Potions Homework

Potions Homework

2. Hugz-o-Palooza

"I'm not saying he didn't deserve it, I'm just saying you shouldn't have flown off the handle like that!" Hermione shoved a hand through her hair and gave her friend a look. "Honestly, Ron!" she sighed. "You know better than to take him seriously. He's an arrogant git."

Ron stabbed at the asparagus on his plate. "I know," he grumbled. He sighed and stared at his lunch. "Stupid prat Snape had to go and take off twenty points, too. I mean, come on, twenty points!"

Harry cocked his head, a lock of untidy black hair falling in his eye. "Well you did ruin the classroom, spill two illegal potions, knock one of your classmates unconscious...oh," he added, recalling the last of Snape's diatribe against Ron once he'd returned from the hospital wing, "you disrupted class, too."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I heard it all before." He looked guiltily at his friends. "Think we should go see if he's okay?"

"Of course," Hermione said as if there'd never been a question about it. "You're not going to stoop to his level and do something like that and not apologize!" She looked scandalized at the thought. "We're not pretentious gits like him. Unconsciously mimicking Ron's earlier spearing of his asparagus, she stabbed her fork into her garden salad and accidentally squirted a cherry tomato all over Harry. "Sorry!"

Muttering a quick cleaning spell, Harry removed tomato seeds from his robes. Then he polished off the last bite of his turkey and brie sandwich. "We could go now," he suggested around the food in his mouth.

Hermione gave him a disgusted look. "Don't talk with your mouth full, Harry! I swear, you're picking up all of Ron's bad habits." She sniffed.

"Hey!" protested the Weasley in question...around a mouthful of pasta salad. Hermione gave him a pointed look and he lifted his hands in playful surrender. Finishing their meal, the three left the Great Hall, Hermione with another glare at the vanishing plates, and started towards the hospital wing. They stepped into the sterile and very white room, and was met by a bustling Madam Pomfrey. She looked down at them with a weary sigh.

"I suppose you're here to see Ms. Weasley? Fine, go along then, just hurry. My patients are not to be disturbed for long."

Harry, Hermione, and Ron exchanged looks. "Ms. Weasley?" Ron repeated. "Ginny? What's she doing here?" The three trooped to the bed Madam Pomfrey indicated before hurrying off and saw a slim girl with the same red hair and freckles that graced Ron lying propped up with pillows. She raised brown eyes to her visitors, eyes Harry would forever remember wide in fear in the Chamber of Secrets four years ago. She had aged beautifully from eleven to fifteen but despite her schoolgirl crush on Harry (it'd ended when she was fourteen, she promised), after that episode, he'd never managed to see her as anything but a little sister to be protective over.

"Ginny?" Ron said, looking concerned. "What are you doing here? And what are those...are those burn marks?" He indicated the red scars marring her face.

She smiled wanly. "Yeah. I was playing Exploding Snap with some of my friends and," she gestured at herself, "this happened."

"Exploding Snap's never done that before," Hermione said, concerned.

"It was with a new version of cards Fred and George developed for their joke shop," Ginny explained. "They sent us a preliminary pack to test it." She rolled her eyes. "Serves me right for trusting anything they come up."

Ron still looked worried. "You're okay?"

"Yeah. Madam Pomfrey's getting me some healing salve." Ginny dismissed the topic with a wave of her hand. "I'll be fine." She gave the three curious looks. "What are you guys doing here? I didn't think you'd heard of my...er...mishap."

"Uh, we're actually here...to see Malfoy." Harry smirked as Ron flushed in response to his little sister's disbelieving look. He took over and explained why they were extending the slightest sympathy to their enemy, it being the Right Thing To Do since they had consciences and all.

"More than I can say for Malfoy," Hermione said cheerfully. She looked severely at Ginny, whom she'd always seen as a sister as well, much to her delight. As an only child, she didn't have any siblings to fret over or fight with, so she, along with Harry, had adopted Ron's six siblings as her own. "Be sure to owl the twins and tell them not to sell the product. We wouldn't want have of Britain to be singed this badly every time they played a game of cards!"

Ginny nodded and they bid her their goodbyes and went in search of Malfoy.

"You should apologize, Ron," Hermione announced as they approached the next bed. Empty. They moved on.

Ron gaped at her. "Why on earth would I do that? He deserved it! You said so yourself!"

