Advanced Potions: The Love Potion

Advanced Potions: The Love Potion Chapter 02

Hermione woke up and stared out of the window of the seventh-year girl's dormitory. It was still pitch black, so she groaned and dove back under the covers. Malfoy's words kept echoing in her head..."What, Granger, you should be honored! No one would have wanted to be your partner, except maybe the select few that think that sleeping with Mudbloods is more to their taste!"

Would that always be what the pure-bloods saw? Not a clever witch, or a kind girl, but a filthy Mudblood? Tears rolled down her face as she sniffled and rolled over. Finally, she fell back to sleep and had disturbing dreams of becoming Mistress of Magic, but having a mob take the title away from her. "Mudblood, Mudblood!" the crowd chanted, their frenzied voices growing to a fever pitch. "Hermione, Hermione, Mudblood, Mudblood! Hermione, HERMIONE!!" She woke with a start as Parvati shook her awake.

"What?" Hermione asked groggily. Parvati and Lavender exchanged worried glances.

"You were chanting 'Mudblood' in your sleep; over and over," Lavender finally said. Hermione gave them a bitter smile and started to dress. "Just a bad dream," she said shakily. "Okay, but if you need anything-"

"I'm fine." Hermione cut them off.

Downstairs in the common room, Ron groaned aloud as he put his Advanced Potions books in his bag. "I've finished the essay," he said to Harry, "but I dunno. Snape will say my writing's too big, or something."

"Nah," Harry said. "He doesn't hate you that much!"

"I'll bet you ten sickles," Ron challenged, hands on his hips.

"Done!" Harry laughed.

"Gambling?" a haughty voice asked behind them. "I'm sure that your mum would not be pleased!" Ron and Harry turned around with dread, but realized to their relief that they would only have to deal with a giggling Hermione.

"Dang, Hermione," Harry laughed. "You're beginning to sound like Percy!"

"Harry!" Hermione clutched her heart in mock emotional distress. "That hurt!" Ron laughed as she wept into her hands with hysterical drama. Hermione grinned.

Shuffling into AP class, every student except the Slytherins in the class groaned as Snape walked in. "Ten points each from Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, and Hufflepuff for disrespect of their teacher. Ten points to Slytherin for being respectful, punctual, and prepared." Snape snapped.

"Take your homework out, now!" Snape paused before Ron's table. "Interesting theory, Weasley," Snape said, his lip curling, "but no, oversized writing does not count as the twelve inches I assigned you. Five points from Gryffindor for trying to get out of doing your assignment." Harry groaned and flipped Ron the ten sickles as soon as Snape turned away, while Ron smiled knowingly.

"Now, today we will actually brew the potion, which we would have completed last class, if you hadn't been whining so much about the partners for this assignment! This assignment will take a total of nine classes over a period of three weeks." The class exchanged horrified glances. "The first three classes will be to brew the potion. The next week, you will each test the potion, recording its effects on your thoughts and judgment."

"The class looked at Snape with horror, and then at their partners with distaste. The last week, you will be researching and brewing three more potions to compare to the Love Potions, comparisons including ingredients, effects, and antidotes. At the end of this assignment, I expect ten rolls of parchment containing a write up from each pair. Now, the ingredients are on the board." At this point, the horrified glances had evolved into murderous stares at the professor, Slytherins included.

"Ten rolls of parchment!" Ron hissed to Harry, who grimaced back.

Snape surveyed the pairs of students. Abbot was painstakingly adding something to the cauldron, and it misted over quite nicely, but Crabbe quickly dumped in the cicadas before the cauldron had completed the misting. The potion promptly turned a nauseating shade of yellow-green. How did Crabbe get in the class? Snape wondered. Patil--the first one, Padma, was doing a fairly good job on the potion with Finch-Fletchley, but the other Patil (Pivoti or something, no, Parvati, that was it) was arguing with Macmillan, and it didn't seem to be going well.

"Problem?" Snape asked, raising one eyebrow. "Professor, he's-"

"Professor, it's her fault, she-"

"Quiet, both of you! Macmillan, I hope that you have a good explanation for this!" Ernie Macmillan puffed up his chest with importance, as Parvati rolled her eyes. "Well, Professor, I know that we are supposed to add the powdered leeches after the potion mists, but Parvati seems to believe that we are supposed to add them before it mists."

"Idiots!" said Professor Snape. "You were supposed to add it just as mist began to rise from the cauldron!" The other pairs were doing about as well. Millicent Bulstrode was cracking her knuckles menacingly as Ron tried to brew the potion with shaking hands. Pansy was shouting at Harry for not allowing it to mist long enough, although the potion would still be fine. Hermione was working steadily, and Draco was standing behind her, though no one could see her face; her hair hid it like a curtain.

Draco was feeling guilty. Granger hadn't said a thing throughout the whole class, and she was usually chattering, correcting, and being a complete know-it-all. His heart ached, and he didn't know why. I don't have feelings for her; he said to himself, I just have a guilty conscience. Draco reached a hand out to Hermione, to comfort her, to redeem himself in her eyes, but hastily put it back. Malfoys don't apologize, he thought, I don't need to redeem myself in her eyes. Malfoys don't associate with Mudbloods. Ever!

