The Workings of Something New
Potions sat distinctly mid with Conrad. He didn't hate it, nor did he love it. It was just... there – something he had to learn but didn't mind. Now, the fact he didn't have an overwhelming love for the subject didn't mean he wasn't knocking it out of the park, the same as all of his other classes. Because of course he was, even Herbology, the only subject he genuinely hated – simply a part and parcel of him; an academic weapon, if you will. It reflected in class too. He paid attention, handed in all of the homework on time, followed the rules to the letter (most of the time, when it suited him), and rarely spent his time chatting... or failing.
Perhaps today was unique. Aside from brewing the potion in pairs, which, to be frank, Conrad didn't appreciate, the young Slytherin found himself feeling far more 'chatty' than he would otherwise be during class. Not to mention needing to triple-check the ingredients list for the potion as if it was his first time brewing it. One of those accursed days – simply out of his usual organised and on-point-like-a-hawk element. He couldn't be perfect every single day, but 'chatty' was still the main head-scratcher among the day's peculiarities.
The potion in question? The Babbling Beverage, a recap lesson. He returned to their station after collecting all the ingredients they needed, while Carina set up the cauldron and whatnots. Teamwork... a foreign concept. "I think this is everything. A single dried poppy head, two valerian sprigs, three aconite blossoms, one strand of unicorn hair and one sprig of dittany." He said, pointing to all of the ingredients one by one as he named them, voice soft and naturally hushed.
The Workings of Something New
the workings of something new • may 2025--
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@Conrad Wolverstone
The Workings of Something New
"Once." Conrad affirmed, a matter of fact. The last time it had gone well enough – no explosions, no mishaps, and the potion turned out passable by most standards. About as much as one could ask for from a first try. Still, he hadn’t exactly been enthusiastic about that particular brew. Babbling some nonsense was hardly fitting for someone like him, not when he took such deliberate care to maintain control, to keep things neat and polished. The idea of letting that go, even briefly, felt absurd – inconceivable that he’d willingly subject himself to that kind of humiliation. No matter how fun some of his classmates seemed to be having with it, that kind of fun was not for him. His parents didn't think so anyway.
Not that Conrad minded it. He rarely did when it came to antics like that, but perhaps deep down, somewhere, that repressed kiddish instinct yearned for it. No one could know for certain. He'd never admit it, of course, and certainly not show it. But it didn't mean he wouldn't appreciate it in others. "Noted. More dittany." He glanced over briefly with what was meant to be a smile, forced as anything. "And how was that for you? I mean, did you enjoy it?" he asked, tone even, attention returning to and fixed on the actual task they were meant to be doing rather than babbling. He reached for the mortar and began to crush the poppy head into a powder. The conversation could serve as filler, nothing more – a buffer against silence, awkward or otherwise.
But of course it was too much to hope for. She had to bring it up. That one flaw, that single imperfection he already felt prickling at the back of his mind. His response came automatically: a slow, deliberate eye roll. Wholly unamused. If there was one thing that consistently got under his skin, it was being reminded of his faults – especially the ones he tried hardest to erase. Everyone had them, sure, but Conrad? He didn't accept them. He couldn't.
A brief silence lingered before he finally spoke up again. "I don't, and it was," he added flatly. His tone was deliberate with a single message – his eagerness to move on from the topic as quickly as possible. From the teasing, no matter how light. "Are you going to drink this one too?" He circled back in an attempt to smoothly divert the focus from himself. Naturally he didn't have the intention of following suit and taking a swig of it himself, so it made him curious. Conrad would be lying if he said he didn't want to witness what it'd be like this time; what she would babble about when she drank it. Would it be funny? Stupid? A mix of both?
He didn’t look over, but the slight tilt of his head and the momentary pause in his grinding betrayed him – his young mind briefly occupied by all the absurd things the potion might force her to say. A small grin cracked at his lips. It all hinted at a subtle interest he’d never admit aloud.
The Workings of Something New
the workings of something new • may 2025--
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| ---- | 'Depends.' She kept her voice flat.'Last time I drank, it tasted pretty bad.' Heaving a sigh, she stirred the mixture in quick motions. It was settling right, no obvious clumps, no foul stench, nothing explosive, hopefully not poisoned. Good enough. 'Besides, if you have a desire to follow my lead after my review is either being incredibly brave, incredibly foolish, or just weird. I'm leaning towards the last one.' Smiling, she reached for a small glass vial from her satchel, the kind she always kept in for emergencies. Or for ideas like this. This was somewhere in between. Carefully, she spooned the mixture half full into the glass. Giving a sideways glance, she was hoping he'd protest. But he didn't. Unsure of drinking it, she twirled the mixture gently just staring and hoping she wasn't here. Hesitating, she lifted the glass and gave a clink to the cauldron. 'To poetic nonsense.' she muttered, and tipped it back. She knew it would taste like this, bitter with contents she won't think of drinking. It was weird, tasting something unknown and inedible leading to a chance to visit the girls' lavatory after class. Not like the last time. No instant nonsense. Just heat, rising slowly like a steam escaping through a 60 degree celsius water. Blinking twice, she said slowly, 'So far so good.' The words had come out oddly in the wrong tune. And she grimaced, 'Sorry. That wasn't on purpose.' She looked up at the ceiling, then the cauldron, then her hands, then briefly at Conrad. 'Do you ever think,' she said slowly, 'that we all have like, layers. Not the onion kind, but well, maybe the onion kind. Just you start at the skin and keep going. And maybe people only ever see the part you want them to. And then you forget what’s actually in the middle.' Merlin. Glancing at Conrad, she asked, 'Was that poetry?' She didn't know she had read something like this before. Her thoughts would be spilling faster than she could catch them. It wasn't dangerous, wasn't embarrassing, but she felt... exposed. And she didn't like anything like that. Clearing her throat, she said, 'New plan,' giving quick awkward looks at Conrad she continued, 'if I start singing to sentences, you will have full permission to hex me.' Placing the glass on the table, she ensured him, 'Seems like the recipe had been measured right.' After that, she didn't dared to ask what she had said, or if it made sense. She also wasn't sure if she had wanted to know. |
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---thoughts • speech • [url=https://i.postimg.cc/GhwXnTj6/image.png]outfit[/url] • wordcount-427 @Conrad Wolverstone