The Worst Kind of Partner [Max - 2027]

[Rowena Jones]

Place: Hogwarts Time: December 2027 Characters Involved: Max/Rowena

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There were two things Rowena Covington hated right now in the world. Potions. And Max Kameren. Actually scratch that, she hated the professor who had seen to partner them up for this stupid ridiculous excuse of a project too. Amortentia?! With Kameren! Had Professor, sorry Headmaster Kameren, not thought to leave notes to his successor over who to never partner together EVER!? ARGH! She stormed down the corridor, messy unbound hair flying around her and amber eyes flashing angrily. Several students jumped out of her way, casting worried glances over their shoulders at her retreating presence. Rowena Covington was on the warpath again and woe behold the poor git who had the misfortune of being on the receiving end of her fury.

Her rage was somewhat diminished by the time she reached the Dungeons, but all it took was one glance at the rude, impertinent note grasped tightly in whitened fingers to refuel the fire. To think the infuriating little wanker had summoned her as if she was readily available to do his bidding whenever he pleased! As if she didn't have a million and one other projects and assignments to be doing! Or other social activities that might have taken up her time... that she didn't do social activities was besides the point! He had no right to tell her to meet him in the Dungeons so they could start this awful potion. She'd just been about to send him the message telling him when they'd start it and the prat had beaten her to it. The whole affair was impossible and she was going to give him a piece of her mind. 

She charged into the room, finger already out and pointing in his direction accusingly. "I am busy Kameren! Some of us actually have work to do and carefully planned schedules that YOU will have to work around! How dare you summon me like I am your dog," she spat. "I don't need you for this project so how about you do us both a favour and piss off and I'll just do it alone. You can just sit back and coast along like you do with everything else." Was he better at Potions than her? Yes. But that was all the more reason to work by herself. She'd hex him if she had to see his stupid smug smirk because he thought she hadn't done something just right. 

[Max Kameren]

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Strangely for a student so talented in a certain subject, Max loathed Potions Class. The weekly hour was always his longest; he hated the dark dungeons, hated the smell of the stone walls moist with centuries of cauldron steam. He hated pretending to read the books he’d had to read years earlier, taking notes on things he already understood, and sitting through a lecture he could give himself. It was suicidally boring and never failed to bring back bad memories. As the son of the previous Potions Master he’d grown up seeing it all.

Unfortunately Max’s dismal attitude towards potions appeared to have the opposite intended effect: the new Potions Master was fascinated by his combination of skill and apathy. Instead of challenging him with more interesting potion preparations, however, she instead played with his chemistry within the class. He’d been moved four times for speaking this semester, and somehow each homework assignment Max turned in was met with progressively more stringent guides compared to his peers.

And now it was time for her masterpiece: the dreaded group project. Naturally, she would pair her tortured protégé with the only element of Potions Class that Max hated more than anything: proximity to Rowena Covington. And to craft an Amortentia Potion at that, as another little twist of the knife. The Gryffindor had groaned loudly when he got the assignment, glaring at his professor but succumbing to his fate and penning a note to Covington to summon her to the Dungeons when he finally had time to craft the blasted thing:

Covington,

Meet at the Dungeons after classes tonight. It needs the weekend to stew. 

I’ll try to make it simple for you.

-Max

The note had not had the reassuring desired affect he’d intended, apparently, as Max felt her presence roiling up the hallway like an oncoming storm. He sat back on his chair with his feet up on the desk next to his cauldron, ready for whatever tirade was coming at him.

"I am busy Kameren! Some of us actually have work to do and carefully planned schedules that YOU will have to work around! How dare you summon me like I am your dog," she spat.

“Not my schedule Covington.” Mac countered, cocking his head up at the Ravenclaw currently burning a hole through his brain with her aura. “Potion’s stronger when it sits a couple days. It’s in the textbook. Wrote it in my note. Did you read either?”

"I don't need you for this project so how about you do us both a favour and piss off and I'll just do it alone. You can just sit back and coast along like you do with everything else."

At that insinuation Max couldn’t help but laugh; he pushed his legs down and stood, leaning on the table behind him and looking into his prepared cauldron. Even with his laughter, though, irritation twinged at him: he didn’t coast, if anything he juggled too much. So what if he sat bored through just his Potions Class? Maybe he was bored now because he’d already done the work Rowena was doing now ahead of time? He tried to stuff the annoyance down before it hit her and he turned away, pulling out his textbook and opening it to their assigned page.

“You? Make a potion alone? I want to pass this class Covington, or my perfect ‘coasting’ record will be ruined.” He beckoned her over, starting a fire under his cauldron with a flick of his wand and a muttered Incendio. “Now come on, we’re doing this now, or at least I am.” His green eyes flashed up with an amused smile, “Unless you want to each made a separate one and compare whose is better…?” His would win, they both knew, and that would drive her mad.

