Love Potion #9, or Neville Longbottom Strikes Again

Notes: Since this is a fun fic, I didn't want to go into all the heavy-handed angst of having Voldemort running around on the loose. So for my own sanity, and under the guidance of Poetic License, I basically ignore that cheerful fact. *giggle!* Please enjoy anyway!

Addendum: I have no idea if it's required that the Gryffindors always have Potions with the Slytherins, so I changed it up a bit this time. *giggle*

//indicates thoughts//

---

"I took my troubles down to Madam Rue;
you know, that gypsy with the gold-capped tooth.
She's got a pad down on 34th and Vine,
selling little bottles of Love Potion #9."

The Clovers
"Love Potion #9"

When Severus Snape awoke on Monday morning, he was feeling positively dismal, which was as close to chipper as he ever came. The reason behind his dour mood was simple - his first class of the day was the fifth year Gryffindors and Ravenclaws.

Bad news: he had to endure yet another class with Neville Longbottom.

Good news: yet another oppurtunity to torment Neville Longbottom.

So it was with a glum spring in his step - and a particularly jaunty droop of his oily hair - that he made his way from breakfast in the Great Hall to the familiar confines of the dungeons. To his dismay, all the students were in their seats already. It was with some glee, however, that he noticed Parvati Patil quickly hiding a copy of "Winsome Warlocks and Wizards" in her bookbag.

"That will be ten points from Gryffindor, Miss Patil," he intoned with tremendous satisfaction. "I would encourage you to keep your gossip magazines hidden away in your room from now on, unless you would like it to be fifty next time."

"Yes, Professor," Patil mumbled glumly.

Snape resisted the urge to smirk, and made his way to the podium at the front of the room. "This morning, class, you will be making Energy Elixir. What are the effects of drinking this draught? Anyone other than Miss Granger?" Without turning around, he could tell the insufferable girl had already shot her hand into the air. Snape could hear her whimpering with desperation, undoubtedly waving her hand wildly in the air to get his attention.

"It, um... makes the drinker really peppy, sir?" Alice Muncasky, a rather plain Ravenclaw, ventured tentatively.

Snape turned and gave her a sour expression. "Thank you, Miss Muncasky. It has been quite a long time since I have heard such a dull and uninteresting response to that particular question." Alice shrank down in her seat, much to Snape's delight. "A more thorough answer would have mentioned that drinking Energy Elixir endows the drinker with ten times their usual amount of vim and vigor, if we must keep this in the low vernacular of "peppy" and other such nomenclature." His eyes swept over the class, searching for someone who wasn't paying rapt attention.

"This includes not only physical energy, but also mental agility." Ah-ha. Longbottom was scribbling furiously in his notebook. Perfect. "Which, in the case of Mr. Longbottom, would bring his mental prowess up to the level of a rather tall glass of pumpkin juice. Or at the very least, a puddle of melted wax." He was rewarded when Neville's cheeks burned bright scarlet.

"What if you're already very smart?" Hermione asked quickly, obviously trying to take his attention away from Longbottom. "Does it make you smarter?"

Snape turned acidic eyes in her direction. "Do you mean someone such as yourself, Miss Granger?" She blushed as well, and Snape continued. "We shall find out, as you will be the student who will be testing the Elixir for us at the end of class. Don't worry," he assured her as her eyes widened, "I've only ever heard of one student whose head exploded as a result of this particular potion. Just to be sure, I think we will have you drinking Longbottom's mixture, since there's very little chance he'll actually get it right."

Turning with a flourish of his black robes, he opened the spell book which rested on top of his podium. "Open your books to page 324, where you will find the recipe. You will need powdered Wormwood - only a dash, Mr. Longbottom, if you please, not a handful like you usually use - Breath of Hinkypunk, Sugar Root, L...Lemon... Lemon G-g-gra-ACHOO!"

The sneeze took everyone by surprise, but no one more so than Snape himself. This was the first time he could remember sneezing since HIS days as a student at Hogwarts, when Lupin, Black, Potter and Pettigrew had laced his pillow with black pepper during their fourth year. //What the bloody hell...// he started to think, but was cut off by yet ANOTHER violent sneeze. "ACHOOOOOO!"

"Um... Professor? Sir? Are you all right?" Hermione asked tentatively.

Snape rounded on her furiously, and she pulled back in her chair. "Yes, of cou...cour...course I am-CHOOO! Y...You s...si...si-CHOOO! Silly girl!"

It was utterly downhill from there. For a good five minutes, Snape could do little more than sneeze, and bark the occasional order to "GET ON WITH ACHOO! YOUR WORK! ACHOOOOOOO!" The students, obviously desperate not to be the focal points of his wrath, hurriedly started working on their potions, only sneaking glances at him when they thought he couldn't see.

