Chapter Text
Yahaba spared a moment, briefly, to wonder what he’d done in a past life to warrant the torment of his current one.
Killed someone, maybe, he thought gloomily, chin in his hand, as he sat in the Potions classroom. Beside him, exuding a natural heat and presence that made Yahaba feel all prickly and awkward, sat his worst enemy for all seven years of his schooling – Kyoutani Kentarou.
Normally he would be sitting next to Watari, his fellow Slytherin classmate, maybe exchanging jokes when Professor Oikawa wasn’t within earshot. Instead Watari sat somewhere behind him, probably thrilled to be paired up with that pretty Hufflepuff girl. And Yahaba was here, next to Kyoutani, saying nothing and feeling sulkier by the minute.
At the front of the classroom, Professor Oikawa had launched into an enthusiastic lecture about the fascinating properties of the potion they were brewing today. Out of spite, Yahaba was tuning it out. Ordinarily he hung on the former Potions prodigy’s every word, but it was the professor’s fault he was in this situation to begin with.
Well, perhaps that wasn’t entirely true. It was Yahaba who’d gotten in an argument with Kyoutani on their first day of seventh year classes, an argument which escalated quickly – as most of their arguments did – and resulted in (minor!) destruction of property. So, not entirely the professor’s fault, for pairing them up in an effort to force them to get along.
It was mostly Kyoutani’s fault, then. For saying what he did, acting the way he did around Slytherins. For being so naturally infuriating, without even trying.
“Alright!” the professor said. “With that, you may begin brewing. Remember what I’ve told you, and brew with the utmost caution. Start!”
Shit. Yahaba jolted upright, realizing that due to his desire to boycott the lecture, he had no idea what potion they were even making. He glanced at the blackboard as the professor made his way to his desk at the back of the classroom.
Amortentia. There was a cauldron full of it in the center of the room, so that they would know what it was meant to look like when done properly. After flipping to the correct page in his textbook, Yahaba strode over to the potion to examine it.
It was lovely, actually, for such a nasty thing. The pearlescent coloring, the spiraling steam…and the wonderful fragrance, smelling of burning incense and something vaguely floral, as well as a scent Yahaba couldn’t quite identify. It was spicy and masculine, and somehow familiar, although he couldn’t think where he’d smelled it before.
Satisfied with his examination, he headed back to his seat. And his doom, probably.
To his annoyance, Kyoutani hadn’t even moved from his spot. He’d at least opened his textbook, but he was just sitting there, looking about as pleased as Yahaba felt.
Yahaba loomed over him, thankful as always for the advantage of his height. “Let’s get a move on, then?” he suggested.
Kyoutani looked up, scowling. “Just because we have to pair up now, don’t think I’m gonna take orders from you.”
Yahaba suppressed the urge to smash something again. That’s what got him into this to begin with. Instead, he rolled his eyes.
“Well, I’m hardly going to let you sit there while I do all the work, am I?”
Kyoutani snorted. “As if.” He stood up, finally, and followed Yahaba to the storage cabinet.
Working together was immensely strained and awkward at first, but eventually they managed to work out a system that allowed them to brew while saying the minimum amount possible to each other. And then it was actually…not terrible. Kyoutani was surprisingly adept with his hands, so he took over preparation of most of the ingredients. Yahaba added them and did the complicated stirring, keeping an eye on it as it passed through various phases. It was quiet, but somehow the awkwardness faded out as they worked efficiently. Yahaba had always enjoyed potions, but he’d figured Kyoutani would be useless as a partner. Not so, maybe.
Toward the end of the period, Yahaba stirred the potion, and then frowned. Despite their efficiency and their system, it was looking distinctly un-mother-of-pearl colored, and was in fact starting to bubble strangely.
“This doesn’t look right,” he said, biting his lip.
Grunting, Kyoutani stood up from where he was stooped over his textbook and approached the cauldron. They peered into it together.
Something exploded, very close to Yahaba’s face.
He gasped and shut his eyes reflexively, right as a second, louder explosion happened. Liquid spattered his face and got in his hair and mouth, but luckily his eyes were spared. Kyoutani sounded less lucky, if the howl of pain was any indication.
