Potion Making For Disastrous Witches, page 1
Potion Making For Disastrous Witches
Obscure Academy #4
Laura Greenwood
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Epilogue
Author Note
Also by Laura Greenwood
About Laura Greenwood
© 2022 Laura Greenwood
* * *
All rights reserved. This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means – electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording or otherwise – without prior written permission of the published, except as provided by United States of America copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher at “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the email address; lauragreenwood@authorlauragreenwood.co.uk.
Visit Laura Greenwood’s website at:
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Cover by Ravenborn Designs
Potion Making For Disastrous Witches is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Blurb
If there's one thing Michaela is good at, it's messing up potions and causing magical hiccups in the process.
* * *
And now she needs to make one or her friend will stay a slave to her curse.
* * *
Determined to get it right, she enlists the help of Owen, the best potion-brewing warlock at Obscure Academy.
As the sparks start to fly, the two discover they have more than just potion brewing skills in common.
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Potion Making For Disastrous Witches is a light-hearted witch academy m/f romance set at Obscure Academy. It is Michaela and Owen's complete story.
1
Michaela
* * *
The din of hundreds of students all talking at once is almost enough to make me scream.
Thalia gets up and waves to me from a table in the corner. I head over to her, grateful that I don't have to spend too long looking for her.
"Why is it so loud in here?" I moan as I dump my bag on the table. "I thought this was supposed to be a library?"
"It is."
"Then why is there so much noise?"
She frowns. "Why wouldn't there be? We're not on one of the quiet floors."
"There are quiet floors?" I echo.
Thalia lets out a light laugh. "You haven't been here before, have you?"
"I haven't had time," I admit sheepishly.
"How have you been doing all of your reading for classes without this place?"
"Mostly ebooks," I respond, taking a seat and pulling out my laptop. I press the on button so it can power up while we're talking. "And maybe not always doing the reading."
She flashes me a stern look before pushing her glasses back up her nose. She does that a lot. I'm not sure if it's a nervous tick, or if there's more to it. I've heard of some kinds of supernaturals who have to wear glasses for one reason or another. She could be a gorgon, I've heard they wear glasses. Or perhaps she's a succubus with an enchanting gaze that can make anyone fall at her feet.
I eye my friend.
Nope. Succubus isn't right.
"You know we're here to learn, right?" she asks.
"Have you been talking to my mother?" I quip.
She lets out a soft laugh. "No, but I have talked to mine. I was telling her about the first few weeks and all the events the academy put on."
"Ah, did it not go well?"
Thalia groans. "She reminded me that I was lucky to get a place here at all and if I wasn't making the most of it, then she'd withdraw her promise to pay my tuition."
My mouth falls open. "She said what?"
"That's just Mum. She's like that sometimes. I don't think she's seriously going to do it. She's too proud of me being one of the first..." she trails off.
"First?" I prompt, my curiosity piqued.
"It's nothing."
"Okay." I turn to my laptop and tap in my password.
Thalia stares at me, clearly not knowing how to process my response. "Okay? That's it?"
"Why wouldn't it be?" I cock my head to the side to try and show her that I'm not being sarcastic about this. "You sound like you don't want to talk about it and I'm going to respect that. We're friends, Thalia. I don't want to break your trust by pressuring you to tell me something you're not ready to."
"Really?" Her voice cracks, breaking my heart a little in the process.
"Of course. I know we haven't known each other long, but you're becoming one of my best friends. I'm here if you need me, but if you don't want to tell me something, you don't have to. I can lament over your mum with you without knowing the specifics."
A tear rolls down her cheek and she goes to move her glasses out of the way before freezing. "I need you to close your eyes," she says through the sniffs.
Weird, but I'm not about to argue with her now that I've said everything I have. I screw my eyes shut and wait until she's done with whatever it is she needs privacy for.
"Okay, you can open them."
I do as she asks and give her a slightly confused look.
Thalia takes a deep breath. "Sorry about that."
"It's okay," I assure her.
"Should I be worried about how relaxed you're being about me being super weird?"
I chuckle softly. "We're all supernatural, being a bit weird comes with the territory."
"Good point."
"And I've seen people do weirder things. I had a conversation with Fiona while she sat in the shower, drunk, with her tail out the other day."
"Ah, the pitfalls of drunk mermaids."
"Exactly. Every day has something weird going on. I love it." I imagine whatever she's uncomfortable about is to do with what kind of supernatural she is. I sort of get it. Ish. As one of the most common supernaturals, I've never really had to worry about what people will say when they find out I'm a witch, but I know some of the less common types have different experiences.
