For a long time, plant magic had been Audrey's biggest specialty. Not many customers ever wanted it, but practicing spells on the handful of flowerpots scattered around her apartment was still something that brought her a lot of joy.
Recently, she may have become even more practiced at healing magic. Whenever Seymour came to visit, he usually had some new scrape or bruise picked up in a moment of clumsiness, and she was always happy to grab her staff and patch it up for him. And in the past couple of weeks, she'd found herself using quite a few of those spells on herself. Magically-inflicted injuries were harder to heal, so there were some marks where the best she could do was try to keep them hidden while they took time to heal. But at least she could clear away the bruises that had only come from a fist.
When Seymour came to visit her that night, he was pleased to have finally tracked down the last of the ingredients she'd been asking about lately. It hadn't been easy, and he'd wound up in all sorts of strange places. But when Audrey asked him for something, he didn't like to give up until he managed to track it down.
Though she'd smiled and thanked him profusely, Seymour noticed that something still seemed to be weighing heavily on her mind. It wasn't the first time that he'd noticed Audrey acting odd. The last couple of visits, she'd spent more and more time acting distracted and jumpy. And though she used to like to do it often, she hadn't invited him out flying in awhile. He was worried, but figured she would tell him if she wanted him to know about her problems. Besides, he'd been dealing with a strange secret of his own, in the form of a plant that was beginning to seem much more unusual than anything he'd encountered yet.
As Audrey looked through the bundle he had dropped off and read intently though a few pages of her spellbook, Seymour began to curiously examine the thick smoke coming from a pot on the stove.
There was often one potion or another brewing when he came over, but he was sure he had never seen this one before. It was pink in color, but not a shade of pink that he would ever expect to occur in nature. And as he leaned in to get a closer look, a strange, cloying smell filled the air. He couldn't tell if it was pleasant, or if it made him feel like he was about to start choking.
"Oh! Seymour, be careful!"
He hadn't realized he was getting woozy until he heard Audrey's worried voice, and his legs wobbled unsteadily as she gently tugged him away from the cloud of steam.
Audrey placed her hands on his shoulders to make sure he wouldn't fall, her expression filled with concern. Her potions never had lasting effects without drinking them, but this one was potent enough that breathing the vapors could be known to affect someone for a few minutes.
"Are you alright? Does anything feel… different?" She asked.
Seymour shook his head to clear the rest of the already-fading sense of disorientation, and was left with nothing but the usual warm feeling inside that being with Audrey always gave him.
"No different than usual." He assured her
Audrey breathed out in relief and slowly pulled her hands away once she was sure he was stable on his feet again. She began to fidget nervously, becoming very worried he might start to ask questions about this new potion. She'd blamed a lot of her unusual behavior recently on being distracted with this complicated recipe. To an extent, it was true. But she wasn't sure how she could begin to explain anything if he asked what it was for.
All she could think to say was, "It's... not finished yet. It'll be safer then."
At least, she hoped it would be safer then.
Though he didn't know what exactly was going on, Seymour could sense her unease, and decided that she seemed like she might prefer it if he left.
"It's getting late, I guess I should head home. I'll come by with more of the usual stuff in a few days, okay?"
Audrey only nodded distractedly, but looked up in his direction again when she heard the door open. "Wait…"
Seymour turned around just in time for Audrey to pull him into a tight hug. He was unsure what had brought this on, but returned the gesture nonetheless.
"Is everything okay?"
Audrey nodded. "It's just… something I hope I won't forget."
Seymour certainly looked confused as she let him go again, but gave her a last, reassuring smile before he left.
Though Audrey was reluctant to return to the potion on the stove, it would be ready soon, and she had a few more steps that needed to be completed. These things could get unpredictable if they weren't handled just right, and she needed it to go perfectly. Right then it could work on just about anyone, but she had a particular target in mind.
After adding the last touch, a strand of oily-with-vitalis hair she'd pulled off a comb left behind in her apartment, she felt confident that the brew would work exactly as intended. Trying not to think too hard about what she was planning, she opened a cabinet and pulled out the first mug she spotted. Her stomach churned from a mix of the strong scent and nerves.
Whenever people came asking for them, Audrey always claimed that she didn't have a recipe for love potions. She didn't want to have any part of forcing someone to fall in love against their will. But after thinking long and hard about her current circumstances, she'd finally decided that the time had come to give the brew a try.
Life hadn't been easy with her new boyfriend. He was rough on her, and had a sharp temper that was constantly set off by the smallest of things. She couldn't even take Seymour out on the broomstick anymore, out of fear of running into that deathtrap of a motorcycle he'd finally figured out how to fly with. She'd become terrified every second Orin was around, or even any second when there was a slim chance that he might be anywhere nearby. And while he wasn't caring or considerate, he was certainly possessive. She didn't think there was any way to be free of him. And if this was going to be her life from now on, it was certain to be a miserable one.
No matter how much she tried to tell herself to be happy with whoever would take her, she was forced to admit to herself that she could never love him. Not unless she had the aid of magic. He might never treat her any differently, but she could make herself too in love to care. Perhaps that was the only way any of this could be bearable.
Staring down into the potion as she tried to gather the willpower to drink, she couldn't decide how she expected it to taste. It sloshed around in a thick sort of way, almost like honey or molasses, but certainly less appetizing than either of those would have been. Or maybe it was much more enticing, she couldn't quite figure out which. The look of the bright fuchsia liquid made her think of cough syrup. The kind that promised to taste like fruit, but no one who drank it would ever confuse it for anything but medicine. Thinking of it like medicine was probably right. Just gulp it down, and once the few unpleasant moments were over, everything could start to get better.
As she was distractedly running a thumb around the rim of the mug, she felt a small chip in the porcelain. And suddenly, the memory of how that chip got there broke crystal clear through the haze of sticky-sweet fumes.
She couldn't do this.
Before she could even begin to work out whether to feel relieved or disappointed in herself, she'd already dumped the mug down the sink, and quickly followed it with everything left in the pot. It didn't matter if it amounted to weeks of work, she couldn't bear to see it for one more second.
How could she ever settle for potion-induced love when she already knew the real thing?
