed hungry. “Have you been here before?” Lysander asked, curious to see if he knew how to open the room once they got there. “I figured. Ravens don’t know how to miss a class. What if one missed class contains so much vital information that you’d fail all of your OWLS if you didn’t show?” Albus didn’t seem steady on his feet yet, but it was the trade off for no pain or nausea. “Don’t look so pleased. You’re practically a troll, it was bound to happen,” he pointed out, pulling Albus’s elbow to get him to stop in the right place before stepping backwards and out of range. “Go for it.” If all that was on his mind was sex, the room would respond predictably. Otherwise it would be an interesting glimpse into his psyche.

[ravenlysander-blog]

Albus took the vial, studying the potion the best he could. Merlin, this was going to be a disaster if it was what he thought it was. “None for you?” he teased, knowing he’d feel better if he wasn’t the only one. Still, at Lysander’s command he threw it back and the pleasant warmth he’d heard about was almost instant, spreading quickly from his chest to his fingers and toes and suddenly he didn’t really care that he was dizzy because Lysander was there and holding his hand out for him. He took it with a grin as he pulled himself up, stumbling only slightly from the after effects of the dizziness draught. “Yes good where’re we going? And that’s your fault. You did some sort of vanishing act,” he said, nudging Lysander’s hip lightly with his own.

“None for me,” he repeated, lips curling into a smirk. Even when he was dizzy and stumbling down, Albus was onto him. Later when he was positive that Albus didn’t have a weird or murderous reaction to the potion, he might imbibe. He helped pull Albus up, making sure he didn’t immediately fall down or into the wall and give himself more bruises. “Room of Requirement. It’s close enough and I’m not dragging you through the common room like this, even if it’s the middle of the day and every single Raven is in class.” As a rule, their house didn’t skip. The few who had free periods used them in the library, and didn’t snap out of school mode until after their last class. “No vanishing act. I just needed a few days to recover from you. Walking funny constantly isn’t my style.”

[ravenlysander-blog]

His idea of being made feel better was clearly different than Lysander’s since he was pulling out leaves and potions instead of, well…doing other things. He glanced between the two, trying to get his focus as much as possible to try to identify what his two options were. He wasn’t completely sure what the leaves were but the color of potion was one of only a few options, none of which were particularly harmful to him. He wasn’t really left with an option to not choose one and he didn’t want to fight Lysander on it when this was his first time seeing him since the last time he’d said no. “The potion,” he said gesturing towards the yellow draught in the vial. And if , for some reason, it was harmful…well…Lysander had healed him from something he hadn’t done so hopefully he’d heal Albus again.

Lysander almost reached for a second vial before deciding he wanted a clear head for this. He opted for a clear head for most things. It meant he was frequently the smartest in the room, but it was exhausting never getting a mental break from everything. “Bottoms up,” he instructed, packing the rest of his items into his bag. With a quick glance to either side to make sure no one was around to see him touching a Servus, he held his hand out for Albus. “And then let’s get out of here. We have some catching up to do.”

[ravenlysander-blog]

Lysander always left decent bruises, usually in not awful ways and in not awful places. A bruise on his face from hitting the table wasn’t pleasant or acceptable in any way. “My soul likes not being bruised, thanks,” he said with a small pout, trying not to actually tense up at the thought of Lysander’s statement. He knew it was stupid to trust Lysander so much, but he’d never earn the Dominus’s trust if he didn’t give his own. The more he gave the more he got and while that meant compromising himself, it was worth it in the end. Hopefully. He tightened his eyes closed as he finished with the leaves, waiting for the room to stop spinning but it never fully did. “Still dizzy. Less so, though. More like I had too many drinks now,” he explained. It was much more manageable than it had been before at least. “Thank you,” he said with a breath of slight relief. “Unless that was poison you gave me, in which case, I’m going to have fun haunting you,” he teased.

Lysander preferred Albus’s face undamaged, so he was glad it returned to a mostly normal color. Apparently he wasn’t the only one his fellow Ravenclaw was a lab rat for. One of these days he was going to cough up an internal organ after being instructed to drink a potion. He started to close the kit, but hesitated as a vial caught his eye. It was no fun to have the dizziness of drunkness without being at least slightly impaired. “I’ll make you feel better,” he said lightly, picking out another handful of leaves, this time Alihotsy. His other hand closed around the bright yellow vial full of a Draught to Induce Euphoria. Either would be plenty of amusement for him, and distraction for Albus. One of these days he was going to slip him Veritaserum and get all his secrets. “Pick one.”