"I'm a gorgon," Thalia blurts.
I stare at her for a moment, mostly trying to process where her confession is coming from while putting together the pieces of what she's been saying ever since I met her a couple of months ago. So I was right when I thought that she could be a gorgon. It's good to know my powers of observation haven't degraded completely.
"A gorgon? That's cool, I don't think I've met one before," I say once I've found my words again.
She eyes me warily.
"Am I supposed to run away now or something?" I ask.
She flashes me an uncomfortable smile. "Maybe?"
"Not going to happen. You're my friend. It would be awful of me to turn my back on you just because you're a gorgon. Now if you go around turning all my dates into stone on purpose, that'll be another matter."
"I'll try not to," she promises, looking a bit more sheepish than I'd like. "You're really not freaked out?"
"Of course not. I don't like you because of what kind of supernatural you are," I point out. "I like you because you're trying to help me understand economics."
"I think I'm more of a hindrance than a help in that situation."
I shrug. "Maybe. But if that's true, then we'll fail together and I liked that."
The way she smiles reassures me that she believes what I'm saying, and that she realises I'm not about to turn my back on her just because of what she is. Though it makes my heart hurt to think about what must have happened in the past to make her feel like that could happen.
We turn our attention to the concepts we're supposed to be grasping for our lecture and all into comfortable silence as we work, asking the occasional question when one of us becomes particularly stuck.
It isn't until the alarm on my phone buzzes an hour later that I realise I haven't been paying much attention to the time. Probably not the best when I have places to be.
"I've got to get to my next lecture, but I'll see you tonight, right?" I get to my feet, hating that I have to leave her so soon after she's trusted me with her biggest secret.
"Sounds good." The look in her eyes breaks my heart. I can tell from the way she's watching me that she half expects me not to turn up.
But I'm going to prove her wrong. I'm not going to run away because she's a gorgon. Nothing about that changes the fact she's my friend, and it's not like I'll be hurt if I accidentally get turned into stone, I just won't be able to do anything for a little bit. It could be a handy way of getting out of exams.
Or bad dates.
I'm looking forward to finding out more about it, I've never knowingly met a gorgon before, and it's going to be interesting to learn more about her customs and experiences. If she's willing to share. I don't want to pressure her if she's not ready to share.
2
Michaela
* * *
I flick on the kettle and pull my mug out of my cupboard. I have plenty of reading to do before my lectures, but I'm putting it off for as long as possible. Sometimes it's great having the freedom to work on what I want to, but other times, it's hard to get started.
The kitchen door swings open, with Essie and Bernie stepping inside.
"Step away from the kettle," the fae warns me the moment she sees what I'm doing.
"I'm not that bad at making tea," I counter.
Essie raises an eyebrow and points at one of the chairs. "Sit. I'll do it."
Bernie chuckles. "She's not wrong. It's better if one of us makes it."
"It tastes fine to me," I grumble.
“And that’s why you’re not allowed to make it,” Bernie answers. “You genuinely think it tastes good?”
“I dread to think what her stews taste like,” Essie jokes as she starts making the three of us drinks.
“I’m not that bad,” I mumble as I collapse into one of the chairs. They’re not completely wrong. My lack of tea making skills extend to just about everything liquid that needs more than two ingredients. I’m just lucky it doesn’t stop me from making drier meals.
“Are you coming out tonight?” Essie asks. “We’re about to get ready.”
I glance at the window, somehow surprised that it’s already dark despite the fact Bernie is in the room. As a vampire, she has to avoid the sun at all costs. I used to think that the vampires would all room in a flat together, but it seems that isn’t the case.
“I was going to do some reading.”
“But coming on a girl’s night out sounds better, right?” Bernie comes to sit down next to me. “We’ve almost convinced Krissi, and Fiona has already agreed. It’ll be a girl’s night.”
Hmm. Staying in and reading my textbook ahead of tomorrow’s lecture, or a night out with the other girls who live in my flat? We all have our own friend groups that we hang out with most of the time, so it’s nice to go out with them once in a while. And we always have fun, though someone almost always breaks some kind of rule.
“All right,” I agree. “But only because you’re making me tea.”
Essie chuckles and sets down the mug in front of me. “You didn’t take much persuading.”
“My politics class isn’t particularly interesting at the moment,” I admit. “I realise that the politics of the Shifter Throne may be interesting to some people, but not to me.”