"Sonorous," Professor Snape pointed his wand at his throat. "All right class," his voice, magically amplified, penetrated the room like a Muggle loudspeaker. "You must now leave the potions to steep. They should be a turquoise green right now. Homework tonight: an essay on Why the Ingredients Have the Effect of the Love Spell. One roll of parchment. Also, start working on your final writing piece. I expect to see those essays completed and on my desk at the beginning of next class! Class dismissed. Quietus."

Hermione quickly walked over to Harry and Ron, worrying, "Do you think that it will matter that mine is more of a turquoise teal?"

Ron groaned. "Oh, no!" Harry said, with a horrified grin and a high pitched voice, "Your potion might get half a point off!!! What ever shall we do?" Ron snorted and burst into laughter. "You may not be laughing when you take N.E.W.T.s, Ron, pay attention!" Hermione said owlishly, and then turned and left for the library. Harry and Ron didn't dare look at each other until after she left, but they soon gave in to temptation and a symphony of giggles followed Hermione's path to the library.

That night, Malfoy sat up in his bed in the private dormitory his father had gotten for him, thinking about Granger. He began to smirk out of habit, but then stopped, confused. There had been tears sparkling in her eyes during Potions, he was sure of it. "NO!" he said aloud, and then sat, shocked, as the noise reverberated around the room. "Draco, you don't have feelings for her. You don't. You can't go out with a Mudblood. Father would--"Draco paled at the memory.

*FLASH-BACK*

A blonde, eight year old little boy with silver eyes sat inside Malfoy Manor, staring out the window: waiting. Soon, he heard a loud crack, and he ran out the door. Outside was a handsome young man of twenty, with the same platinum hair and silver eyes as the little boy. "Dragonius!" The boy shouted, throwing himself into the young man's arms.

"It's nice to see you too, Draconius!" The man's eyes sparkled with laughter. "Guess what, Draco?"

"What is it, Drago? The boy's eyes widened as he heard the secret. "You got married? Wow! You''ll still play with me, right?"

"Of course, Draco, I will always be here for you." What a lie that was, Draco thought. "Do you want to meet my wife?" Drago asked, his voice betraying his pride, happiness, and love.

"I don't know, is she a girl? I don't like girls." Little Draco wrinkled his nose.

"Yes, she is, but you'll like her, I know I love her!"

"Okay, if you say so..."

Draco put a trusting hand into his brother's larger one. As they walked through the gates of Malfoy Manor, a feminine voice called out, "Drago, are you there?"

"Yes, I'm here, darling." They turned the corner and met a witch with brown ringlets down her back and warm chocolate eyes. Her eyes widened. "Drago, who is that? He looks just like you!"

"Anne, this is Draconius, my little brother." Draco stuck out his hand and looked her over carefully.

"My name is Draco. I'm eight." Anne laughed and got on her knees to be at his eye level.

"My name is Anne. I'm nineteen." Draco liked her laugh, a musical sound like a thousand tiny bells.

"I like you, Anne," Draco smiled.

"Well, I like you too, Draco. I think that we will get along just fine." She laughed again and stood up.

"Good, I am glad that we all like each other!" Drago chuckled jovially. His hand snaked around Anne's waist. "Let's go up to the house, everyone. Dobby is about to put on some tea."

As they walked through the gates, a shrill alarm sounded. "What--?" Anne asked in surprise.

"Damn! I forgot to turn off the anti-Muggle born alarm!"

"You're a--" Draco gasped. "Mudblood?"

Anne gasped with pain and Drago turned around, livid. "Apologize at once, Draco! That is a cruel thing to say!" Draco turned around, horrified.

"I'm sorry, Anne. I didn't know that that was a bad thing to say," His tear filled eyes searched her face, begging her to forgive him.

"That's okay, Draco," she said, brightening up. "You didn't know. C'mon!" They ran to the garden, hand in hand, Drago following close behind.

Draco and Anne were playing with frogs in the garden when a bright red, panting Lucius Malfoy rushed out. "I was at the Ministry when the Mudblood alarm went off! Did you catch it?" he asked Drago. Drago drew himself up to his full height and put a protective arm around Anne's waist.

"This is my wife, Anne. She happens to be of Muggle parentage, so I disabled the alarm." Lucius Malfoy's face was darkening to purple. "Isn't she great, Father?" Draco chattered happily, oblivious to his father's anger.

"You!" Lucius screamed. "I thought that I had raised you right, and now you are magically bound to filth like that?"

"I love her, Father, no matter what you say," Drago said coolly.

"I warned you--" Lucius said in a dangerously quiet voice.

"Fine, Father, we are leaving."

"No, you have besmirched the family name! You will pay!"

Draco, crouching in the corner, watched in horror as his father pulled out his wand and pointed it at the couple. "Father!" he shrieked. "No!" Two flashes of green light--two thuds on the grass. Draco's childhood had been ended forever. He crumpled to the ground, sobbing. "No one in our family connects with Mudbloods," Lucius said, breathing heavily. "Evanesco." The bodies vanished. Lucius Malfoy walked into the house without another word.

*END FLASH-BACK*

17 year old Draco Malfoy sobbed into his silken bed sheets. No, he would leave Granger alone.