The Death Eaters Are Coming!

Severus Snape swept into the sixth year potions class in his usually brisk, icy manner. As the door slammed the class's already subdued chatter evaporated. No one liked to talk much in the dungeons.

Slumping farther down in his hard seat, Harry looked away from the Potions teacher and tried to think invisible thoughts. The animosity between him and his greasy-haired professor had gone beyond reaching a new level. It had taken the metaphorical lift to the top of the hatred building, gone out onto the roof and started climbing a ladder.

Harry gave a small snort of laughter. He wasn't supposed to have thoughts like that until after the room filled with potion fumes.

"Today you will attempt to brew the Laconias Potion," Snape began, stalking irritably back and forth across the front of the classroom. He seemed somehow more Snape-y than usual--his hair extra-limp, his voice exceedingly harsh, his eyes colder than skinny-dipping with the giant squid in December. No question about it--Snape was really hacked off. "As it was in the chapters assigned for this week's reading, I hope I am not making too great an assumption to expect you to be able to brew this simple draught. Pair off--I don't care who you work with. Ingredients there." He gestured sharply with his wand at a long table and the air above it shimmered, revealing piles and jars of foul looking bits of plants and creatures. "Mr. Malfoy, you are responsible for ensuring the class does their work. Longbottom!" Neville jumped. "Do try not to destroy anything irreplaceable. Begin!" In a whirl of robes, he strode to his office door, threw it open, and stormed inside. The reverberations of the door's slam a moment later made a small jar of ugly yellow flowers tilt over and spill into a bowl of horklump powder.

Harry stared after Snape for a moment, surprised by the man's uncharacteristically demonstrative temper. Usually when he was upset he took it out on the students, mechanically leeching points away from Gryffindor as he stalked calmly about, his robes flapping in the omnipresent, mysterious dungeon breezes. He's rather like a gigantic, unpleasant parrot, mused Harry. He envisioned a large, ugly bird with the potion master's head attached, flying around the dungeons attacking innocent sixth years. Squawk! Five Points from Gryffindor!

"Harry?" Ron's voice cut into his disturbing semi-hallucination.

Harry blinked. "Potion fumes," he replied.

"What?" Ron looked sideways at him. "You feeling all right, mate?"

"Yeah, I'm . . ." Harry stopped, distracted. Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini and Millicent Bulstrode stood at the front of the classroom. The three girls climbed on to Snape's desk and stopped, waiting. Malfoy placed himself in front of them, surveying the class with an imperious smirk until they fell silent. Gray eyes flicked to each corner of the room, ensuring he had all attention. And then he spoke.

"I would like to inform you of an . . . opportunity that has made itself available to you." Malfoy paused, and Blaise giggled. "The plight of the love deprived Hogwarts student is a familiar one to many." He raised a melodramatic hand to his heart. Ron snorted. "However, I have a solution. From now on, any lonely gentleman"--Malfoy's lips curled in a lascivious smile--"or lady seeking companionship needs only to owl me and a companion will be provided for a mere two"--Millicent shrugged out of her robe and threw it on the floor--"four"--Pansy's robe followed--"or eight"--Blaise shimmied free of her robe--"Galleons an hour!" He ran a speculative eye over his crowd and the nodded. "Thank you. Girls, that will be all." Millicent, Pansy and Blaise hopped, wiggled and slithered their way to the floor and donned their robes again. Harry tried not to watch. The girls' modified uniforms left absolutely no doubt as to why Millicent was two Galleons while Pansy was four. And Blaise . . . Harry took a deep breath, trying to concentrate very hard . . . er, intensely, on the thought of Snape.

"Blimey! That . . . that's . . ." Ron's mind seemed to be as preoccupied as Harry's was.

The familiar sound of Hermione tutting reached them from her shared cauldron with Neville.

"Honestly! Should . . . points! Prefect! Rules. . ." It appeared Hermione's potion was receiving a very firm lecture on the immorality of prostitution. Neville looked a bit afraid. "Ron! Harry!"

Both boys started as she called their names.

"Yeah?" Harry turned to look at her. She did not seem pleased.

"You should start your potion. Laconias needs to simmer."

"all right," Ron replied distractedly. "Hey, Herm? Do you think maybe I could borrow a couple Galleons?" Harry jumped back to avoid being splashed as Hermione's spoon was violently thrown into her cauldron. "Just kidding!" Ron hastily amended. "I didn't mean it!"

"C'mon Ron, let's go get our Horklump powder." Harry grabbed the redhead's elbow and dragged him off, laughing. The boys selected two bowls of the grayish, sandlike granules and returned to their place.

"Here," Ron plunked the second bowl in front of Hermione as a peace offering. No one noticed the three tiny yellow flowers half buried in the powder. "Horklump powder, just for you."

Hermione gave and exasperated sigh as she took up the bowl and began scattering the powder into her cauldron. "Pass me a new spoon, will you, Neville?" Neville complied. Hermione gave a satisfied nod as she added the final ingredient to their cauldron. The potion bubbled and steamed energetically.

