Chapter Text
Potions.
Aka, Bruce Wayne’s least favorite class.
It wasn’t that he was bad at potions, he just found the whole ordeal maddeningly boring.
Not like Defense Against the Dark Arts, which—the right teacher provided—Was an amazingly thrilling class.
But nooo. It was Wednesday, which meant potions.
“You’re brooding again.” Bruce turned upon hearing the all too familiar sultry voice. Selena Kyle. The halfblood Gryffindor. His best friend.
“Am not.” He lied, crossing his arms.
“Yes, you are.” She laughed, pressing his nose. “Let me guess, potions?”
“Double class with Ravenclaw.”
“Ah, I see. You’re just upset that the muggleborn is going to do better than you.”
She was partly right, much to his annoyance. The only thing that got Bruce through the pain that was potions, was knowing that he would be top of the class.
But if it was a double class, the academic validation that he craved would be taken away by somebody he hadn’t even met yet.
Yes, they hadn’t met, but Bruce already knew him. Edward nashton, the muggleborn.
“Well, I’d better get going if I want to make it to history of magic in time. I’ll be seeing you, Wayne.” Selena left no time for a response before she briskly walked up the stairs to her next class.
He sighed, and headed in the opposite direction, towards the dungeons.
Edward had always loved potions.
In his mind, each potion was like a puzzle, a riddle, just waiting for him to dissect; to solve.
It also just happened to be one of the most practical classes. He often smuggled out small portions of his completed brews and hid them in his dorm “for an emergency.”
But the best part was when Ravenclaw shared a class with the Slytherins.
The raging glare that Bruce Wayne gave him when the professor praised Edward’s potion over the pureblood’s was much more satisfying than any grade.
In short, potions was his favorite class.
So there he sat in the front of the class, cauldron at the ready, waiting for class to begin.
The steady stream of Slytherins strode into the classroom, although the Wayne wasn’t among them.
This didn’t surprise Edward, as he tended to be a loner.
But still… class was about to start, and he was nowhere to be seen.
“Alright, class. No need for workbooks today, I’ll be walking you through the lesson in detail myself.” As soon as the professor finished their sentence, Bruce ran into the classroom, clearly disheveled.
“I’m so sorry I’m late, professor.” He apologized, raking a hand through his hair.
“Don’t let it happen again, Bruce. Take a seat.”
Edward turned his attention away from the raven haired boy, choosing to focus on his pitch black cauldron instead. This distraction was unfortunately short lived, as he heard someone sitting next to him.
It had to have been Bruce. But why would he possibly…?
A quick glance around the room told Edward all he needed to know: there wasn’t any other available seats.
He was going to be stuck with Bruce Wayne for the entire lesson.
The professor smiled and began the lesson. “Today, we will be brewing-“
“Hi, I’m Bruce.” Edward looked down at Bruce’s outstretched hand, then back at his face, which had an awkward smile painted on.
He didn’t take his hand. “I know. Edward.”
He slowly lowered his hand, smile becoming more strained. “I know.”
Edward raised an eyebrow, skeptical.
Bruce immediately rushed to explain. “You’re always top of the class. Had to figure out who was beating me.”
“Mister Wayne, mister Nashton,” the professor called, interrupting their conversation(? Edward wasn’t sure what to call it.) “I’m going to need you to focus.”
Both boys mumbled out apologies, promising not to let it happen again.
“Wonderful. Now, to begin, add fifteen rose petals to your cauldron.”
Bruce was thankful it was a simple potion.
The ingredients seemed a little girly, but the further they progressed, his insides warmed.
He had no way to explain the fuzzy sensation creeping into his heart, but he didn’t really seem to mind.
Edward, however, seemed like the world was about to end.
His nose was constantly crinkling up in disgust with each ingredient added to his cauldron, and by the time they added the final ingredient (crushed peppermint), it seemed as if he was one more whiff away from running out of the classroom.
“Smells like pumpkin pie.” Bruce remarked. “But we didn’t add anything that would make it smell like that.”
“Really?” Edward spat maliciously. “Couldn’t tell over how much cologne you put on. Honestly, do you bathe in the stuff?”
He swallowed, then looked at the board.
“No.” He whispered, color draining from his already pale features.
Bruce looked at the board as well, seeing what all the fuss was about.
One word stared at him, but he didn’t understand why it would affect the muggleborn so much: Amortentia.
Edward fell out of his chair.