Ignoring his students almost completely, Snape began tearing apart his podium. //Someone must have// "ACHOOOOO!" //set a trap! Pulled a// "ACHOOOOEY!" //prank on me! I'll tea-// "A.. a...ACHOOOOOOOOOOO!!" //-ch them!//

Finally, his eye was caught by what looked like the corner of an envelope, poking up from underneath his spell book. With a suspicious glare, he pulled it free, and immediately collapsed in another sneezing fit. When he'd managed to regain some composure, he was able to make out - through watery eyes - what was written on the small envelope: "Zonko's Sneeze Powder Pepper Pack!"

His eyes narrowed to slits. Muttering a few choice curse words that had several of the girls in the front row of the Ravenclaw section blushing pink around the ears, he tapped the envelope with his wand and said, "Drenchado!" The paper was immediately soaked through, causing the fine pepper dust inside to clump up, so it could no longer fly around free. He had a much harder time saying it than he'd intended - his nose was completely stuffed from all the sneezing he'd just endured.

//Who did this?// Snape wondered angrily. //Who would DARE do this? WHO?//

Rounding on the Gryffindor section, he stretched out an arm and pointed a long, pale finger at Ron Weasley. "YOU!" he roared.

The red-headed boy nearly jumped out of his skin, he was so scared. "ME WHAT, SIR!" he yelped in a high-pitched voice.

"YOU TELL YOUR BROTHERS," Snape continued to bellow, "that not only have they lost Gryffindor fifty points EACH, but they will also be serving detention with me for the next TWO WEEKS!"

Ron gaped at him.

"S...sir?" Harry Potter - who was sitting beside Ron - asked tentatively. "What if Fred and George didn't-"

But Snape cut him off. "Ten more points from Gryffindor!" he shouted.

"But Harry didn't do anything!" Hermione shouted indignantly. "He just asked a question!"

"AND TEN MORE!" Snape roared.

Then they heard it.

A small, frightened squeak.

A telltale GLUP!

And then a murmured, "Oh no... Not again....!"

Snape turned murderous eyes on Neville Longbottom, who appeared to be trying to transfigure himself into part of the table. "What," the professor hissed viciously, "have you done NOW?"

Neville stared at him with terrified eyes the size of saucers. "I... I didn't mean to, Professor! Honest! I just... you were shouting so loud! I got scared! IT WAS AN ACCIDENT!"

Hermione bit her lip. "Oh, Neville.... What happened?"

Neville whimpered, and held up a shaky hand. Clutched in his sweaty, chubby fingers was a long vial labeled "Powdered Wormwood."

And it was entirely empty.

Snape put his face in his hands.

"Tell me, you foolish boy," he said wearily, "that you did NOT just pour an entire vial of powdered Wormwood into that potion."

Neville whimpered again.

"Tell me, then, that you hadn't already added all the rest of the ingredients, and that you hadn't left the Wormwood till last so you would be sure to be very careful and add only a pinch, like I warned you to do at the start of the class?"

This time, the whimper was more like a terrified choke.

"Neville, your pot's smoking!" Ron gasped.

"It smells like turpentine!" Hermione gagged.

"And looks like indian ink," Theodore Obgobble - a Ravenclaw - observed.

Snape dragged his face out of his hands. "Congratulations, Longbottom," he said dryly. "You've managed to concoct through sheer idiocy one of the few illicit potions outlawed by the Ministry of Magic."

"What is it!" someone shouted from the back of the Ravenclaw section.

Snape continued staring at Longbottom. "Love potion #9," he muttered irritably.

"What, like the song?" Hermione asked, confused.

"Yes, like the song, stupid girl," Snape snapped. "I'll never understand why the Ministry of Magic didn't throw that idiot Madame Rue in Azkaban for such a blatant misuse of magic. And popularized in muggle music no less!"

"Love potion #9?" Patil asked. "Does it make you fall in love?"

"Not precisely," Snape said wearily. "Rather, it- "

But he was cut off when Longbottom climbed onto his stool and stood towering over the rest of the class. With a huge grin, he shouted, "You have a nose like a pelican!" Then, with a whoop like a pirate, he bounded off the stool, made a running leap for the dungeon door, and took off down the corridor.

For a moment, the class was utterly silent.

Finally, Snape sighed. "To answer your question, Miss Patil," he said. "It lowers inhibitions. But I'm sure you've already guessed that, as you appear to have your tongue shoved down Lavender Brown's throat. Bloody fantastic. Perhaps I can get Longbottom expelled for this one."

***************

Snape felt his dismal mood quickly plummeting towards dark depression as he watched his students deteriorate from suitably terrified of him to overwhelmingly cocky.

"Oi, Snapey!" Theodore Obgobble shouted. "Wash your hair, you nosey git!" This inspired an enormous laugh from the rest of the class.

