cfdiggorys:
his head is pounding in a way it hasn’t in a long while - z is unused to getting ill, but apparently the world hates him enough to stick him with a cold only days before he’s due to complete a rather large translation of an old roman’s autobiography. it’s rather dry, boring and hardly magical. something to pay his rent for the month, at least. the door to the potion shop tinkles in his ears, irritating even if it weren’t painful. he huddles his way to the counter, barely looking up. “i need a pepperup potion.” he mumbles, voice croaky, eyes darting across the countertop, towards the shelves. “fuck it,” he amends, looking up then, scanning the merchandise. “an exstimulo, too, if you’ve got one, and, uh….” he looks down at the barely healed scrapes on his hands. they itch with the memory of how he got them. “murtlap essence, too.” @scorpiustm
it had been a pretty slow day at the shop, and while sometimes that meant time dragged on, scorpius was okay with it. it gave him time to brew more potions than he normally got to in a morning, and it felt good to renew the shop’s supply on his own. so much so that he was in his own little determined world until the ringing of the bell struck his attention. the standard ‘can i help you with anything?’ died in his throat as he caught sight of the poor soul in front of him. “you’re in luck, i’m just finishing up a fresh batch of pepperup. it’ll be ready in a couple minutes.” scorpius recognized z from hogwarts and some interactions here and there. were they best friends? no, but they were amicable, and he certainly felt bad for how sick he looked. “exstimulo . . . ” he trailed off, turning around to search the cabinet, coming back with a couple vials of it and his other request. “and some murtlap essence. although i’m not sure that’s going to help your cold, i’m afraid.”














