Enchanted

Part 1
Love Potions & Entrancement Enchantments

Harry sighed, running a hand through his untidy jet-black hair. He couldn't wait to get out of class, and for good reason. With Valentine's Day coming in a few weeks, every student in the school was being forced to learn about Love Potions with Professor Severus Snape. That was bad enough, but it caused them some pleasure to see that Snape certainly wasn't pleased about it either. He seemed to have developed a twitch whenever he said those two unspeakable words ('Love Potion') or looked at the softly simmering pink liquids in their cauldrons.

"I hate this," Ron said for about the eighth time in five minutes, adding one frozen, red Ashwinder egg into the brew, the final ingredient to their potion. "It smells like a perfume factory in here." Scents of roses and other various aromatic herbs and flowers were the last smells you would possibly expect in Snape's eerie Potions dungeon.

"I thought Love Potions weren't allowed at Hogwarts," Hermione grumbled, bitterly remembering the article Rita Skeeter had written in their fourth year about her using one on Viktor Krum. She leaned against the back of her chair and crossed her arms firmly over her chest.

"Well, you should know, shouldn't you? I'm sure there's a whole bloody section about it in 'Hogwarts, a History.'" She made a face at Ron and started to open her mouth to tell him that he would really benefit if he borrowed her copy sometime, but he decided to answer her question instead. "They aren't, but I guess Professor Dumbledore doesn't think we'll actually use it. I suppose he just wants us to learn as much as we possibly can about a variety of things," he explained.

Harry snorted maladroitly. "And Love Potions can help us defeat Voldemort by making him fall for us?"

Lavender Brown looked horrified, her elbow brushing a sachet and accidentally scattering rose petals in varying shades of red and pink onto the grimy, stone-flagged floor -- but Hermione and Ron sniggered, despite the name.

"It could prove in useful anyway," Hermione said thoughtfully as she stirred the potion, changing her mind.

"Well," Snape barked from his desk. His eyes were squeezed tightly shut, like it was causing him great torment to have to endure the endless classes with every House and year. "Class is over. Clean up your area, and I want a two parchment essay on anything dealing with Love Potions, due Monday. Now get out!"

The class packed up their supplies quickly and ran out the door, eager to be out of the classroom. It was incredible; they had always thought that Snape's class couldn't get any worse -- and they were proved utterly wrong once again.

"So," Draco Malfoy said, as everyone emptied out into the drafty corridor. "Gangly, I'm sure that lesson was easy for you. Was that the potion you used on Viktor Krum, or was it a lot stronger? It must have been hard to make anyone like you." Crabbe and Goyle sniggered for support, but a bit too late, as usual.

"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry warned. He could sense that Hermione was still thinking about that.

"Harry, let it go," Hermione said patiently, grabbing onto his arm before he tried to punch Malfoy or whip out his wand and hex him. "Just ignore him. He's just bitter because he has a complete lack of a love life. ...Unless you count Pansy Parkinson!" she remembered, giggling.

"You leave her out of this!" he said threateningly, cold gray eyes blazing.

"No, let's bring little pug face right into this," Ron said.

His eyebrows furrowed. "Don't you insult her--"

"Ooh, someone's in love!" Ron went on in a sing-song voice.

Malfoy was about to retort, but by then, all the Gryffindor boys were all snickering and taunting him, and a passing throng of first-years had dissolved into a chorus of "Malfoy and Parkinson, sitting in a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N-G!", which was very immature, but still pretty embarrassing.

It easily got on Draco's nerves. "I am NOT in love with Pansy Parkinson! I could never love *her!*" he hollered, and it echoed all throughout the corridor.

There was a great cry of anguish, and a girl came whizzing past them with tears in her eyes. It was Pansy Parkinson, clearly. Her dog-like face had been all screwed up and she looked incredibly hurt. Blaise Zabini and the rest of the girls went following after her, shooting Malfoy looks of loathing.

"Pansy, I--" he began weakly, but she was already long gone.

"Aw, look, you made your girlfriend cry!" Dean Thomas said. "You better go after her...you know, kiss and make up..."

