Hogwarts Forum (Challenges and Assignments)

Assignment #10 - Herbology: Plantiful Potions

Task #3: Prominently feature either a Fanged Geranium or Skele-Gro.

"Merlin, you're such an idiot," Regulus muttered.

James whined, clutching his arm close to his chest. He didn't have much of a choice; it was pinned there by an assortment of spells to keep it from flopping all over the place. He was grateful for that; nothing was less attractive than a flaccid limb, after all, but that didn't mean he enjoyed the experience. Bondage was certainly a lot less fun on his own.

"You're supposed to be sympathetic," James said. "Make me tea and bring me sweets and stuff. That's what happens when someone's bones go for a little jaunt, Reg. Not blatant mockery."

Regulus's back was unmoved. He didn't turn around to fix James with that handsome, derisive stare, nor did he make any effort to summon sweets or put the kettle on.

"You're the fool who promised that you were going to test the potion on something inanimate, and then spilled it all over yourself trying to look cool. You deserve every inch of mockery I decide to throw your way."

James whined again.

"Keep making those noises," Regulus snapped. "See where that gets you. I'm wasting valuable time making this potion for you when I could be practicing for my exam. Skele-Gro is a Fourth Year Potion, and they're unlikely to test me on my knowledge during Potion Master exams, are they?"

The icy tone worked wonders. James cringed away. He took off his glasses, rubbing his closed eyes with the heel of his one working palm. "Sorry, I guess," he said, pressing down until soft stars bloomed in the darkness behind his eyelids. "I just—can't believe I was this stupid. And I really do think I deserve sweets."

There was an amused snort from outside the star-specked darkness. James took his hand away and peered at Regulus's back. He was vigorously stirring a thick black concoction in a large pewter cauldron. The smell was absolutely criminal, but if James complained about that, he had a feeling his whole limb would be missing within seconds. James got up, wobbling a little, and edged his way across the room. The collar of Regulus's Apprenticeship Robes was a little rumpled, askew. James bent his head and pressed a lingering kiss to the back of his neck, humming against his skin.

Regulus wheeled around, his jaw hanging open, incredulous indignation painted all over his fine, handsome features. The light from the study window threw him into soft, dusty relief.

"What are you doing?" he hissed, fidgeting.

"Checking on the potion," James said, tipping an eyebrow up innocently. "Why, what did you think I was doing?"

"Being a nuisance."

James laughed softly. "I can do that from across the room."

Regulus whirled around again, his shoulders climbing up to his ears. The back of his neck flushed prettily. Fumes from the potion made the air greasy and disgusting, but he could ignore it as long as Regulus was there, flustered and snippy. His arm throbbed, still glued to his chest to keep it from falling all over the place, but it was going to be a thousand times worse by the time the Skele-Gro was ready. He could endure it for now.

"Talk me through the process," James said.

Regulus's reply was distracted, snappish but not genuinely angry. "What?"

"Talk me through it. You're nervous about the exams, even if you don't want to admit it, and I've put a halt on things, so talk me through it. Go back to the basics. Heating and reactions, c'mon." He pressed a little closer, mindful of his arm, and ducked his face into Regulus's shoulder. "I want to know everything."

The tension in Regulus's spine unwound gradually. He talked, slow and wary at first, like he was waiting for the punchline, before his words gathered confidence and speed. He explained the properties of Fanged Geranium with precise, crisp conciseness, leaning into the importance of anti-clockwise stirring, and finished with an impassioned, rousing debate on whether or not Skele-Gro was accessible to poorer Witches and Wizards who didn't have the means to make it themselves. It was more than James asked for, and it was glorious.

"That was very Gryffindor of you, Mr Black," James said.

He received a gentle shove and a not-so gentle scowl for his trouble.

"Do not insult the person who just slaved away over your only chance of successfully wiping your own arse later on," Regulus hissed at him. "Sit down while I put this in a few bottles. Merlin knows we're going to need more of it, knowing you."

The Skele-Gro did not look quite so menacing when placed inside plain, glass vials with purple stoppers. The customary skeletal bottles grinned evilly whenever James was forced to use them after an Auror-related incident, or a prank gone wrong. He liked Regulus's potions best. They were neat and unassuming, carefully labelled but never ostentatious. He trusted them whole-heartedly. He trusted Regulus whole-heartedly; it had taken them long enough to get here, and now James doubted he would ever stop trusting him.

James sat on the armchair nestled into the corner of the study, where he'd been relegated at the very beginning of the potion-making. Regulus never liked distractions when he was setting up his work station. The fact that he let James into his study at all was a mark of how far they'd come. James watched with keen eyes as Regulus swept his wand through the air, distributing the Skele-Gro evenly into little vials, and stopping them up. Labels were pasted on, and Stasis Charms kept them at the correct temperature as he filed them into the collapsible briefcase stored under his desk.

"I really am sorry, you know," James said earnestly.

Regulus picked up the last vial, and crossed the room to kneel in front of him. His black hair fell across his eyes, but it didn't do much to hide the confusion in them.

"What are you blathering on about now?"

"I didn't mean to mess up your day," James continued, reaching up to brush Regulus's hair aside, trailing his fingers down his cheek. "I should have been more careful. But I also know you're working really hard, and I need you to know that you don't have anything to worry about. You're going to be a Potions Master before long, Reg. They'd be idiots not to pass you."

Regulus's expression softened marginally. "Flattery won't get you out of drinking this potion, Potter."

James thumbed along his lip, cupping his jaw. "Oh, back to Potter, is it?"

"You never stopped being Potter," Regulus said, leaning briefly into his touch before pushing it away again to kneel up. "You just happen to be James too. When you're not being an arse, that is."

"Flattery will get me into drinking this potion, y'know," James said. "But so will physical affection." He puckered his lips obnoxiously. "Kisses, to be specific."

Regulus sighed very loudly. But he leaned in, planting a firm kiss on his mouth, the barest edge of heat in the touch. Then he leaned away, uncorked the vial, and stuffed the Skele-Gro into James's hands.

"Drink."

"Cheers!" James threw it back in on go. He crumpled immediately, groaning and retching. "Oh Merlin, that's disgusting."

Regulus patted him on the shoulder unsympathetically. "Cheers indeed."

[Word Count: 1217]