#James is like why does the potion smell like Regulus' shampoo

[arviyya]

Thanks @imsiriuslyreading for the tag :)

This is a snippet from my ongoing WIP I just started posting on ao3.

Regulus and James brewing Amortentia in class as forced partners.

James short circuits.  Regulus isn’t even standing close anymore. He's at least a pace away. James takes another whiff from the cauldron. Yeah, the smell he thought he smelled is definitely coming from the potion. Maybe it's because it’s not finished yet; maybe they messed it up. He clenches his jaw. He knows it's perfect. It always is when they brew potions together. So–what? "Potter?" Regulus prompts again.  "What–oh right," and just like that James adjusts his expression so that he’s wearing a casual grin. A grin that isn’t reaching his eyes, no matter how hard he tries. He chances a glance at Regulus, who’s eyes are narrowed. "I think we only need one more drop of liquid gold after this stir and then it should be done."  James can tell that his voice is shaky and his heart hurts with how hard it’s hitting his ribcage. The irrational part of his brain hopes that Regulus can’t hear it. James is fine. He really is, but it's amazing how hard it is to act fine when you’re paranoid that someone else can tell that you aren’t. But he is, though. He’s fine. He’s just fine.   Regulus sends the drop into the cauldron at the exact right moment, and as the drop hits the liquid, the whole potion becomes a brilliant pink color.  James chews on the inside of his cheek, happy that Regulus is distracted looking over the notes and ingredients and doesn’t notice him staring. There’s something in the way that Regulus’ eyes tighten at the corners, something in the way his brows furrow above them. James doesn’t know how anyone would be able to miss what’s so obvious. It’s all in his eyes, just how perturbed Regulus is. Before that day in the woods, James was sure that Regulus was made of stone. Now, he can see right through him as though he’s made of water. James can’t help but wonder, if Regulus were to look at him right now, would he be able to see James just as clearly? Is it bad that James hopes he can?  “Potter, would you stop staring at me?” Regulus’ eyes sink shut as he leans over the table. “What’s the matter with you anyway–you look like you tried to eat a live dragon...”

No pressure of course but feel free to share a snippet :) @honeybcj @multiimoments @galaxostars @hues-of-words @thatmoonspell

[onehundredflamingos]

29 & 30 / complex & fix / 390 words

@jegulus-microfic

“I have to be doing something wrong,” James muttered to himself, stuffing all of his things back into his book bag. He was scrambling to get out of the potions lab, too distracted to have packed up on time with the rest of the class, because he kept messing up his potion.

Now he was going to be late to transfiguration.

“Is potion brewing too complex for your tiny brain, Potter?” Regulus asked, setting his things onto the work desk. Slytherin must have the course next.

“Ha ha,” James laughed, deadpan. “I’m trying to figure out why my amortentia is coming out wrong.”

“Does it not smell enough like Evans to sate your desperation?” Regulus asked coolly.

James shook his head.

“It smells like coconut,” James leaned forward to smell Regulus’ coconut shampoo. “And peppermint,” he leaned in to smell the mint melting over Regulus’ tongue. “And my mom’s baking,” he finished, finally standing and slinging his bag over his shoulder. “That can’t be right, can it?”

Regulus looked up at him with wide eyes, cheeks tinted pink and the haughty look entirely absent. He swallowed hard, Adam's apple bobbing harshly.

James had originally been concerned that he was brewing the potion wrong, that some mix up in stir count or ingredient timing had resulted in an incorrect scent, one that was reminiscent of his best friend’s little brother, but now…

Now he almost hoped the scent was right, that there were unrealized feelings for Regulus simmering right there beneath the surface of his soul.

“No,” Regulus croaked, shaking his head vehemently. “You need a tutor.”

James hummed thoughtfully. “Think you can fix me up, Regulus?” James purred, learning far too close to him as he made his way toward the door.

“No,” Regulus said again. “You’re an idiot.”

James threw his head back and laughed. He had forgotten the way Regulus’ quips felt, like he intended for them to bite, but forgot to add any of the malice. “I’ll be here at ten tonight, if you decide you can help me after all.”

James finally walked out the door, the heat from Regulus’ eyes following him the entire way, James’ own brimming with hope.

Hope that Regulus would find him that night. Hope that their perfectly brewed amortentia would fill the room with nothing more than the overwhelming scents of each other.