"You shut up!" Malfoy said furiously, whipping out his wand. His gray eyes slid from Thomas, to Finnigan, Longbottom, Potter, Weasley...all of them were very likely candidates to curse. And then something flickered behind his eyes like a torch being lit in a pitch black chamber. He pointed his wand with an outstretched arm at the victim he had decided on. "Granger, this is all your fault!" He muttered a spell and waved his wand. She tried to move away, but it was too late. Pink and magenta sparks shot out directly at Hermione, though she just stood there, looking fairly unaffected.

"What was it?" Harry asked her quickly, looking anxious.

She shrugged. "Beats me. I didn't feel a thing."

Draco answered their question with a nasty, smug smirk. "It's a sneak preview of our next Charms lesson," he explained, his grin increasing more by the second, "the Entrancement Enchantment." Then he said, as if instructing Hermione, "This is where you fall in love with your best friend. See you later!" He and his goons walked off, sniggering, though Crabbe and Goyle were probably as puzzled as the three Gryffindor friends were.

"Hermione, are you really okay?" Ron asked, concerned.

"I'm fine," she said calmly, slinging the strap of her bag over her shoulder and flipping her bushy brown hair over it. "I think the spell backfired. Actually, I'm sure it did. I mean, how would Malfoy know anything about Entrancement Enchantments?"

"Suppose it did work," Harry said slowly. "Really, do you know anything about them, Hermione?"

"Of everything I've ever read and studied, I stayed away from Love Potions and Entrancement Enchantments," she told him. "It just wasn't my kind of thing."

"So it could be working," Ron said. Harry and Hermione noted the hopefulness in his voice.

* * *

Harry ran to the Great Hall quickly, almost tripping on the hem of his robes as he went through the entrance. He hadn't seen Hermione or Ron all morning, so he had gone to the library and done some research by himself. It was about time for lunch now, and he was curious to find out what they had been up to. He instantly spotted Ron, due to his flaming hair, which stood out easily in the hall. He ran over anxiously.

"What is it?" Ron asked through clenched teeth, his brown eyes only flickering over to Harry and then focusing back on the boys sitting across the table from him. He had been having a profound conversation with Seamus and Dean about the only thing wizards and all boys their age seemed to talk about anymore, besides Quidditch -- girls. Attractive Ravenclaw ones in particular.

"It's about the enchantment -" Harry began.

"Tell me later," Ron said, waving one of his large hands, brushing aside the matter like a pesky fly. "Dean said he could get me a date with someone for the Valentine's Ball." Which actually was quite a big deal, because Padma had told basically every girl in their year that he had been a horrible date.

"But it's important -" he said impatiently.

"Did you not hear the fact that Dean can get me a date?" There was a flat, firm edge to his voice now.

Harry sighed and rolled his emerald green eyes behind his glasses. "Fine." Knowing Ron, Pigwidgeon could suddenly drop dead, and he wouldn't care, if had a girlfriend. So he figured he should talk to someone who would really listen. "Have you seen Hermione?"

"She's probably in the library," Ron said automatically, obviously hoping to ward Harry off.

He was most likely right, so Harry sped off again. He jetted right by Snape, who, luckily, was so infuriated with teaching how to make Love Potions to the entire population of the school that he didn't even notice Harry for the first time since he started Hogwarts.

As Ron stated and Harry guessed, Hermione was in the library poring over a particularly thick volume, completely absorbed within its aged, yellowed pages and oblivious to the rest of the world, like always. He walked right up to her table, where she also failed to notice him.

"Hello," he said, after clearing his throat to get her attention, unsuccessfully. He pulled out a chair and sat down in the seat next to her.

Her head instantly snapped up when she heard the sound of wood scraping across wood. "Harry!" she cried in shock, slamming the cover of the book. "Hi!" He noted how unusually high-pitched she sounded -- but how couldn't he? It was several pitches higher and could probably break glass. "What's up?" She jammed the book into the shelf to hide it between all the other ancient, thousand-page books, after a fit of sneezing, from all the dust she had created, subsided.

"Something wrong?" His news was important, but it was nothing compared to her odd behavior. His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Something you're trying to hide, maybe?"

"Not at all!" she squeaked, and then giggled rather nervously. "Why?"

"Well, you seem a bit --" He paused and searched for a word that fit, but wouldn't seem too callous. "--jumpy." However, it was a horrible understatement.

