With cold—clinical—unwavering concentration, a stillness that was more than befitting of his House’s mascot, Theo watched the cauldron’s contents thicken and boil, darkening until it was black as pitch. When one particularly large bubble glooped unpleasantly at the surface, he didn’t look away, picking up and uncorking one of the small, dark vials waiting nearby without so much as a glance. Once – twice – three times he let it drip, his stare unflinching even as it produced eye-stinging fumes that hissed and snapped at the air.

At seven-thirty in the evening, Theo and Alex had the Room of Requirement to themselves, silence and privacy offered in abundance when no other room did. Aside from the rather ominous noises coming from the cauldron (nasty, menacing ones, the kind that brought to mind helplessly twitching limbs and muted screams of pain, muffled under the weight of a churning mixture that would ruin one’s appetite), there were tinkling ones of glass, and soft, squelching ones of things being mashed, and the quiet rustling of papers filling the room—familiar ones that, when Theo was in a whimsical kind of mood, he liked to think gave the room a… heartbeat, if you will. They were rhythmic, constant and regular, like clockwork, as he and Alex toiled away. One might even call it comforting, if comfort was such a thing either them needed…

Of all the constants in Theo’s life (of which there many, each one satisfying in its own way), this was, perhaps, one of his most favorite. There was a certain kind of pleasure, he mused, to be derived from orchestrating your own, possible death. It was one thing to test on someonething else (that sort of excitement was one he really couldn’t deny himself), and an entirely different game to use yourself, the added pressure of self-preservation warring with the heady thrum of adrenaline.

And it was always much more fun when attempted in the presence of friends.

No less than two feet away, a rather sizable jar (-well, tank, really) stood, its own contents apparently caught in a constant state of growth and calcification; as quickly as a shimmer, the femur would form, grow, calcify and shatter… only to regrow from the marrow, the bone briefly gleaming through the dull, greenish liquid before the cycle started again. Skelegrow, it seemed, held its own against his personal concoction remarkably well—although, in his defense it was in its experimental stage. He was still refining the process, trying to increase potency as well as hasten its rate of effect.

(Instantaneous death versus slow, crippling agony. Now that was a dilemma.)

A smell rose from the mix, a sharp, fleeting scent with an edge of… something that escaped him, sufficiently distracting him from his musings. He knew it, he just couldn’t be sure-

Frowning, Theo leaned in, until he was almost half-bent over the cauldron; before the last of it could dissipate, he opened his mouth and… tasted.

There.

Before the last of it could disappear, a familiar taste ghosted along the back of his tongue, sharp, metallic and strident, the flavor both a caress and a scratch. “Blood,” those blue eyes shot open in surprise. Thoughtfully, he savored. “Erkling blood,” a specific name came to mind, and he looked back at Alex with a guileless smile, visibly pleased with himself.

Glancing back at the cauldron, he was just in time to catch the mixture turn startlingly, crystalline clear; that soft smile took on an edge of excitement. Feeling positively giddy, Theo lowered the fire to a simmer and shoved his already-rolled up sleeves even higher for good measure, his tie and collar already undone beforehand. “I think it’s ready,” he tossed over his shoulder, not a little bit smug as he combed a hand through those infamous curls and stepped aside.

   

---

Although she hadn’t completely forgiven him for ditching her – in favour of Inkwood, no less, whose stupidity was baffling as he seemed, for much of the time, to possess some degree of intelligence – the allure of seeing the product of Theo’s experimentation was easily greater than her irritation, and so she didn’t comment, instead working silently.

Well, if one counted humming as silence, which Alex occasionally did.

She stopped eventually, forgetting her place in the melody as she measured precise amounts out, powdering with a little more force than necessary but otherwise contributing little, instead allowing her mind to wander. Not so distracted as to be oblivious of proceedings, as Theo approached the final stages of his work Alex put hers aside, passing a last bowl to him and watching as he finished off.

"Congratulations," Alex replied in a tone that fell short of totally impressed, tainted by disapproval. Tasting potions might be effective, if you were skilled enough, but that didn't prevent it from being foolhardy - especially considering the content of the cauldron in question. Leaning forward enough that she could see the liquid, her eyebrows lifted slightly in more genuine recognition of success. “You know it’s ready,” she corrected.

Her hand, hidden in a pocket, released the bezoar stone she'd acquired earlier. It could have been the case that the room would provide one, but given that while excellent at providing equipment (the scales, in particular, were exceedingly elegant) it was less than reliable when it came to ingredients, Alex had instead taken the precaution of filching one from the potions stock cupboard, intending to return it if its use was not required. It wasn't that she doubted him, it was just... she doubted him. Well, she recognised that he was fallable, and so she made preparations for the slim eventuality of his potential for fallacy resulting in actual failure.