[Rowena Jones]

“You? Make a potion alone? I want to pass this class Covington, or my perfect ‘coasting’ record will be ruined.”

Screw waiting to hex him for smirking, Rowena thought, her fingers twitching as they grasped her wand. Irritation swirled around her, anger colouring her cheeks at his words. The insinuation that she would fail was almost unbearable. She had never failed a single thing in her life thank you very much! Just because she was on track to only get an Exceeds Expectations for Potions and suddenly she wasn't good enough for Mr. I already know everything there is to know about Potions. She didn't miss the complete boredom on his face while she was writing down pages and pages of notes to ensure the proper outcome.

The growl that left her throat when he beckoned her over shocked even her and she glared, arms crossed, refusing to move an inch closer. “Now come on, we’re doing this now, or at least I am.” His green eyes flashed up with an amused smile. 'Now come on?!' Did he really think she was going to obey him when he talked to her like that? As if she was being the petulant child, or a stubborn pet... maybe his stupid girlfriend was fine with being ordered around like a gormless idiot, but Rowena was not!

“Unless you want to each made a separate one and compare whose is better…?”

One of them wasn't going to make it out alive. That was certain, Rowena thought as she fumed in his direction. The arrogance of the man! He knew, he knew he was better than her in this one subject. One fucking subject and he lorded it over her like he owned Hogwarts. And she supposed now that his dearest daddy was Headmaster, it was only going to get worse! Thank Merlin she was almost out of this place and she could move forward with her life, go to Mungos and never have to see his stupid smug face ever again.

But he'd got her. He was better, his potion would be better, and he'd hold it over her head for the rest of the year if she went head to head with him. At least if they did it together she would always be able to maintain that it was a joint effort. But she swore that if he even tried to micromanage her, she'd curse him until the day he died. 

"Fine," Rowena huffed eventually, "but your fire's too hot. It's supposed to be a slow simmer when we start, not a raging inferno," she pointed out, warily moving closer to him. "Have you at least got the Ashwinder eggs ready? And I guess I'll start chopping the Wiggentree roots, " she reached around him to take the ingredients and put them on her chopping block. 

[Max Kameren]

“Now come on, we’re doing this now, or at least I am.” The girl was insufferable to be around. He apparently couldn’t say anything right; anything short of affirmative encouragement was met with hostility that felt like a hot poker resting in the back of Max’s head. He was suddenly glad he’d prepared ingredients ahead of time; the less time around Covington, the better. “Unless you want to each made a separate one and compare whose is better…?” 

The barb hit her straight to the bone, Max could feel it with a satisfied smirk and an angry twist of the heat in her aura. If being around her caused him physical pain he could at least inflict a little back he mused, and his smirk widened to a grin as he felt her concede his point and give in to his demands. His point was objective fact: Max was better at potions. He was the best in the school, most likely, and it tormented her.

"Fine," Rowena huffed eventually, "but your fire's too hot. It's supposed to be a slow simmer when we start, not a raging inferno," she pointed out, warily moving closer to him.

“It’s not time to simmer yet anyway, I’m just warming it. My cauldron’s got a thicker bottom to it than most so it needs to be prepped.” With a wave of his wand he turned the flame down to soothe his partner's worry. Covington would soon find nearly all of Max’s potions equipment was specialized in some way; it made it easier to customize the potion, making it more effective. Tuning the potion to its purpose was what Max enjoyed most; it made Potions less a tedious recipe to be followed, more a personal test at problem-solving. That narrow space for creativity was where he thrived, and what made Potions fun. It was why he would be pursuing it further after Hogwarts and hopefully to St. Mungo’s, far away from Rowena Covington. Max flipped open his textbook to the proper page and scanned his margin notes to refresh his memory.

"Have you at least got the Ashwinder eggs ready? And I guess I'll start chopping the Wiggentree roots, " she reached.

Max ducked to pick up his bowl with the prepared Ashwinder eggs as Covington reached around him to get the Wiggentree roots. “Good idea: you chop, I’ll brew.” With a dowel he poked holes in the shells of each Ashwinder egg, a tendril of turquoise smoke emitting as he did. He caught himself staring at her knife as she chopped, judging her technique quietly as he worked. Contrary to the agony of her emotional state in class, she looked like she was doing fine. What was the problem then? He arched a curious brow at her as he cracked the eggs into the waiting cauldron filled one-third with nectar-water, brought to Ms. Covington’s Very Specific Simmer.

[Rowena Jones]

“It’s not time to simmer yet anyway, I’m just warming it. My cauldron’s got a thicker bottom to it than most so it needs to be prepped.”