"Jumpy? Me? No, not at all. So what brings you to the library?" she asked quickly, her brown eyes darting all around the large bookshelves that loomed over either side of them, to the librarian, Madam Irma Pince, whose hawk eyes occasionally glanced over in their direction. Hermione realized she must have been really loud.

Harry just had to get used to it. After all, nothing would keep him from telling the information he had discovered. "Well, I already went to the library this morning, and I was researching something. You know, the Entrancement Enchantment."

Hermione gulped, hard and audible. She was sitting quite rigid in her chair now. Harry couldn't help but watch her, losing his train of thought. She never once looked into his eyes, or even at him, for that matter. After a few minutes of awkward silence, Harry began again.

"Anyway, I was checking up to see how it worked, just to make sure it didn't actually work on you. You know, like a Slow Acting Venom that takes a while to sink in. Apparently it does. I mean, the person enchanted gradually develops a crush, but then it speeds up and goes along faster than a normal crush."

"That's -- that's nice," Hermione said in a choked sort of voice. "So you think it could be working?"

He nodded. "And get this -- you know how Malfoy said that you would fall in love with your best friend?" She nodded her head, remembering Malfoy's delighted leer as he said, 'this is the part where you fall in love with your best friend.' "Well, he was right. The spell makes you fall for the person you're closest to, who isn't by any chance related to you. It can completely disintegrate your crush on someone you currently like."

"Really," was all she replied unenthusiastically after a while.

Hermione wasn't as shocked as Harry had expected her to be. Since she wasn't understanding the concept of 'conversation' at all, Harry decided he should just keep talking. "So I narrowed it down to two people: Ron and...well, me." He began to feel as uncomfortable as Hermione had been, and right now, she looked about ready to leap out of her seat and dash off any minute. "So if we want to counteract this thing, if we can, I think...I hope... Besides finding out how we would accomplish that, we first have to find out who you're going to fall for before it gets too out of hand."

"So you want to know who my best friend is?" she asked, to make sure, although it was more rhetorical than anything else. "Well, isn't it obvious? You've seen the way Ron and I constantly argue and disagree."

"They say opposites attract," Harry said, shrugging his shoulders.

"I hope not!" she said a notch too loudly, attracting more glares from Madam Pince and studying students, and curious looks from other people. She blushed a bit, giving everyone a sheepish, rueful smile, before turning back to Harry. Again, her eyes determinedly avoided his. "What I mean is...Ron is my best friend, but I could never, ever think of him that way, even if he has a crush on me or not."

"So it's...me," he said slowly.

Hermione shot him an exasperated look. His facial expression was so much more unsure than it needed to be. After all, it didn't take a genius to figure that out, let alone someone who had just met them. "Admit it, Harry, you knew it all along."

He nodded guiltily. "Well, it was actually just an assumption --"

She interrupted him, with nervousness apparent in her facial features. "So how long until this stupid thing starts?"

"Oh, it's hard to figure that out exactly. But I tried anyway. If my calculations are correct, I'd say..." He checked his new watch that Sirius had given him as a birthday present to replace his one that had been broken after being underneath the Black Lake for over an hour. "Two seconds."

"Wha --?" Suddenly, her eyes became sort of glossy, and she sat a bit more stiffly. She seemed to be going through a slight fit; she trembled and shook all over. Harry wasn't sure what to do it except wait it out. When it all stopped and she blinked her eyes open, she seemed different somehow, and the way she looked at Harry made him get goosebumps all over. "What was I talking about?" she asked dreamily, gazing at him.

"Oh --- uh...I don't remember either." He realized that his face was now on fire.

"What's wrong, Harry?" she asked inquisitively, leaning closer to him and placing a cool hand on his forehead, directly over his infamous, lightning-shaped scar. Her fingers smoothed away a few stray, disobedient bangs, and her palm lingered over his skin longer than neccessary to discern if one was hot or normal. "I don't think you have a high temperature, though you are a bit warm. Your whole face is scarlet, did you know that?"

"Err...yeah." He fidgeted in his seat.

