Paris; 2004

Theodore Nott sat hunched over his work table, one finger splayed across the rough grain of the tabletop that was stained, dinged, and occasionally irreparably burnt from the multitude of testing that had occurred upon it. His other hand held a dropper with Manticore venom, suspended above a bubbling and slightly noxious iridescent purple potion. Licking his lips, he squeezed in precise drops, counting it off in his head as he went.

Twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-

Draco slammed a bottled potion onto the table next to him. He'd been so fully engrossed in this work that he hadn't seen his friend approach, much less prepare himself for the loud echoing sound. He jolted, dropping the entire dropper into the potion.

Years of Quidditch had kept him quick and agile, and he was able to shove Draco down and throw up a first-rate shield spell moments before the cauldron exploded. The shockwave of the blast vibrated against his protection, and below him, Draco watched their workplace turn from the usual near-immaculate state to one that was dripping in sizzling ooze.

"Draco!" Theo snapped irritably, "What the fuck, mate? Arg, that took me four months!"

"Okay," Draco said, standing as he patted off the dust on his robes, "That was not the pain potion. Pain potions don't have volatile ingredients in them."

"The pain potion took about two minutes to stir today," Theo waved a dismissive hand, appraising the extent of the damage. Draco picked up the vial that had caused it all, wiping off the sludge on the exterior with a cleanish rag, "That was the potion to temper emotions, which is-," He paused, realizing that the potion was all but ruined, "Was- extremely delicate."

"It's not my fault you didn't change the warning board outside! That's why it's there." Draco argued.

Theo holstered his wand in his pocket, "Well, it's useless now. What was so important that you just had to interrupt me?"

"The Veritaserum alternative, it's done."

Theodore's eyebrows rose near his hairline, "What? No. It wasn't supposed to be done simmering for another two months." He said, unshelving one of the journals to check. By his and Draco's calculations with this potion, it was far too early.

"Yeah, I know. But when I checked on it today, it was exactly the right color. In fact, it was starting to turn red, so I took it off the burner. Theo, I think it's actually good."

Theodore took the vial in. He held it up to the light, frowning, "The Ministry will be pleased, I suppose."

Veritaserum had been around for eons. The idea before had been 'don't mess with what's perfect', right? Except that people began building a tolerance for it, as one often did to long exposure to certain potions. When the Ministry had come to Draco and Theo's potions store with a check too big to refuse, this had become their number one project. Something stronger, better, and more infallible than what was already pretty damn good.

"Well, it's not done-done." Draco reminded him, as though he needed it. Theo was just as good a potioneer as his old school friend; nothing was finished until it was tested, tweaked, and then repeated about twelve times over. At least, nothing at their shop was.

Draco dragged Theo out to the kitchenette, heating up a mug of hot water and summoning over a bag of tea.

"It's green. We didn't account for that," Theodore said, realizing it was not colorless. This might be a problem.

"I did," Draco said, seeping the tea, "So…"

Theo set the vial down, smirking, "It's your turn, Malfoy." Theo had tried the last potion, and it had given him the side effect of itchy skin for days afterward. They could always force a poor intern to drink the ones that could be drunk or apply those that were topical, but frankly, they trusted themselves most. They were both attuned to picking out certain bugs in their creations, being able to taste plants and combinations with accuracy most starting potion makers could not.

"Yeah, but," Draco hedged, "Look, I have this super important dinner with Luna tonight. I'm meeting her dad. We both know I have the ring and tonight is not the night to propose. If this works," He flicked the side of the glass, "I'll spill the secret."

"Draco, we take turns. It's how it works." Theo said slowly.

"I didn't think this would be done for a while! Honestly, mate, please?" Draco said, "I'll...I'll be the guinea pig the next two," he saw Theo's face, "No, three times! And I'll clean up the entire workspace today. Please?"

Theodore gave a long sigh. Don't go into business with your best friend, they said, you have to be able to be professional, they said.

"Bugger it all," Theo cussed, "It's only because I actually like Luna and she deserves a really nice proposal!"