Harry and Ron were slightly less successful with their potion. It was puce, and whistling. A quick glance around the room showed Harry that none of the other sixth years (save Hermione, of course) had managed to produce anything resembling a correct Laconias Potion. In fact, a large percentage of the class seemed to be gathered around Draco Malfoy, trying to give him money. Blaise was nowhere to be seen, although there were rather suspicious noises issuing from the cupboard. Goyle, Harry now realized, was missing as well. Millicent and Pansy sat sulkily by Draco's side, obviously sulking at the lack of interest they were generating as merchandise.

With a SLAM, Professor Snape reentered the classroom, smelling slightly of some of the more, shall we say, potent herbs in his ingredient storeroom. The students instantly scurried back to their cauldrons; even Blaise and Goyle reappeared.

"Granger!" Snape bellowed. Hermione dropped her spoon. Neville dove under the table. "We all know that your potion's the only one guaranteed not to poison anyone in here. Drink a spoonful of the bloody stuff so I can get on with this madness."

Hermione exchanged a glance with Harry and Ron, and then dutifully drew a spoonful of her potion and sipped it. Her nose wrinkled at the taste. She looked back at Professor Snape for further instruction, to discover he was across the room, drinking a bottle of ambiguously blue liquid that he had withdrawn from a hidden cupboard in the wall.

"Done?" he demanded. Hermione nodded. "Now, we wait." Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Snape perched himself on the edge of Dean Thomas's table and waited. A trickle of the blue liquid trickled from the corner of Snape's lips to his chin. Dean looked quite terrified.

"Is he drunk?" Ron whispered, sounding flabbergasted.

Harry nodded. "Think so."

Hermione hiccupped. Her eyes widened in alarm. She hiccupped again. "Professor!"--hic--"I"--hic--"think"--hic--"mph." Hermione's eyes rolled up in her head and she collapsed onto the floor.

"Hermione!" Harry leapt from his chair and ran around the desk to her, Ron at his heels. "Are you all right? Answer me!"

"Move, idiot boy!" Snape commanded, pushing past Harry and Ron to get to his incapacitated student. "What have you done to yourself, foolish girl?" He knelt down to try to revive her.

Hermione's eyes drifted open when Snape touched her shoulder. Her mouth opened, and then turned into a smile. "Hello, Professor," she said, fluttering her eyelashes.

"Are you all right?" Harry asked, leaning over Neville to see Hermione.

"Oh, yes," Hermione purred, sitting up so that her body was pressed against her flabbergasted Potions professor. "I'm all right now." She giggled.

Snape stared at her in absolute horror. The concept of any female, let alone a student, hitting on him so blatantly was so deeply disconcerting that for the moment he seemed incapable of speaking. His mouth opened and closed soundlessly.

"Hermione?" Ron began weakly. "Er . . ."

Hermione's hand slipped out of sight and Snape suddenly leapt up with a shriek. He glared furiously around the room, rubbing his bum with one hand. Then he froze, eyes fastened on the half-empty bowl of gray powder on Hermione's desk. The room was utterly silent as he pounced, reaching into the Horklump powder and extracting two tiny yellow petals. "Heart's breath," he whispered, crumbling the dried petals between his quivering fingers, "Heart's breath."

Across the room, Draco Malfoy gasped. Hermione giggled and scooted closer to Snape's legs.

"Can anyone tell me," Snape asked, in his quietest, most dangerous voice, "why this is so very bad?"

Draco Malfoy raised a hand, his lips twitching as though he were suppressing one hell of a smirk. "When you combine Heart's Breath with several of the other ingredients in the Laconias Potion, the result is a very, very strong Love Potion. The effects are irreversible, except by extreme shock." The Gryffindors stared in disbelief at their ex-star student, giggling on the floor in a heap of lustful giggles. The Slytherins, wary of the increasingly apparent twitch in Snape's left eyebrow, valiantly contained their hysterical laughter.

Ron whimpered.

"SILENCE!" Snape flicked the side of Ron's head with the spoon from Hermione's potion. "You," he addressed Hermione, who had attached herself to his arm. "Down!"

Hermione grinned disturbingly and dropped to her knees, reaching for the Professor's robes.

"AAHHHHHHHHHH," said Snape, jumping back. "NO! SIT! STAY! DO NOT MOVE!"

Hermione slunk back to her chair, looking disappointed.

"YOU!" he turned to Harry and Ron. "SIT! ALL OF YOU! SIT! SILENCE! DO NOT MOVE!"

The dungeon was utterly devoid of sound, save the Potions master's ragged breathing as he stomped to the front of the room and whirled to face the class. After an impressive swig of the mysterious blue liquid, he staggered, slammed the bottle down, and took a deep breath. "Now." Snape's teeth were dyed blue, giving him the appearance of a deranged Smurf-Vampire. "The Headmaster, in his infinite wisdom and compassion, has asked me to talk to you about," he took a deep breath and, determinedly looking away from Hermione, said "sex."

Malfoy smirked.

Goyle giggled.

Hermione squeeed.

Ron grabbed Harry's cauldron and knocked himself out with it.

And then the chapter ended.