Hermione just smiled down at him and removed her hand -- albeit it gradually. She let it slide down one side of his eyes, over the side of his glasses, and then paused, cupping his cheek. His eyes followed her progress down his face. With her index finger, she traced the smooth line of his jaw, on which, to her surprise, there was a bit of a stubble developing. Harry's breathing was getting rather ragged, as she moved her hand down his throat. It finally rested on his shoulder, but she didn't settle back in her seat. Instead, she stayed as close as possible to Harry, leaning against him and practically in his lap.

"Maybe we should go," he suggested uncomfortably, slightly nudging her away.

"Where?" she wondered, her bright, brown eyes sparkling more than ever.

"I dunno, the common room?" It was the first thing to pop up in his head. There were always a bunch of people congregated around the common room. Hermione wouldn't dare pull anything like she was doing right now over there -- but wait, the library was still a fairly public place...

"And what are we going to do there?" she asked rather mischievously, giving him a grin that gave him goosebumps.

"Uhhh...or we could catch up with Ron," he said hastily, "and visit Hagrid's or something--"

She leaned over until their faces were inches apart. "How about we do something together...alone?" she whispered softly.

His eyes widened, looking even more magnified from his lenses. "Ummm...maybe that isn't a good idea --"

"Did I mention you look better without glasses?"

That caught him off guard. "What?"

She smiled and removed his glasses, his vision becoming blurry. "You look a lot cuter this way."

"Did I mention that I can't see without them?" he said hurriedly.

She sat down on his lap, dangling his glasses between her fingers. She looked him squarely in the eyes. "Good."

"Hermione, I don't think we should be doing this here," he said, glancing somewhat blindly at the many students whose attention had been averted to the two of them and an unmistakably cross Madam Pince.

"All right," she murmured. He breathed a sigh of relief. "Where should we go then?"

"You know, I meant --"

"I know what you meant," she said quietly, but firmly.

"Well, that's good. Then you know we shouldn't be doing this at all." This time, he spoke with force.

For a person under an enchantment, that worked incredibly well. She sighed dejectedly and returned to her original seat, clutching his glasses in her fingers. She leaned her head back, staring up at the ceiling that went on about twenty feet high above them, and she closed her eyes. "I understand," she said, dismayed.

"Huh?" He was really surprised; it was a known and proven fact that people under spells weren't supposed to, and ultimately couldn't, listen.

"I'm trying to fight it, Harry," she said in a diminuitive voice, which wasn't the floaty, flirtatious one she had been using earlier. "Trying to be brave...like you."

*Can you fight an Entrancement Enchantment?* he thought, perplexed. Well, he figured if you could, Hermione should be able to manage it. He grinned at her encouragingly. "Good for you. Keep going at it then."

She giggled girlishly. "Going at *what*?"

His grin rapidly faded away and turned upside down. He buried his head in his hands and rested his elbows on the desk. It was hopeless.

"Is something bothering you?" she asked gently, though it wasn't a pleasant voice for Harry to hear. He could practically sense her coming closer to him. "Look, I'm sorry if I did something...but you have to tell me what's wrong first."

She tenderly pried his fingers away from his face and smoothed out his bangs. "You must be having a hard day."

"You could say that," he muttered, shutting his lids and covering up his eyes 'as green as a fresh pickled toad' that every girl seemed to lose herself in. His expression was very depressed and tense.

"Awww," she whispered. "I can try to make it all better..." Then she closed her eyes and leaned forward.

Harry opened one eye momentarily to see what she was doing, but then he shut his eyes again, purely instinctive. He exhaled, and he noticed that his breath was a bit shaky. Hermione brought her face closer...and closer...until -- their lips met for one millisecond --

"Ahem!" Madam Pince cleared her throat volubly to alert them of her presences. She was evidently irritated -- probably nothing like this had ever happened before. Their heads drew apart and snapped up to face her. She wasn't irritated -- she was seething. "I do believe you know the library and school rules - no making out in public places where students are present!"

"No, we weren't -" Harry said desperately, blushing crimson, aware of all the eyes in the room on him.

"I think I'd be able to tell, Mr. Potter!" she snapped, thrusting a finger to point at the exit. "Now, both of you -- out!"

"Come on," Hermione whispered, taking his hand and entwining her fingers around his. "We'll find someplace a bit more...*private.*"

The way she said 'private' sent an odd chill all down his spine. "No, Hermione --" he begged, but she was leading him out the door already, and there was really nothing he could do.