“Wasn’t there a new Shifter Queen crowned recently?” Bernie asks.
“I think so,” Essie responds. “But I can’t say I pay much attention. If you need a more interesting explanation of it, I think Jeremy was there.”
“Jeremy?” I raise an eyebrow. “As in our Jeremy?” Our sweet rugby playing flatmate doesn’t seem like the kind of person to get involved with politics, especially considering he’s only twenty.
Bernie shrugs. “I don’t know the ins and outs of it, but Krissi said something about it not long after they started dating. I think she said he knew the Shifter Queen.”
“And yet he lives with us and not in some penthouse somewhere?” I ask.
“Maybe he wanted to be with people,” Essie says. “He seems like a people person.”
“Hmm.”
“Anyway, that’s beside the point,” Bernie cuts in. “We need to talk about the game plan for tonight. We’re thinking classy but sexy when it comes to dress code, and then we’ll have a few drinks here before heading to Glimmer.”
“Glimmer’s fancy.” I’ve only been to the nightclub once. We normally go to one of the others.
“Because it’s girls’ night,” Bernie says. “And Essie wants to find a guy.”
“I do not,” the fae counters quickly.
“All right, then you’re looking for a girl.”
Essie rolls her eyes. “I’m not necessarily looking for anyone. But I’m not going to turn down the right person.”
“Mmhmm. Keep saying that, but remember I’ve seen the outfit you want to wear,” Bernie teases.
“It’s classy,” Essie protests.
“Classy and sexy, right?” I ask.
She narrows her eyes at me. “That wasn’t my idea.”
“Hey, none of us are judging you,” I point out. “If you want to hook up with someone, then I’m all for it. We’ll be your wing women.”
“That’s all I’ve been saying,” Bernie adds. “So long as you’re not going to end up destroying the flat in the throes of passion.”
“I’m not a nymph,” Essie responds dryly.
I perk up, interested to find out more. Essie hasn’t revealed what she is beyond some kind of fae. The term gets used as a catch-all for a lot of different magical beings, and I have next to no knowledge of how to tell them all apart. I suppose it doesn't matter. I know she's fae, and anything else is unnecessary. None of it changes that I like her as a person.
I take a sip of my tea before realising it's too hot and setting it back down. "So we're getting ready, having drinks, and going out?" I ask.
Bernie nods. "Are you drinking wine, or do you need me to make you a vodka coke?"
"I can manage vodka and coke." Anything more complicated than that and I may start having problems, but they don't need to know that.
"Good. See you in fifteen minutes?" She gets to her feet and starts to make her way towards the kitchen door.
"Just how quickly do you think it takes me to get ready?" I ask.
"You're a witch, it shouldn't take you long, right?"
I let out a soft snort. "Magic isn't useful for everything."
"Mmhmm, she isn't wrong," Essie agrees. "I knew a girl who tried to shave her legs with magic, she ended up having to go to the hospital."
I wince. "Oh yeah, I wouldn't be using magic for that. Waxing maybe, but nothing that involves sharp blades."
"Can't you just magic the hair gone?" Bernie asks.
I shake my head. "There's a couple of potions you can use that work a little like hair removal cream, but I've never actually used them for obvious reasons."
"It's best that you don't change that," Essie responds.
"How did you even find out you were bad at potions?" Bernie asks.
I sigh loudly. "About the third time my Easy-Boil-Cauldron exploded. My parents refused to buy me another one after that."
"But you aren't bad at spells, right?" She turns away from the door and sits back down, clearly more interested in my predicament than in getting ready.
A blush rises to my cheeks and my ears start to feel fuzzy. Talking about this is always difficult. At least they aren't witches and I don't have to deal with their judgement over things that could come naturally.
"I'm fine at spells," I assure them, patting the pocket holding my wand as I do. It's mostly habit to check it hasn't somehow disappeared in the past twenty minutes. "Spells and potions come from two separate places. So just because someone is bad at one, it doesn't mean they're always bad at the other."
"Huh. I wonder why that is?" Bernie muses. "It's kind of an all-thing for vampires."
"Don't you hate blood?" Essie asks.
Bernie wrinkles her nose. "It's not the best."
She's a peculiar vampire, that's for sure.
"The predominant theory among witches is that there used to be two different types, some that brewed potions, and some that did spells, but over time the bloodlines mingled and created what we know as witches today," I explain. "Though there's no actual evidence for it."