Yahaba kept his eyes shut, so that he could continue pretending for a moment that their love potion hadn’t just exploded in their faces. Surely nothing good could come of that.
“What. The. Fuck.” Kyoutani’s voice was a growl.
Yahaba opened his eyes. Unsurprisingly, the entire class was staring at them. Some looked shocked, others (mostly Yahaba’s housemates) looked like they were trying not to snicker.
“Shigeru! Ken!” Professor Oikawa practically flew over, eyes wide. “Are you alright?”
Was he alright? Yahaba paused to take stock of his emotional state. Physically he felt fine, that wasn’t a concern. The issue was…how did he feel about Kyoutani? He checked, staring at the boy across from him. He looked ridiculous, head and shoulders coated in the sort of oil slick-colored liquid their potion turned out. The only thing that kept Yahaba from pointing and laughing was the fact that he could feel that he was in the same state. But other than the desire to laugh, he felt…not a lot. That was surprising in its own way. In the past, when he’d thought of Kyoutani, he’d felt anything from mild annoyance to burning rage, depending on how long ago they’d argued. But after working with him today, achieving the temporary peace they had, he found that anger had simmered off into…curiosity?
“It got in my eye,” Kyoutani said. He was glaring at Yahaba. “And my mouth.”
“It got in my mouth too,” Yahaba shot back. Kyoutani glared harder, like this was his fault somehow. Which it was most certainly not. Some of that familiar anger bubbled up.
“Yes, but…how do you feel?” Professor Oikawa looked between the two of them, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he realized they were physically unharmed. “It was meant to be Amortentia, after all.”
“I don’t feel particularly lovey-dovey, if that’s what you mean.” Kyoutani said, still glaring.
“Thank god for that,” Yahaba said icily, leveling him with a nasty look of his own. But it was a relief that he, too, was not feeling the effects of a love potion.
“Now, now,” Professor Oikawa said, starting to look almost amused. “You two should get to the infirmary. Obviously you have not brewed Amortentia. There’s no telling what possible effects this could have had.”
“Yes, sir,” Yahaba said gloomily. Kyoutani just grunted, finally removing his laser glare from Yahaba so he could gather up his things. Yahaba did the same, as the professor vanished the mess from the surrounding area of the explosion.
They had to keep the mess on their faces, however, so that Takeda-sensei could test it as well as them. It was a small mercy that there were still a few minutes of class left, and the halls were deserted. Yahaba walked as quickly as possible, which was quite quickly given his height. He could hear Kyoutani struggling to keep up with him, and resisted the urge to smirk.
Takeda came bustling out of his office when he heard them enter the infirmary. His eyes widened as he took in their state.
“Oh dear,” he said, face turning sympathetic. “Potions accident, I presume?”
“Got it in one,” Yahaba said, attempting a smile. It didn’t quite work. Although he didn’t feel any different, he found himself fretting over what any potential tests would show. Nothing, hopefully, but somehow Yahaba doubted it. It was never nothing with magic.
Takeda used his wand to siphon the liquid off their faces and into glass vials.
“I’ll test these,” he said, nodding firmly, “And you as well. After class, I’m sure Professor Oikawa will come down to help me analyze the potion.”
Yahaba felt a bit relieved at that. He had the utmost confidence that Professor Oikawa, given his skill, could sort out whatever mess they’d made.
They laid back on the infirmary beds as Takeda ran tests on them, surrounding them both with multicolored auras that flowed from his wand. Takeda had insisted they spend the night in the infirmary, “just in case.”
Yahaba spent the time thinking sadly of the dinner feast that was currently occurring, according to the clock on the opposite wall. Finally, Takeda lowered his wand.
“Well, boys,” he began, and Yahaba knew instantly from his expression that he’d found something. “There is definitely some sort of magic at work between the two of you. With further analysis, we’ll be able to determine exactly what is going on here.”
“Shit,” Kyoutani said, and for once Yahaba wholeheartedly agreed with him. Ingesting a misbrewed love potion was not likely to glean any positive results.