"Don't worry," she replied.

He could have laughed. How could she possibly tell him not to worry, when worrying was the only thing he really could do? He also had other problems, dealing with his senses... "But I can't see!" he exclaimed, remembering that she was still holding his glasses in her grasp.

She giggled delightedly, in a bubby, air-headed way. "Perfect. Now shut your eyes then, to make sure."

"But --"

"Do it."

He rolled his eyes, which felt very bare without his familiar glasses, but he obliged in the end, for a reason he could not muster, even weeks later. "Come on, where are you taking me?" he demanded.

"Somewhere private," was all she would say. The walk seemed endless to Harry, maybe because his lack of sight, but he continued to drag his feet, one after the other over the flagstoned ground that the caretaker, Argus Filch, kept dazzlingly clean. Occasionally, he'd trip over the steps on a staircase, and Hermione had to guide him. Then he got his leg caught in the trick step Neville always forgot about, and it took about five minutes for Hermione to heave him out. Yet, their walk went on; through doors, behind tapestries, up staircases, down some, and straight down multiple corridors.

Just when Harry was considering performing a spell on Hermione, retrieving his glasses, and running far, far away from her, she seemed to sense it. "We're almost there," she assured him. "Don't worry."

*She said it again!* he thought to himself, frustrated. *How can she expect me not to worry?!*

Luckily, or not, Hermione wasn't lying about being close to their destination. A few minutes later, they halted. "Fewmets," she said, enunciating the syllables.

(Fewmets are dragon droppings, just so you know. Weird password, true...but you know, dragons, Harry Potter...get the connection? It's from 'A Wind in the Door,' by Madeleine L'Engle. It's a good book, just so you know. Anyway, back to the fic --)

"The Prefect Lounge?" Harry said in mild surprise. "But no one comes here anymore --"

"Exactly the point." Harry could just picture her wide grin, as she led him past the bronze statue of a griffin and inside the lounge. They stopped when they got inside. "Now you can open your eyes." Relieved, he blinked a few times and waited for his vision to clear. It didn't -- until she finally handed him his glasses, which he promptly put on.

He already knew what he would see -- a cozy, but spacious room with a few comfortable armchairs and poufs in front of a huge, blazing fireplace that surpassed the size of the one in the Gryffindor common room. Elegant portraits of elite, proper people, who were all past prefects, murmured in hushed tones to each other. Also on the wall were rich, elaborate tapestries of magnificent castles, fine oak tables, and antique lamps. It was practically like their common room, but less crowded, more secluded and quiet, and more decorated. Also, the colors weren't only scarlet, but a deep violet (ghetto fabulous purple! [inside joke, sorry]), the other House colors, and other dark gem tones.

"Come on, Harry, sit down," Hermione said, gesturing towards a nice, velvet loveseat.

"You know, Hermione, I just remembered that I had to --" he started, trying to come up with a lie off the top of his head.

"No you don't," she said firmly, unrelenting. Of course, even under the enchantment, she could tell if he was lying or not. After all, he was pretty horrible at it, and he knew it. "Look, would a few minutes of relaxing kill you?"

"Well, yes, maybe...you know if the circumstances were something like -- I dunno, say -- *Voldemort were back to power* -- wait a minute, he is," Harry said dryly, completely abusing sarcasm.

"We're safe at Hogwarts," she said softly.

"Or so we thought in our fourth year," he muttered under his breath.

"Oh for god's sake, Harry, just sit down already!" She sounded bossy and aggravated, much like her normal self.

"What?" he said, taken aback.

"Please?" she asked, returning to her normal -- or not normal, rather -- tone. "I won't bite you."

*Yeah right,* he thought darkly. *Who knows what you'll do under this stupid spell?*

"Come on, please, Harry?" She gave him a very convincing puppy dog look, which was far too pathetic than she would ever allow herself to look, even in front of her best friends.

"Oh, all right," he said reluctantly, settling down next to her. "But I have a surprise for you...close your eyes." She obeyed, beaming widely, anticipatingly. "All the way," he added when he saw the open slits. She shut them tightly. When he made sure that she couldn't see anything, he did something he wanted to do ever since he found out the enchantment had really worked --

He ran out of the portrait hole and down the hall as fast as he could.

~End - Part 1~