"You are mint. Honest." Draco clapping Theo's shoulders, "Let me grab the notebook."

Once situated, Draco uncorked the vial. He sniffed the top, shaking his head.

"Nothing."

He passed it to Theo, who inhaled, "I concur."

Handing it back to Draco, he also pushed the mug of English Breakfast to the blonde snake. Draco flipped a couple of pages, "You have a fairly high tolerance to the normal stuff, yeah?" He didn't have to ask, not really. All former Death Eaters were required to. Even as he said it, the scarred Dark Mark itched, just for a second, "So, let's do three drops."

"That seems conservative."

"If it's not enough, we'll try more," Draco pointed out.

He tapped three drops into the tea. As soon as it hit the drink, the droplets turned transparent. Theo raised a single eyebrow, glancing at Draco who was grinning at him in a very 'I-told-you-so' sort of way. Bloody prat.

Theo picked up the mug.

"Here's to hoping I don't suddenly combust into flames-,"

"-Or end up as mush to be scraped up off the ground," Draco finished the cheeky mantra they'd begun saying before trying any of their experiments. Theo couldn't even remember who began saying it, but eventually, they'd both started mumbling it, and now it was almost a good luck charm.

Theo sipped the tea.

"Tastes like tea," He said, his first observation, "Oh, urg, wait," Theo winced. The potion, mixed in with the tea, was starting to cover the back of his throat uncomfortably. It sorta tasted like burnt marshmallow, but the bad bits. The bad bits if someone threw them in a blender and mixed it with some gasoline and had Theo drink it. The more he touched his tongue around his gums, the more present the taste became.

He saw Draco furiously scribbling.

"What are you writing?"

"What you just said," Draco replied, looking at Theo like he was crazy, "About marshmallows and muggle blenders?"

"I didn't say anything!"

Had he? He'd still been gathering his thoughts. He was usually more articulate with his findings.

"I mean, being inarticulate doesn't really matter," Draco interrupted him.

Theo slapped his hands over his mouth, "Fuck."

Draco looked positively gleeful, "We know it works."

"I didn't even know I was talking out loud!"

He looked at the potion bottle. As he began to ruminate on the potion, he focused very hard not saying his thoughts out loud. Pleased he could at least do that, he wondered if three drops were too much, or if this was the outcome any time? How would it work with specifically guided questions, say if Draco questioned him about his favorite color? Green, predictably, but if there was anything harder…

"Like who you had your first wet dream about?" Draco asked, snorting back laughter. He noticed that Draco hadn't phrased it as a question, thank Merlin. He also purposely hid the person behind a thick wall as he focused on the fact that- once again- Draco had known his thoughts.

"No! I wasn't talking. I was making very sure that I…" He trailed off as Draco tapped his wand. A projection of the last thirty seconds flickered, showing Theodore very clearly saying exactly the thoughts that had just passed through his mind.

"You really didn't know that you were talking?" Draco asked, "Fascinating."

"I was focusing!" Theodore rubbed his forehead, "Okay, so some component of this potion makes you talk about whatever you're thinking about and, worse, somehow disconnects the part of your brain that recognizes your taking and your mouth. So, basically, any thoughts I'm having are broadcasted whether I like it or not."

"Worse? I think the Ministry will be over the moon!" Draco was grinning like a child at Yule, "One problem with traditional truth serum is that the speaker, while compelled to answer, can just say short clips. They can maneuver their answer, even if it's a truth. With this, you don't know you're spilling until it's too late."

"I can't go around like this!" Theo almost took another sip of his tea before remembering the potion in it, "Bloody ada, Draco."

"Remember the time that the potion turned my skin chartreuse?"

"Having a strange new look is not nearly the same as spilling all my inner thoughts like I'm a sappy pre-teen girl and the world is my diary." Theo spit out, "While you clean the room, I'm going to be locked in the back office. Tell everyone if they know what's good to stay away."

Unless they want to get hexed, he thought.