"Yes, well. You did knock him out." Hermione looked slightly reproachful. "It must've hurt."

"Are you feeling sorry for Malfoy?" Harry asked incredulously.

Hermione gave them a frustrated look. "I'm not trying to side with him or anything," she exclaimed. "I still hate him. I just...I just don't think violence is the answer to anything. I mean, even he deserves..." She trailed off and shook her head. "Never mind." They approached another bed.

"Not him," Ron said. He looked hopeful. "Maybe Madam Pomfrey's already treated him and let him go."

Hermione was silent. They walked to another bed.

"All right," Ron said, exasperated. "If it means that much to you, I'll apologize!"

"Malfoy!" she said upon discovering the right bed. But she smiled at Ron to show her pleasure at his acquiescence. Then her eyes traveled back to the paler than usual sixteen-year-old lying in the bed. His eyes were closed, long dark gold lashes shadowing his cheeks, and she assumed he was either still out of consciousness, or had been given a Sleeping Draught by Madam Pomfrey. His silver-blonde hair hung around his face, disordered by his earlier ordeal. It looked baby fine and extremely soft and for a moment, Hermione was tempted to touch it, stroke her fingers through it, to see for herself if it was a silky as it looked. Thankfully, the moment passed.

What are you thinking, Hermione? she asked herself, shocked at her own thoughts. It's probably stiff from all that gel he sticks in it, anyway. Though he did seem less prone to the two pints of hair gel he'd used in earlier years. Now it was just a dab and Hermione had to admit, it did look better. And with his changing hairstyle, he had also grown...

Hermione wasn't anywhere near admitting a secret crush or openly declaring love to the boy, but she was always logical. Well, most of the time. And the logical part of her now told her that Draco Malfoy had changed over the years. Not a lot, but the change was there. It was a fact. Besides the less hair gel was the growth spurt. He now towered over her at close if not over six feet, and his lanky body had been toned by dozens of Quidditch practices. He had grown into his face and his features were less pointed and rat-like. Or ferret-like, she recalled with a smile. She understood, though didn't join, Lavender and Parvati's gushing over his physical appearance, because it was true. Draco Malfoy was gorgeous. And he knew it.

That was another thing that had changed about him. He was still smug and arrogant, and was still prone to teasing, taunting, and torturing first-years and Muggle-borns, but it had become less frequent and less malicious. Hermione could only guess that his flourishing social life had kept him more than occupied. As for the less malice? Perhaps one of his many girlfriends had managed to soften him somehow.

"He's still unconscious." Ron looked grateful. He cleared his throat and made to turn around. "All right, then, let's go."

"Ron." Hermione shot him a look. He reluctantly turned back towards the bed.

"What? He really is. There's nothing I can say to him in this condition!"

Harry rounded the end of the bed to peer down at Draco's face. "His scratches are healed," he noted. "Madam Pomfrey works fast, doesn't she?"

"What's this?" Hermione had followed Harry to the other side of the bed and was now examining a sheet of paper on the table beside Draco's lying form. She tilted her head, trying to decipher the scrawled words. "Malfoy, Draco," she read, "6^th-year Slytherin. Cuts, scratches, and bruises--treated. Amoura Potion--" she gasped, "--untreated." She looked up, eyes wide.

"Bloody hell! The Amoura Potion?" hissed Ron, looking incredulous. "How did he--?"

"It must've been when they were knocked over," Harry deduced, his mind flying. "Some must have flown in his mouth or got in his blood somehow. I mean, with all the cuts he had..."

Hermione's gaze lowered to Draco's pale face. "He's inflicted with the Amoura Potion," she whispered. Her eyes lit up. "Do you know what an opportunity this is?" she said excitedly. "I could observe him! Test him! Record data! This could be a medical breakthrough!"

Ron's jaw dropped.

"Crikey. Hermione?"

The glazed look left her eyes. "Oh. Sorry." She cleared her throat. "Well, you know, since Amoura Potions are illegal, no one's really done any thorough research on its effects. None that are recorded in scientific papers, I mean. But that's beside the point," she hurried to add as Ron and Harry continued to stare at her. "We should go. He's still unconscious. You can apologize to him later, Ron."

As they shifted away, Ron mused, "So who do you think Malfoy's in love with?"

"Ron! Weren't you paying attention at all in class today?" Hermione scoffed. "He's not going to fall in love with anybody until he hears them say 'hugz-o-palooza.' Considering he's totally out of it, I think that's unlikely."