Actually, that was an intriguing idea. If someone died in the room of requirement, and were the only one present, what would happen? Would the room be sealed forever more, while the body decomposed? Or would there be a time after which you could enter, or perhaps the body would simply stay in that specific room until some unfortunate individual stumbled upon it. Unlike Theo's potion, not something that could be readily tested, so it would have to remain a conundrum of the wizarding world until such time as rooms of requirement had so little value as to make the potential loss of one of little consequence. Which would probably never happen, condemning her question to remain a question until the end of time. It was unfortunate that nobody had written anything about the room of requirement, but that would make it common knowledge, and while a reasonable proportion of the student body knew about it, it wasn't yet so widely known about to make publishing a book on it worthwhile. Researching the Room’s properties would be an enjoyable endeavour, even if the conclusions weren’t shared with anyone.

It was quick work to ladle out a quantity of the liquid, transferring it to a small pipette before turning to Theo, “Poisoning you will be the highlight of the day, I think, possibly the week if it’s dramatic enough. Is there anything I should be looking for, other than froth forming at your mouth and a waxen complexion?" Obviously, that was a worst case scenario, and Alex was more interested in less dramatic side effects - a rash, perhaps.

Almost unwillingly (but not quite), a smile tugged at Theo’s mouth, small, curling and sincere. “Your faith is overwhelming,” he dryly informed Alex as he watched her pour. Eyes tracking her movements, it was more out of habit than anything else. “If you must know, we’ll be testing the success of this-” He nodded at the pipette. “-against shatterbone[1] tonight. If its actual purpose fails, nothing will happen. Charles here,” he picked up a tray, where a small, furry body lay helplessly on its side, thinly but steadily bleeding from a neat incision at its shoulder, “will merely bleed to death.”

The words were uttered casually, as one might note an insignificant, if interesting detail. The mouse’s death, they both knew, wouldn’t be the first he would see– or be the cause of.

At the Whitmans’ manor – in what was more or less Theo’s hothouse, for much of the vegetation there were planted at his behest – just about every plot was a grave.

“If it fails outright, then my bones should fragment almost instantly,” Theo continued, and if anything his smile grew even brighter. “Bypassing the unguent, this particular brew will take effect in less than a minute, so the moment I begin showing signs you should apply the antidote.” Oblivious of the bezoar in her pocket, he slid a slim, inconspicuous vial closer to her and took a seat, turning it around so that he sat backwards, smirking as he folded his arms atop of the back. “A bit of spittle would be the least of my worries.”

1.

Shatterbone Poison Aptly - and affectionately - named by Theo Whitman, shatterbone rapidly petrifies bone to a degree that, instead of fortifying it, renders it extremely fragile. Skeletal structures end up collapsing under the pressure, hence the name. Hypothetically, it can take effect at varying speeds (‘instantly’ is the most practical). Ingredients include crushed dragon horn, cockatrice eyes, and a perverted form of Skelegrow.

Alex absorbed the information without batting an eyelid. Although she had her doubts about the worth of an antidote if the potion were so swift to act, she wasn't about to dismiss it, and she took the offered bottle, holding it up for a moment before placing it within easy reach. Although she didn’t say as much, she would use the bezoar in event of disaster; she’d rather rely on methods she’d seen than hope that Theo’s work with one potion was more successful than another.

“Fine,” she agreed, “Open wide.” Moving around to be in a better position, she frowned slightly, “wider.”

A hand lifted, cupping Theo’s chin and holding it steady, moving it slightly for her convenience with an entirely pleasant smile. Picking up the pipette with her other hand, she leant forward, privately glad that Theo being seated eliminated the embarrassment of asking him to bend for her.

The first drop fell, and Alex paused, waiting for a reaction, but when nothing happened, she smiled a little, in a fashion that would be called reassuring, if Alex had felt that there was any need to reassure Theo. The next drops fell quickly, her hand moving with a surety that owed its thanks in part to the work she’d done during the holidays.

When she’d finished, she stayed in place, hand stiffening to prevent Theo from moving, then tilting his head so that the light was better, narrowing her eyes. She released his head with a smile, “Sorry, I thought I saw something. A trick of the light." For all the surety of her tone, Alex wasn't entirely sure that it had been just that, but there was no point worrying.

Looking at the mouse - or Charles, since Theo persisted in naming the creatures he only had interest in as test subjects – Alex wondered what Theo was planning to do about its fur, but decided that since he was to be the one tonguing rodents it was his concern. “Lick away.”

