Love Potion

The Deadliest Perfume in the World

The days towards the ball slugged like bags of sodding mass. The clock hands crept as if they were drowsy of their toils.

And lessons were harder than ever. My house points and quality of work was slipping, but I told myself it was okay, because Majestio was here and it was nearly the ball and it was nearly the holidays.. it was perfectly understandable to take a break. And God knows I needed it.

Although, Viper was now firmly atop the house points leaderboard. But I did not grind my teeth every time I looked at it. He made snide comments about it, of course ("your pity points for being new have finally run out, I see"), but for some reason they slipped through my mind like jelly strings, and I couldn't concentrate on them much more than the fact that his voice was in my ear - and much less could I think of a witty comeback.

I sagged to my first lesson, potions, like a stone that had tried to be skimmed, and sunk instead.

The stench that clouded the classroom was overwhelming in the strange heat of the day. I breathed it in and out, those hundred flavours and stenches and ingredients, brewing potion clouds in my lungs.

Strangely, the tables had been pushed up against the walls, and there wasn't a cauldron in sight, rather there was a circle of pillows on the floor like in soothsaying, where the rest of the class was sat. Unfortunately, this meant I could not ignore the existence of Killian Viper, who sat right across the only pillow left. That boy of a hundred questions; who had been to my dreams not two nights ago.

I collapsed into it, between Mollis and Alfrick Lullaby, and narrowed my eyes at the white-haired boy who sat across. He did too, and raised an eyebrow in mean question. Then I turned away, to Gilbert, who sat beside Alfrick. He raised a greeting. I groggily returned 'un. Pip and Mollis, on the other side, were in a frenzish conversation of mutters. Aflrick was completely silent, hidden behind his long fringe and having a staring contest with the floor. Master Gaga had not arrived yet.

"You alright?" Gilbert chuckled to me.

"Dun'," was my muffled reply.

"Not joined the Majestio Fest?"

"No, I have," I said, lifting my head. "I think he's great. He's amazing! You wouldn't say his specialties are particularly, well, special, but he uses them with mastery and perfection - he's defeated so many villians! And helped so many people! The families of the people who're hurt or lost because of the destruction of the villains he defeats... he helps them, too! I don't like him because he's super handsome or cool or whatever, but he's a good man!"

Gilbert smiled defeatedly. "Yeah - I know."

Then something strange happened. Alfrick, that pale, mysterious, winged boy, blinked from the floor for a second and actually - get this - looked at me. (Well, I couldn't be sure, since that thick mopping fringe did slope over his eyes so I couldn't tell where he was looking, but his head did incline in my direction.) 

He opened his mouth. "Hester-" was all that came out. He closed his mouth again, but looked like he would eventually form a sentence with it. I couldn't be sure: that fringe did cover a lot of his face.

"Hester? Your sister?" I aided.

"She... hates that guy," he slowly finished.

"Oh?" I said. I remember not seeing her particularly celebrate his arrival. "How come?"

But he seemed to have exhausted his usage of social-purposed words, for he only stared at me before returning to the floor.

Still, I was impressed. I had only ever seen him exchange that many words with Gilbert.