Rowena sneered. Of course Mr Too Good for Standard Issue had a specialist cauldron, she thought to herself. Merlin, he just couldn't do as the rest of them could he... argh she had to stop getting annoyed by him or she wasn't going to be able to stay here for the duration needed. Better to just focus on the Potion and then she could get out of his infuriating company. Only a few more months to go and then she could say goodbye to Max Kameren forever. 

"Have you at least got the Ashwinder eggs ready? And I guess I'll start chopping the Wiggentree roots, " she said reaching around him to take the ingredients and put them on her chopping block.


“Good idea: you chop, I’ll brew.” 

The witch glared at him as he poked holes in the shells of each Ashwinder egg. That was not what she had said and if he thought she was letting him brew such a delicate potion by himself, he had another thing coming. She'd admit, only to herself, that he was the better Potioneer but she also wouldn't put it past him to do something to ruin it just to ruin her life even more. And since he was the better of the two, the mistake would be blamed on her. And then, because he was Mr. Perfect, he would still probably find a way to get full marks while she'd be docked. So there was no way Rowena wasn't going to watch Max Kameren every step of the way. 

Nor was she going to give him any reason to pick holes in her technique, she thought as she chopped the roots into perfect 0.5cm slices. Precision was key in a good Healer and Rowena planned on being an excellent one. Potions has at least given her the chance to practice such deft hand work but even she was pleased with the result. She smirked up at Max as she caught him watching her, before turning her knife so that she could crush her carefully cut pieces with the flat of the blade. When she'd finished that sticky step, she put the crushed roots into a beaker and added a sprinkle of bee pollen before beginning the extraction process.
All she had to do now was wait until they had exactly 5 drops of sap. 

With that completed, she turned to observe him cracking the eggs into the nectar-water, waving her wand to lift the jug of Moondew juice and hovering it carefully above the cauldron. As soon as the last egg hit the water she tilted the jug so that it trickled in a steady stream into the simmering liquid. No doubt Max would have something to say about her not pouring by hand, but Rowena was beyond confident in her Charm work. She glanced at Max, waiting for him to stir the mixture and the subsequent change of colour of the liquid that would let them know the temperature and ingredients were correct. If not they'd have to start again. 

"Have you heard when they're putting out the sign up forms for Apparition Classes?" His father was Headmaster after all. Surely he got some information before the rest of them. There had been gossip all week amongst the 7th years about when they'd be able to sign up for the specialist class, it was due to start after the Christmas break after all.  

[Max Kameren]

“Good idea: you chop, I’ll brew.” Max felt the bristle of her stringent aura at his suggestion but ignored it, and for a short time they fell into silence. It was a blessed silence; Max wasn’t good with small talk, least of all with people he had little in common with like Covington. With a steady headache starting in the back of his skull from her presence, the less they interacted the better. If her aura grated on him this way, her voice would only compound it.

When the eggs were added Max stirred the cauldron with a copper spoon, making the liquid at the bottom of the cauldron swirl like the smoke tendrils he hoped would soon be rising from it, if they brewed it correctly. He took Rowena’s ingredients as she prepared them and added them according to the textbook, at times tweaking measurements if he wasn’t sure how the potion was reacting. He shrank away from the Moondew jug as she lifted it, arching a brow at her warily as she began to pour.

“Slower,” He chided, brow furrowed in concentration as he continued to stir the liquid in the spiraling direction as instructed.

"Have you heard when they're putting out the sign up forms for Apparition Classes?"

“Nope. I know what you know.” Max saw what she was digging for and he would not be courting conversations about his father today. If anything Covington was currently more on speaking terms than Max was with Headmaster Kameren. Max’s relationship with his parent had been strained for years, but since the dawn of his Empathy and now Curse biting off more than he could chew at Hogwarts the arguments never ended. For him the end of the semester couldn’t come soon enough. He could retreat to the Muggle World in London with his mum, visiting Carol next door and enjoying a world where his name didn’t mean a thing. It had been tedious living in the shadow of his father and his childhood tragedy when he was Potions Master, but now as Headmaster it was entirely unbearable.

Max pulled the copper spoon out of the potion as he finished his rotations, biting his lip in anticipation. Sharp emerald eyes urged the potion to change; he let out a breath he was holding in relief as it began to lighten to an opalescent blue with fain wisps of turquoise steam curving upwards into their faces. “Perfect.” He smiled to himself, taking a step back and checking his watch. “Let it simmer fifteen minutes while it bakes itself a top film, scrape that off and we’ll be nearly there.” The Gryffindor sat back on a stool, finally relaxing as the potion filled the room with pleasing aromas. This wasn’t the worst assignment he’d had from the new Potions Master; if he was going to have his sixth sense assaulted by Rowena Covington, may as well be making a potion that was pleasing in other ways.