---

Docile under Alex’s direction– head tilted back as he’d obediently done as he was told –Theo remained as such even as she had pulled away, his chin lowering slowly as the unguent took effect. It was a strange sensation, feeling the drops coalesce as they seeped into his tongue, but not wholly unpleasant; just… slick, in a rather unobtrusive way. Other than the slight buzzing at the back of his throat (which had him restlessly curling his tongue) and the faint, metallic taste lingering on the muscle (which had him chasing after it), there was almost nothing he could readily perceive, even to a discerning palate such as his. As his tongue swirled experimentally against the roof of his mouth, he could detect nothing else, no further hints or… anything, really. It was almost disappointing.

Well, there were worse things, Theo decided as he licked his teeth, than a lack of flavor.

But it wasn’t just the taste he was focused on, of course. No, it was the soft, murmuring drone of magic that coated the very insides of his mouth—the only sign that there was anything unusual at all. Even a cursory huff into his palm proved it odorless –which could only prove useful later, he was sure.

Tracking Alex’s gaze to the rodent’s prone form, Theo smiled, a small, lazy thing that had his eyes crinkling at the corners anyway. “Just a moment,” he laughed, rising from the chair, and went to pick up another vial. Briefly, his fingers skimmed over the lot of them, until he plucked one out. Holding it to the light, he turned it this way and that, as if it would make it any easier to see the contents past the midnight-dark glass that contained them, “lick away” was muttered under his breath with a hint of exasperation. Resuming his normal tone, “We have to test the unguent first-”

With a quick twist of the cork, the bottle was opened –and a small, grayish cloud escaped, with a vague expression of horror and a tiny scream before totally dissipating. Theo sighed. “I really wish it wouldn’t do that,” he said, aggrieved, and carefully tipped it into his mouth. Mindful not to let the rim touch his lips, for hygiene’s sake.

Once it was clearly his latest concoction had worked– or, at least, it was apparent he wasn’t about to suffer one of the most painful deaths conceivable –a smile, another one, broke out, this one quick and brilliant and unabashedly pleased. He wasn’t surprised it had worked, of course – his calculations were so rarely wrong, and the rare times they were, Alex always found the exact point of misstep – but it was always nice to be proven right yet again. And in true Theo fashion, he acknowledged it by smoothly carrying on to the next part of the experiment. Which, in this case, was licking.

His smile softening into an absentminded one, Theo picked up Charles with a careful hand, fingers gently sliding under its uninjured side so that its injured one remained bare. When he had gone looking for an appropriate test subject, he had taken the necessary pains to find the one best suited for the task—in other words, well cared for, so that it met the criteria for health and hygiene. Hence, Charles.

(Somewhere in the castle, there was a student missing a beloved pet. But Theo was not about to make himself sick over such things, so.)

Lightly, almost affectionately, he touched the rat’s chest– noting how slowly it rose and fell beneath his thumb, the softness of its fur and the fading warmth. The unsteady heartbeat weakly thumping under his touch. Exerting the slightest bit of pressure, he finds, has a little more blood welling up—bright and coppery and sharp to the nose (taste), that never fails to put an equally bright glint in his eye.

Bon appétit, he thought cheerfully, and gave it a lick—the blade of his tongue dragging along the bleeding seam.

Within seconds, the room filled with the distinctive sounds of snapping bones—not clean snaps, but… tiny ones, messy and drawn out and many, like the way glass broke and tinkled in a glittering shower of jagged edges, or rock crumbled to dust–

And a tiny, pained squeal, shrill and abrupt and gone before the bones had finished breaking. Finished hardening into stone, before collapsing in on themselves from the sheer pressure of it all and all the little bits in between.

Something warm and wet splashed onto his face. Lifting his gaze from the small, crumpled form, Theo looked up at Alex and beamed.

Her mouth curling up when Theo spoke, an eyebrow twitched in something like when the bottle reacted so dramatically to being opened. “Does the amount of the time it remains shut for alter the volume of the wail?” she asked – not that she would advocate leaving it open perpetually, it would just be interesting to know what factors affected the reaction the potion had when opened. But at present, it was only a matter of curiosity, something to be considered later on in the process of refining the potion, and she instead slipped her hand into her pocket, the bezoar's weight providing comfort that even if her friend were to poison himself she would be able to prevent it from being fatal, although she would still need to react swiftly in order to do so.

