Exclamation

A purple mushroom cloud drifts up into your eyes, stinging as you wave it away from your face.

You and Neville cough as the plumb colored puff dissipates and the two of you peer into the steaming cauldron.

“Well,” he says, propping his arms against the table, “it’s better than last time. At least it’s not blue.”

You give him an exasperated chuckle and swirl your wand over the brew, charming the failed attempt away. “Ok,” you say, drawing the cutting board and small knife closer to your end of the table again. “Last time, and then I’m heading off to bed.”

You chop the first ingredient, asking Neville to check, and double check, and triple check the next step as you plow through the potion.

Neville reads off the finals steps, “stir three times, and add one drop of ivory soul serum.”

You give the pot a few final turns and use the syringe to measure out a singular drop of white iridescent liquid. You huddle close to Neville as the drop falls toward the concoction. The white drop breaks the surface and sends a silvery ripple over the top of the cauldron.

Nothing happens for a moment. Both you and Neville know better than to get closer just yet, after what happened last time. After a few seconds, a lavender puff rises up from the pot.

“Ugh!” You sigh, sliding back into the chair behind you. “That’s it. I quit.”

“But you’re so close!” Neville comes to kneel beside you, cupping your face in his hands. “You’re almost there. After all this effort, you can’t give up now.”

You sigh, thinking about the thick, fluffy blankets and soft mattress that waited for you up in your dorm.

“Please?” His thumb strokes over you cheekbone, his eyes hiding a tentative smile.

You roll your eyes, knowing that you couldn’t say no to those eyes even if you wanted to. “Ok,” you play growl. “But then that’s it. No more after this.”

Neville simply kisses your temple and hovers again at his station by the text book, ready to read off the instructions.

You hesitate before reaching for the cutting board. He notices and whispers a small, “you got this y/n.”

You take a deep breath and launch into the first step.

A few minutes later, you’re once again giving the potion three last stirs and adding one drop of white liquid to the mix. This time, the ripple is the same iridescent chase as the soul serum. The cauldron begins violently boiling, threatening to spill over, when suddenly it stops.

One moment. Two. Three. Then, slowly, pink tinted steam comes wafting up from a clear potion.

“Holy Helga...” you murmur in shock.

“You’ve done it.” Neville mumbles in the same hushed tone. “You really have. You’ve done it!” He scoops you up and twirls you around, “Oh, Godric, you’ve really done it, y/n! I knew it! I knew you could! You didn’t believe me but I told y-“

You cover his mouth with yours, effectively cutting him off. He stumbles around, awkwardly setting you down and trying to keep his balance at the same time. He manages to anchor you against the wall, his hand on either side of your waist.

He pulls back, laughing nervously. “Sorry about that, y/n. Got dizzy there for a second.” He traces your mouth with his fingertips, blushing furiously all the while. “Wow...” he whispers. “You really are something special, aren’t you?”