Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
It’s true what they say. Once the lid’s blown off the potion, it’s extremely hard to slam it back on. And so it seems it’s the case with me and Horatio.
All that sexual tension that’s been bubbling away between us, the tension building and building and building and building, has finally exploded.
And now we’ve thrown caution to the wind and succumbed to our desires, we can’t keep our hands off each other.
The sex is wild, non-stop, and the best I’ve ever had.
And by the time I stumble from my bedroom somewhere around mid-morning the next day, I’m weak-kneed and struggle to walk. But despite now officially earning the title of Sex Goddess, I do have responsibilities, which include feeding my dog.
I blow tufts of unruly hair from my face and, with a smile big enough to be seen from outer space, hobble into the kitchen–living room area, where I find not just McGruff perching on the sofa, but Damien too.
“Jeez,” he mutters, looking unimpressed. “Didn’t think you guys were ever going to stop.”
“How much did you hear?” I say, my hands flying to my face.
“A lot. You’re very noisy when you’re enjoying yourself. I think most of Hampstead heard you.”
“Terrific,” I mutter, sinking down into an armchair, my cheeks boiling.
“I thought we agreed you were keeping your hands off Mr Hottie.”
I place my hands neatly in my lap, attempting to adopt a neutral expression on my face.
“Who says it’s Mr Hottie in there?”
“I recognise his voice,” Damien says. “He has a very distinct grunt.”
I drop my head into my lap and thread my arms over my head. “Please stop talking,” I tell him.
“Anyway,” Damien says, paying no attention to my obvious embarrassment and distress, “I come bearing a gift.”
“A gift? For me? What is it?” I ask with suspicion, peering up at him.
He holds up a little bottle between his finger and his thumb. “Fairy’s toenails, already ground up and ready to go.”
I spring upright onto my feet. “But I thought it wasn’t going to be ready until Monday?”
“Julian came good early,” he says, tossing the bottle up into the air.
I reach up and catch it in my hand, staring down at the contents sparkling through the glass of the bottle.
“And these are genuine?”
“One hundred per cent,” Damien assures me. “I tested it myself.”
I decide not to ask how he tested it or how he knows. I’m not sure I want to be haunted by that piece of information.
“Hey, Damien,” Horatio says, emerging from my bedroom, dressed in my white silk dressing gown. Damien’s eyes nearly bulge straight out of their sockets. “What’s going on?” Horatio asks, his gaze swinging to me and the bottle in my hand.
“We have it,” I say. “The last ingredient for the reversal potion. I can start brewing it right away.”
“Right away?” Something flickers across his face.
“Yeah,” I say, trying to keep my voice bright and breezy. “It’s going to take me all day to brew, even with Damien here helping me.”
“I don’t remember saying I’d help you,” Damien mutters.
“You did,” I insist.
“I can help too,” Horatio points out.
“Seriously?” I ask him.
He nods.
I grin at him. “Then maybe you could take McGruff off my hands for the day. He can be a bit distracting.”
We all look towards the dog, who’s currently slurping away at his butthole in a very noisy manner.
“Right,” Horatio says, a little stiffly. “Come on then, buddy. We’re obviously in the way here.”
McGruff yaps in response and, to my surprise, follows Horatio straight out the door and off to his flat.
I stare at the closed door for several moments until Damien snaps his fingers right in front of my face.
“Satan’s cockles,” he mutters. “It’s even worse than before. I told you not to do the deed.”
“I’m only human, Damien. And you know how we’re designed. The temptation was too great. And,” I add, swaying slightly on my feet, “totally worth it.”
“Oh yeah?” Damien tilts his head to one side.
“Totally,” I say dreamily. “That’s the best twelve hours I’ve ever spent in bed. He actually made my toes curl and I magically orgasmed three times in a row!”
Damien grimaces. “Actually, I really don’t want to know about all these dirty little details. Let’s just get started on the potion, then everything can go back to normal.”
“Right,” I say, trying not to let that feeling of melancholy infiltrate my good mood. Because everything’s been just wonderful, and I’m not sure I want it returning to normal.
But like every dream, you have to wake up eventually. Every good thing has to come to an end. And it’s only fair on Horatio. It’s not just the girlfriend/boyfriend thing that’s been fake. All of this has. And all due to my stupid exploding potion.
Horatio deserves real love. The real deal. Not something magically induced.
I leave Damien chopping ingredients, while I shower and dress, then rejoin him in the kitchen, and together we begin the difficult process of brewing the reversal potion.
It’s a lot harder than brewing the original love potion, and that was difficult enough. It requires a lot of concentration, and soon Damien and I are feeling the strain, squabbling with each other about the size of the mandrake root and how long to allow the willow bark to soak.