In the silence that followed, reassuringly free of such alarming sounds as the shattering of her friend's bones or a scream of pain, she began slowly to relax, the tension slowly leaving her posture before she stepped across to rest a hand on a clear area of the table. Following his example, she stayed silent, watching as he caressed Charles with a tenderness that she didn't entirely approve of. There was no need to say anything, and while she didn't always let that stop her, the remnants of her earlier nerves kept her silent.

She didn't think before returning the smile, smaller than the Slytherin’s, but then she was less interested - or rather, less invested in the success of the potion. She was interested, of course, but it was a scientific interest, detached from the event now that her real interest - his welfare - had been confirmed. It was perhaps not the ideal, but Theo's choices for assistant were severely limited by the nature of his experimentation, and although her personal interest was limited and she was by no means a brilliant potioneer, Alex was proficient enough to analyse his work and happy enough to assist him.

"Although saying as much often gets one punished for hubris, I didn't expect that to go quite so smoothly," Alex admitted, "congratulations are in order." Her smile now was slightly wider, complimented by an expression rarely found on her face, genuinely proud of her friend's achievement, no matter how illogical the sentiment was.

There was something she was forgetting, Alex was sure of it, and after a pause, she remembered, her hands overlapping in front of her in a respectful pose, her head tilting downwards. “And now,” she murmured, her voice dropping an octave and gaining the solemnity of ritual, “a moment to grieve for the departed. Charles will be missed by all who knew him, both his owners and those who were with him at his last, but we are thankful that his death, while excruciatingly painful, was not without worth.” There was a pause, and she looked upwards, “Theo! Look more upset.”

Honestly, it was almost as though her friend didn’t care at all about the dead rodent. Which he was clearing away; while Alex didn’t object to dead animals, since Theo was the one who had been close and personal with it, he was the one who would dispose of the body.

As blood arced down his face and onto his chin– his neck and immaculate white shirt contributing to a slightly grisly appearance –Theo smiled a wide, dazzling, glorious smile, positively beatific with triumph as the warmth of accomplishment swelled in his chest. It stretched across his face like a ray of sunshine, brilliant and unrelenting. As much as he did know this little victory could have been his and his alone, it hadn’t been, and as he took in Alex’s bowed head, the Slytherin decided that, yes, this was better.

Obediently, he ducked his head and bit down on the smile, his features arranging themselves into a grave expression. For all intents and purposes, he looked like a contrite angel, albeit a bloodstained one. “Sorry,” he murmured—a tiny one creeping back into his expression anyway, as he gazed down at the misshapen form hanging limply in his hand. Alex was right; the least he could do was show a little proper gratitude.

And then the moment passed, and Charles was promptly disposed of. With a careless flick of his wand, Theo swept up the ashes.

“Thank you, Alex,” he said sweetly as he wiped his hands clean, the white terrycloth pinkening with use. “Have I apologized for keeping you waiting, yet?” Because he would. It wasn’t something he did often, much less meant, but Alex had always been a special case.

Theo disposed of the body without a word from her, and Alex smiled in satisfaction.

The offer was not entirely expected; inconvenient though waiting had been it was of only minor importance, and since she had found him without overly much trouble, its importance didn’t rank high enough to merit the attention. Of course it made her smile anyway, and it was very much appreciated, but she shook her head, “I don’t recall, but it’s of minor importance. Your transgression is forgiven.” She paused, looking upwards (something that she was irritatingly familiar with, and not simply because she enjoyed star gazing) and then around the room, eyes staying on the remaining potions equipment for a moment before returning to Theo. “I suppose it means we’ll need to update the rules – Dimbleby can hardly be repelled by Bevans alone if there’s an entire contingent of smokers.”

“You have blood on your face, Teddy. It looks very dashing, but perhaps not the kind of adornment to wear about Hogwarts.” Her hand drew out of her pocket, holding out a handkerchief. It wasn’t a necessary gesture; a spell would do the work without chancing having to explain things to the house elves, but it was more… amicable. A confirmation that all was, indeed, forgiven. There was little Alex wouldn’t forgive Theo for, much less if he asked.

She smiled, “Liggy would probably be enthralled, though. You might even sway her from Kesali.” Her friend was certainly possessed of unique, and not entirely understandable, tastes, but to each their own! It was just that Alex would prefer Ligeia’s own not to be their temperamental charms professor.

He laughed quietly, at Alex’s suggestion, and accepted her handkerchief with a smile. The used terrycloth was tossed onto the table. “Outrageous,” he remarked, as he wiped carefully at his face. “Her affections are pure, strengthened by a similarity in complexion as well as disposition.” Although one may argue that their aforementioned peer was indeed the preferable of the two. Whatever she thought of him, Theo rather liked her, Ligeia, for her receptive manner regarding honesty, as well as a refreshing lack of hangups when it came to feelings. Specifically, the preservation of them. There weren’t many who would discuss matters such as blood pens with him, nor the grisly side of Potions. “I would be disappointed if she were so easily swayed.”