"Yes, thank you, Mr. Obgobble," Snape responded, annoyed. "To which I rejoinder, go get stuffed, you pubescent cockroach."

The class roared with laughter again, and Snape rolled his eyes, feeling more and more depressed by the moment.

Patil and Brown had separated and were now propositioning just about every boy in the room to join them in a threesome. Harry Potter was making a beeline for Cho Chang, who was batting her almond shaped eyes at him. Weasley and Granger had disappeared somewhere, but judging by the moans and bumps coming from beneath the former's work table, they were probably on the floor doing God knew what.

Snape sighed heavily. For a moment, he debated letting everything go to merry hell in a hand basket, and using it as fodder for Longbottom's inevitable expulsion trial. It was with great difficulty that he moved away from that tack; more than likely Dumbledore would admonish HIM for not doing something sooner! The cheek!

Straightening up, he cleared his throat and bellowed, "EVERYBODY BACK IN YOUR SEATS! NOW!"

The intoxicating mist of the Love Potion #9 had not entrenched itself deep enough in their brains, apparently, because every student snapped to attention and turned huge eyes in his direction. But none of them made their way back to their seats.

"Weasley! Granger! Get out from under there!" Snape snapped irritably at the wobbling table.

"Go get shagged!" Weasley's unmistakable voice called back, and the class laughed again.

"No one will be getting shagged today, Mr. Weasley," Snape said through gritted teeth, winding his way through the tables towards the one in question. "And that includes YOU."

Reaching underneath the table, he grabbed hold of two ears and gave a good yank. He was rewarded by two identical shrieks - one male, one female - as he dragged Ron and Hermione out from underneath the table. Just in time, apparently, since Hermione's lips were quite swollen, and Ron's robes were hanging around his elbows.

"Hey, get off, you stupid bugger!" Ron complained, trying to get free of Snape's vicelike hold. "I was in there!" He grinned lasciviously as Hermione blew him a surreptitious kiss.

"None of that, none of that!" Snape shouted, shaking them again. Both teenagers winced, then glared at him. He ignored them and addressed the class at large. "Everyone is to come with me! Now!"

Patil snickered. "Snape said 'come,'" she tittered, and the rest of the class snorted.

Snape shook his head, sighing heavily. "Give me battling ogres, or fountains of blood. Give me grindylows or rampaging hippogriffs. ANYTHING but teenagers!" Glaring at the students, he growled, "Follow me. NOW." Staring over his shoulder to make sure they complied, he marched out of the classroom, dragging the amorous Granger and Weasley along with him.

"Where are we going?" Hermione asked, while trying to reach out and unbutton Ron's shirt.

"To see Dumbledore, you foolish girl," Snape bit back, giving her a good shake. "Put your robe back on, Weasley. There will be no stripping while I am around!"

"Tell that to Cho," Ron said, snickering.

Snape glanced over his shoulder. "CHANG! Put your robe back on this instant! Patil, fetch back her shirt. No! Stupid girl, keep YOUR shirt on, too! Bloody hell, LONGBOTTOM, YOU WILL PAY FOR THIS!"

After an extended scuffle that lasted about ten minutes, Snape managed to get his class in order. It required putting a full body bind charm on everyone and tying them together with a length of rope he summoned from the classroom, then levitating them down the corridor and up the stairs. It was a strain on his energy, but at least there was no groping going on.

***************

Quite a few minutes later, Snape found himself in Headmaster Albus Dumbledore's office, his gaggle of petrified students still hovering several inches above the ground behind him as he explained the circumstances to the elderly wizard behind the desk in front of him.

"As I'm sure you're aware, Albus," he was saying, in as patient a tone as he could muster, since the old man seemed to be trying to hide his laughter, "it is not the potion itself which is the problem with Love Potion #9, but rather the mist it creates. Any fool can avoid drinking a potion, but it would take someone with incredibly big lungs to avoid inhaling the fog it creates. I, luckily, was able to avoid intoxication," //But the Weasley twins are still going to pay for that sneezing powder incident, mark my words!// "but the mist itself is quite insidious. We have no way of knowing how deeply it has penetrated into the school, nor how many students and staff it may have affected."

"Of course we do, Severus," Dumbledore said jovially.

Snape gave him a sour look. "And how is that, Headmaster?"

"We simply search the school from the dungeons out, and see how far we have to go before we stop finding couples having illicit trysts in the broom cupboards."

