cutis draconis (dahlia)

A decent reference book had to be old, musty, yellowing and written in a semi-distinguishable style of English that was lost in the middle ages. The one Comarth had selected from the library was exactly that: it was also almost as big as the entire table and weighed the same amount as a small child, which is what you wanted. In the small space of table that was left over, he had several bottles of different liquids and a patch of material which he was pipetting onto.

Occasionally, a small curl of smoke emitted from contact. Other times, nothing happened at all. One time the material turned bright cobalt blue, which he briefly admired the effect of before shaking his head and taking a note of it.

This definitely wasn't anything to do with any formal dance, nor was it anything to do with studying for his OWL examinations, and that was exactly why he was doing it. All anyone seemed to talk about these days was either/ or and he was beginning to grow tired of it. This was, in his eyes, a well-earned rest.