"Aye-aye, Hexing would be bad, I agree."

Theodore locked his jaw and kicked the wall.

Three hours later, after Theodore had spent the better part of his solitude catching up on owls (he didn't seem to write an unchecked stream of thought vomit, thank Merlin), Draco knocked on the door.

"Hey? Worn off at all?" He asked, creaking the door open, "Normal serum lasts five hours max."

Theo thought very colorful swear words, and from the way Draco winced, he was still saying them. Good.

At Theo's withering glare, he tapped his chin, "Think about...uhm, what are you passionate about? Potter?"

You're the one who's still passionately against the twat, Draco. I never had half as much a problem with him as you did. Merlin, just move on. The war's over. Life is good. Except, of course, being under this new potion. Damn, if we weren't so good, I'd really hate us right now. I sort of do…

"Well, brill!" Draco clapped his hands. Theo's shoulders slumped in relief.

"I wasn't saying that all out loud?" He asked, already gathering his things to go home.

"Yes and no. It was like a bad radio connection, and I was trying to tune you in and out. I could only hear about half of that, and they were sort of cut off. I mean, I got the gist of it, but yeah, it's wearing off."

Theo lightly dropped his head onto his desk.

"Draco, you-,"

"Yeah, I know it all. I can hear it. Apparently, the connection is better when you're emotional." Draco rubbed his chin, "Look, it's cleaned up and I have to go home to meet Luna soon. I'd be super interested to see how long this lasts, but we'll do more tests later."

"On interns," Theo growled.

"Oh, for sure, for sure," Draco said, "Anyway, erm, have a good night?"

Theo flipped him the bird.

He slowly packed up his things. He made sure the lab really was spick and span. He recounted their stock. He checked on their potions before the weekend. All of this only held him at the store about two hours longer. Intermittently, he recorded himself on his wand. He watched his figure played back, aghast to see that he was still speaking about 50% of any given average thought out loud. Draco was also right; when he was emotional, he was more likely to say full thoughts. Like when he stubbed his thumb, his mental tirade against Intern Sachen for not freaking putting the cauldron on the right way was spoken in full, compared to when he was just reminding himself they needed more parsley or to check on the parcel arrival date with their crushed African spider legs.

It was becoming far too long to stay in the workshop. Begrudgingly, he closed off the lights and locked the doors with their usual array of locks before stepping out into the Paris dusk.

He might usually apparate home, but he knew that as a bad hangover, the best way to get a potion out of one's system was to drink water and continue moving. He figured if he headed straight back to his flat, and thought of fairly innocuous things, he'd be safe. He usually stopped at a cafe for dinner, but today he'd go straight home and hope he had enough in his fridge for a meal.

As an extra security measure, Theo cut into Muggle Paris, weaving through the non-magical streets. The patrons of the fair city might think him slightly mad for mumbling half-complete thoughts under his breath, but he was far less likely to get distracted here than in the bustling streets of his world.

He kept his head low, hands shoved into his jacket pocket. His fingers traced the smooth wood of his wand, ready to just jump home at any given second if he thought some muggle something was going to infuriate or confuse him to the point where he'd be blabbing uncontrollably.

He kept his eyes focused on the sidewalk. Hard to be emotional about slabs of concrete, right? He counted each crack he went over. He recited the Draught of Living Death recipes in his mind. He only glanced up at crossroads to see if he was still on track for his flat.

A woman brushed by him. Rather, she came into his peripheral, and then stopped dead.

"Theodore? Theodore Nott? Is that you?"

Theo jerked his head up, furrowing his brows. If he were smart, he would mutter a quick apology and make a hasty exit, citing bad sushi or a previous engagement, but his lips went dry and all thoughts of staying away from people vanished. He did start furiously throwing up walls, praying he was up to snuff on Occlumency as he tried to keep his heartbeat at an even, steady pace. Badly.

Standing in front of him, her hair in a messy wild tangle of curls and her arms carrying more books than any single person needed, was the one person Theo could never deny anything.

"Hello, Hermione."