"Ugh, don't say that word!" Ron shuddered, his freckles standing out against his pale skin. "It's so...fluffy."

Hermione laughed. "That's ridiculous, Ron. How can a word be fluffy?"

"What's fluffy?" Three heads swiveled to look at Ginny, whose bed they had reached. Curious expression on her face, she asked again, "What's fluffy?"

"Hugz-o-palooza..." With a grin, Hermione explained about Draco's infection of the love potion and why she was teasing Ron with the word. She also added there was no danger since Malfoy was still unconscious. "And it's a fun word to say! HUGZ-O-PALOOZA!"

"Hermione!" Harry hissed as Madam Pomfrey shot them a dirty look and made a shooing motion with her hands. "What'd you yell that for?"

Looking embarrassed, Hermione shrugged. "I don't know," she whispered.

Ron shook his head. "And you're supposed to be the smart one?"

Hermione gave Ron a dirty look of her own. Then they bid their goodbyes to Ginny and ducked out the room before Madam Pomfrey could chase them out.

~

It was foggy. Or he was stuck in a cloud. Whatever it was, he couldn't see a bloody thing for all the white-gray mist that persisted in front of his eyes. And his head hurt as though one of Gryffindor's beaters had just slammed two consecutive Bludgers at his skull.

Draco groaned--or attempted to. No sound seemed to escape his mouth. What was wrong with his blasted vocal cords? While he'd never been Madonna, he had managed to at least talk before. Even sing a song. Somewhat off-key, certainly, which was why he didn't often volunteer to sing, but he had managed to make noise.

Maybe I've died and gone to Hell, he thought, shifting. But then wouldn't the fog be red or black or some other appropriately evil color? And I wouldn't be so bloody cold either. He shivered slightly. Then again, he was usually cold.

Through the fog that had wrapped its tentacles around him like that giant squid in the lake, Draco heard a tinny noise in his head that he realized were voices. Voices a long, long ways away. Go away. Shoo, now. Leave the poor mute bastard freezing in his private hell alone.

The voices persisted.

Ah, bloody hell.

Well if they insisted on talking, he might as well try to figure out what they were saying. Focusing, he drew his concentration away from his pounding head to the tiny voices slithering through his consciousness.

"Observe...test him! ...Data! This could...medical...through!"

What?

Apparently, the voices in his head were as coherent as he was.

"Crikey...'Mione?"

Tell me you're joking. Draco squeezed his eyes shut then realized they'd been closed anyway. Mione? Hermione? As in Granger? ...the Mudblood? What the hell was she doing here? And what was she prattling on about?

"Oh. Sorry....know...since Amoura...illegal...thorough research... None are recorded...scientific papers...besides the point...let's go. Still unconscious...you...apologize later, Ron."

Ron? Weasley? What was he doing here? No doubt the Boy Who Lived To Make Draco's Life A Living Hell was there as well. The bloody dream team, Draco thought uncharitably (well who could expect him to be charitable? His head hurt, dammit). Potty, Weasel, and Mudblood.

Now he really wanted them to leave.

"...Malfoy's in love...?"

Were they talking about him? Why were they talking about him? And what was this about him in love? That was news to him.

"Ron!" There was Granger's voice. Unmistakable, now that he'd discerned it. Bossy and self-righteous. "...attention at all? ...not fall...love...anyone until he...hugz-o-palooza... He's totally out of...I think...unlikely."

"...don't say that..."

Mumble, mumble... Then,

"Ridiculous! How can...fluffy?"

There was silence for awhile, and Draco hoped fervently that meant the dream team had departed and left him to rest in peace. For a few minutes, it seemed to be true, when seemingly out of nowhere, a yell pierced his already pounding head.

"HUGZ-O-PALOOZA!"

What in Slytherin's name? Draco wondered. Why was Granger shouting some inane word? Wait--why did he care? She could jump around naked on the Quidditch field and he wouldn't-- Attempting another groan and finding, once again, his vocal cords were on strike, Draco rolled over and felt cool sheets under him. Apparently, he wasn't dead. Once determining that, he thereby concluded that he was on a bed...in the hospital wing. And that Granger, though bossy and self-righteous was Very Pretty indeed. Quite Beautiful, in fact. Just the Type Of Girl he fancied.

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