We keep on working though – right through lunch time – only pausing for me to grab a much needed sandwich at dinnertime, and then well into the evening.
By midnight, we’re both yawning our heads off and struggling to stay focussed.
It doesn’t help that I didn’t get an awful lot of sleep last night and also exerted a lot of energy.
But despite this, the potion’s looking good. A vibrant red – the colour of blood. I give it a sniff.
“It definitely smells like hazelnut,” I say.
Damien hovers his head over the giant pewter cauldron and sniffs too.
“Yes, but I think you still could add a pinch of mugwort.”
“Hmm, I’m not going to risk it. If we add too much of that, things could go too much the other way and he’ll end up, not just falling out of love with me, but hating my guts.”
“That would be normal, wouldn’t it?” Damien points out. “He often looked like he wanted to strangle you.”
“Yeah,” I admit.
But still I don’t add the additional mugwort.
Another two hours later and we’re both satisfied that the potion is ready.
“Are you gonna go and get him then?” Damien challenges, placing his hands on his hips as if he half expects me to refuse. Which I do.
“It’s two in the morning, Damien. I can’t wake him now. And also, I’m struggling to stay awake.” I yawn and rub my eyes. “It’ll have to wait until the morning.”
“I want to be here when it happens,” he says.
“Why?”
“To make sure you actually do it.”
“Don’t you trust me?”
“I don’t trust anyone.” He points his finger at me. “Call me in the morning.”
And then, with a pop! he’s gone.
I stagger back to my bedroom, opening the door to find it smells of Horatio’s aftershave and sex. A lot of sex. I fall into bed, not even bothering to remove my dress, yank the sheet up over me, and fall asleep dreaming of all the delicious things we’d done the night before.
I wake to the door buzzer and the yapping of my dog. I turn over, moaning, and peer towards my alarm clock. It’s 9 a.m. on a Sunday. This feels familiar.
It takes me a minute to remember all the events that have happened over the last few days – the exploding love potion, the fake dating, the enormous amounts of sex, all culminating in a day spent brewing a love potion antidote.
I peer down at my body, realising I’m still wearing yesterday’s now crumpled clothes, groan, and speed off towards the door.
I find Horatio and McGruff on the other side, waiting for me. Horatio has a cup of coffee and a bag of pastries.
“Wanna join us on our Sunday morning walk?” he says. “Or are you still in the land of nod, sleepyhead?”
“It is still an ungodly hour of the day, Mr Shaw,” I point out.
“And yet you’re already dressed.”
“Yeah,” I say. “Not quite.”
I usher them both inside, helping myself to the coffee in Horatio’s hand and taking a large gulp. I used to hate this stuff, but I’m definitely developing a taste for it.
“I actually wore these clothes to bed,” I confess, placing the coffee cup back on the counter.
“Why?”
“We were up late brewing the potion.” I point towards the cauldron on top of my stove. “Took us all day and most of the night.”
“Wow,” Horatio responds. “Maybe you did deserve a lie-in this morning.”
I shrug. “I’m up now.”
Jeez, as well as a coffee lover, am I also becoming a morning person? What has happened to me?
I walk towards the potion, prise off the lid, peer down, and take another sniff, pleased to find I’m still satisfied with my work. Horatio joins me, and McGruff sniffs around our feet.
“That’s it?” he asks. He sniffs too. “Doesn’t smell too bad – although it looks revolting. Are you sure you actually brewed a potion and didn’t just drain a body?”
“We’ve discussed this before, I’m a witch, not a vampire.”
He looks up at me, his blue gaze meeting mine. “Is it going to do weird stuff to me? Does it have any strange side effects?”
“Oh, apart from turning your dick purple, absolutely none at all.” His eyes widen in horror and I laugh. “I’m joking. There are no side effects. None at all. Not even a little stomachache or sore throat. In fact …” I dip my finger into the potion, and pop it into my mouth, “it tastes quite good.”
He takes my finger from my mouth, and sucks it into his own, licking at my little finger and waking up all those sleepy butterflies in my stomach.
“Do you want to take some now?” I ask him, in a trance.
“Or,” he says, “we could skip the potion and the walk and go straight back to bed.”
I’m about to concede that suggestion when there’s a loud pop!
Both of us groan.
This time it isn’t my sister or a Magical Enforcement Officer. It’s Damien.
“I told you to call me,” he says. “You’d better not have started without me.”
“Started?” Horatio says.
“He means the potion,” I say.
“Ahhh.” He winks at me.
“We were actually going to go for a walk first,” I tell Damien.