“Language,” Takeda said, but he offered a smile. “I don’t believe it to be anything life-threatening. And Professor Oikawa should be down any minute now.”
As if summoned, the infirmary doors flew open and Professor Oikawa entered.
“Anything?” he asked Takeda, after pausing briefly to look Yahaba and Kyoutani over.
“I was just telling the boys, I’m detecting some sort of link between their magical signatures. The nature of it is unclear, however it doesn’t appear to be an immediate threat.”
“That’s what I’m here for,” Professor Oikawa said, cheerful. “To make the nature of it clear. Worry not, pupils!”
“Great,” Kyoutani muttered under his breath. Yahaba shot him a glare. He shot one back. They began an all-out glare battle until Takeda cleared his throat to remind them that he existed.
“We’ll spend tonight analyzing, and in the morning we should have an answer for you two!”
Am I going to like that answer? Yahaba wondered.
And then the teachers went into Takeda’s office, leaving him alone in the room with Kyoutani.
An awkward silence descended. More to break it than anything else, Yahaba cleared his throat and said, “What do you suppose they’ll find?”
“How the fuck should I know?” Kyoutani grumbled, barely audible from the next bed over.
Yahaba tried again. “Do you think it’ll be something bad?”
“What, are you chickenshit or something?”
Yahaba sat up, and Kyoutani followed suit, and they glared at each other.
“What’s your problem?” Yahaba asked, frustrated. All they’d done since the accident was glare. A lot.
“My problem? Gee, I wonder,” Kyoutani made a mock thoughtful face. “Maybe it’s that I’ve just ingested a fucked up potion and it’s doing fuck only knows to my magical signature, and I got the shit in my fucking eye, too!”
“It’s not my fault,” Yahaba said, gesturing wildly. “We both worked equally on that potion. If we fucked it up, it’s both our faults.”
“If we fucked it up?” Kyoutani’s eyebrows rose. “I think it’s pretty fucking clear we fucked it up.”
Yahaba narrowed his eyes. “And I suppose you think snarking at me this entire time is going to make this any easier?”
Kyoutani paused, frowning. “You snark at me just as much. Besides, you’re the one trying to make stupid small talk.”
“It’s not small talk!” Yahaba burst out, and then remembered he was trying to be the bigger person. “I mean.” He cleared his throat. “It’s definitely not. I was asking if you had any insight into what’s going on.”
“You think I’d have more insight than your precious Professor Oikawa?”
Yahaba scowled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Uh, I don’t know, that you’re a total teacher’s pet?”
To his horror, Yahaba felt himself flush. “Some of us just know how to be polite to our elders,” he said coolly, in an attempt to divert attention from that.
“Right.” Kyoutani rolled his eyes. “Or suck up to them.”
Yahaba pressed his lips together. “You suck,” he said, finally, unable to stop himself.
Kyoutani glanced up, surprised. And then he did something unexpected – he laughed. Not a sneering laugh (Kyoutani didn’t really do those), but a deep, almost friendly-sounding laugh.
Yahaba opened his mouth, confused, but Kyoutani held a hand up as his laughter subsided. His cheeks were pink. Yahaba stared.
“You’re incredibly strange, did you know that?” he asked.
“Whatever,” Kyoutani rolled his eyes again, but he turned over in his bed so that his back was facing Yahaba and didn’t prolong their argument. Did that mean Yahaba had won?
He leaned back against the pillows. Now that it was quiet again, and less awkwardly this time, he could hear the faint murmur of the teachers’ voices from the office, and little else.
Eventually, house elves came carrying plates of food from the feast, which Yahaba was immensely grateful for. So grateful that he was able to refrain from commenting on Kyoutani’s appalling table manners.
He’d been certain that he would get no sleep that night, but with his stomach full and the lights dim, his eyelids grew heavy. Before drifting off, he glanced over at Kyoutani. The other boy was reading a book by wandlight. It illuminated his face oddly, making it look softer in some places. Yahaba watched him mouth the words as he read for a moment, then turned away and promptly fell asleep.