If only the rest of her House were so… pleasant. Barring Alex, herself, and one Blackwell in particular, Ravenclaw was in a deplorable state, housing little else but wallflowers and fools. He didn’t know how Alex did it.

Nor was he interested in finding out.

“In any case, please hold me responsible should I find myself caught in such a situation again,” Theo sighed, swiping along his jaw, beginning to work his way down his neck. Of course, his shirt needed cleaning as well, but it could wait. “Once was no one’s fault but my own curiosity, but twice would be…” He slanted her a dry, knowing smile, dimpled by a prevailing streak of blood. “Tedious.” He didn’t quite share Ezra’s taste in entertainment.

With the vial he circled the table, his figure warped and distorted by the wall of glass tank, jars, and beakers that had been set up behind the cauldron, as boiling liquids rushed from beaker to beaker. There was something to be said for newfangled, self-pressurizing creations reminiscent of those quaint muggle chemistry sets, and all of it was favorable. “Are we counting Avalon’s sub par attempt, then?” his voice came from somewhere behind it, as his bloodstained swelled behind the belly of one glass– only to swiftly disappear behind another. They had left before they could witness their classmate choking, but it had been easy to assume he would. Of course, anyone with taste would find Avalon Roth repellent, or at least as attractive as the next crippled dog one found limping along the side of the road—marginally cute, and something to take pity on. Or put out of its misery.

It was only fitting that he’d be lumped with the likes of Bevans, Kinsey and… Ezra. Hm. Wasn’t that regrettable. “And Hoult, too, I suppose,” Theo mused, reemerging bloodstain-less and vial-less; his shirt was as bare as his hands, his wand tucked back into his pocket. “He smokes even more than Bevans, I think.” Though that certainly wasn’t the only reason why the bishop found him odious.

Alex didn’t contradict Theo regarding Ligeia’s feelings. She was sure that Kesali’s complexion did factor into it, but if that were the sole factor, then she would have been far happier if she’d latched onto Trumble instead; that was an indicator of how dire her opinion of the Charms professor was rather than a compliment to the Hufflepuff. But whatever misguided reasons her friend had, there was no point trying to sway her – hopefully, a change of heart would come soon.

“If it does happen again, I’ll lock the door and take bets on who emerges.” Theo would probably have Ezra’s support, but the others would be out for blood and they would be outnumbered. Still, he had a reasonable chance – Avalon, after all, could only cast non-verbal spells, and Phillip was a walking catastrophe… Hmm, perhaps the results wouldn’t be as unpredictable as she’d assumed, after all.

“Are we counting Avalon’s sub par attempt, then?”

Alex frowned, considering the question with apparent seriousness, “I don’t think he smokes regularly,” she offered, “Or at least, I haven’t noticed, and I don’t particularly care.” It was only of concern because of the potential it had to subtly alter the rules of chess, which was… a surprisingly large concern. The rules were convoluted enough already, and needed to be set out firmly in order to prevent argument. “Leave it as it is,” she decided, “and we can change the rules if need be.” They probably would need to, eventually.

The mention of Hoult had Alex’s lips thinning in irritation. She didn’t have any problems with him personally, so long as she didn’t have to engage with him, but he did make running duelling club the slightest bit harder than it needed, where slight was intentionally misleading as the problem was an overgrown Slytherin with a temper even worse than Bevans’. “Fine,” she agreed, “I’ll make a note of it later.”

She sighed, it certainly made sure that the game was interesting but she sometimes wondered if it was worth keeping up with the habits of their classmates. And it meant that the rules were a mess, full of crossing out and completely lacking in structure.

“Does your Blackwell smoke?” she asked, curious. Of course, she was referring to houses rather than personal affiliation, as although she, and indeed Theo, were friends with Blythe, her personal opinion of Bran was considerably worse. It wasn’t that he didn’t have some good qualities – he wasn’t stupid – but he was obnoxious, and self-centred, and the insults they traded were a little too barbed to be good-natured. She sighed, “Actually, I don’t care. At this rate, she won’t be able to move at all.” That was another problem with the rules. “Have you finished with The Princess Bride yet?” It had been leant to Theo a little over a week ago, and while it was a relatively short period of time before requesting a book’s return, Alex was always reluctant to give up books in the first place.