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Draco missed the writing in small script:
Beware to only add .05mml of bauldee extract at a time.
“Fuck,” is barely out of his mouth before the cauldron in front of him blew up.
“Draco?” Potter yelped as the crashing sounds of feet on wood descended towards the temporary lab. He stepped through the door, hair a mess, glasses nearly falling off, and chest heaving with each breath. “Are you okay?”
“I almost died again but it should be fine,” he replied nonchalantly.
“Draco!” Potter yelled once again and started moving forward.
“Stop!” Draco immediately shouted and Potter at once obeyed. “Vanish the potion vestiges, they’re lethal.”
“What the fuck,” he whispered but still complied all the same. “Everything’s good now?”
“It should be.” Draco brought a hand to his forehead—he hadn’t even noticed how sweaty he’d gotten—and continued moving it toward his hair, brushing it softly. When he pulled his hand back, locks of hair came with it.
“Shit.”
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