Snape stared at Dumbledore with poorly disguised annoyance. "As I'm sure you know, sir, there is no cure for Love Potion #9 - no counterspell or antidote. We will simply have to wait for it to wear off." He paused, then launched into his next point. "You realize, Albus, the possible repercussions this may have on the school. The possible litigation we may receive from angry parents? I think the time has finally come to discuss Neville Longbottom's suitability as a student here at Hog-"

But he was cut off by Dumbledore laughing cheerfully. "Oh, shush, Sevvie," the old man said with a jolly grin; he looked all together too much like Santa Claus for Snape's taste. "It wasn't Neville's fault! Like you said, you scared the boy. You're quite a scary person, so it's understandable."

Snape blinked. "Sir?"

"Mmm? Yes, Sevviekins?"

Sighing, Snape shook his head. "I believe you have been affected by the mist as well."

Dumbledore laughed heartily. "Nonsense, Sevvieboo! Why, I haven't had the urge to frolick with anyone at this school since that lovely Madame Harmonia was here for a semester ten years ago, trying to start a music program. Ahhhh, she had a good set of hips, that one. Good for childbearing."

Before the giddy headmaster could go into greater detail on his likes and dislikes in a woman's body, Snape cut him off. "If you don't mind, sir, I will just take my... flock here and begin searching the school."

"Certainly, Sevvie-wevvie, certainly. Have fun! Let your hair down. Perhaps get a tan. I think you would look positively smashing with a tan."

"Yes sir." Snape hurried as quickly as he could to the door, lugging his petrified group of students behind him.

"Oh! And if you see that delicious Minerva fluttering about out there, do send her up, won't you?"

Rolling his eyes, the frazzled potion master nodded. "Yes, sir. Goodbye, sir."

He hurried out of the office at top speed, shutting the door quickly behind him.

//Fantastic,// he thought sourly as he wandered down the corridor, his clump of intoxicated students hovering a few feet behind him. //Absolutely bloody wonderful. Not only am I saddled with a gaggle of inebriated fifth years, but our dear Headmaster is high on the aromatic equivalent of three tankards of good brandy.// "And the day started out so perfectly," he muttered.

******************

Things were worse than Snape had imagined, which was saying something, since the potions master prided himself on always being able to imagine the worst possible outcomes for almost any situation. He obviously had discounted an incredibly important piece of the puzzle.

The Longbottom factor.

"Miserable little whelp," he growled as he roamed the halls. "I should have known HE would brew the strongest batch of Love Potion #9 since 1969. Where IS everyone?"

All the classrooms were empty, but he could hear what sounded like a herd of banshees screaming in the Great Hall, so he made his way there.

As he opened the doors, he was hit by a wave of noise so loud, it almost knocked him over. The huge dose of powdered Wormwood had apparently created an incredibly powerful mist, which had managed to sneak into every nook and cranny of the school. At least, that was all Snape could presume, since EVERYONE seemed to be packed into the Great Hall, having what muggles tended to call a "rave." Tiny Professor Flitwick was sitting on the professors' table at the front of the room, trying to levitate the skirts of Professors Sprout and Vector, who were dancing in very unladylike fashion on the Gryffindor table. They were surrounded by a seething mass of intoxicated students, who were dancing and throwing their bodies at each other like a pool of piranhas in heat.

"How attractive," Snape muttered blandly as he watched Pansy Parkinson doing what appeared to be an animated striptease for several Slytherin boys. "Yes, well, I'll have to imagine slaughtering a few pigs to get that image out of my head. Drenchado!" He pointed his wand at the group, and they were immediately soaked to the skin with icy cold water.

Snape's satisfaction was short-lived, however. A moment later, Draco Malfoy shouted, "Hey, everyone! Wet t-shirt contest, the Slytherin table!"

Snape watched with dismay as, amidst enthusiastic shouts of "Drenchado!" the entire Great Hall - and all it's occupants, including himself - were soon dripping wet.

"Bloody. Hell," he muttered, staring straight ahead through soaking wet straggles of his long black hair.

"Ooh! Snapey-poo!"

Severus leveled a furious glare at the offending voice. "Sibyll," he said through gritted teeth. "How bloody wonderful of you to join us. The tea cozies suit you."

Professor Sibyll Trelawney, Divination, was perched on the end of the Ravenclaw table, wearing three strategically positioned tea cozies, a string of beads, and nothing else. "Thank you, Sevvie-pumpkin," she cooed, beaming. "I borrowed them from some obliging house elves who wanted to get naked!"

Snape winced. "That was more than I ever dreamed of wanting to know, Sibyll, thank you."

Trelawney grinned drunkenly. "I have foreseen something for you, Snapey-lulu!" she trilled. "Do you want to know what it is?"

"No," he answered flatly.

She ignored him. "I had a vision of YOU with new robes!" She giggled and pointed her wand at him. "Poof!"

Snape glanced down at himself, and found his already dark mood darkening even more.

"Sibyll," he growled, glaring at her. "I. Do not. Do. Pink."

Professor Trelawney was giggling uncontrollably. "Ooh! Ooh!" she hooted with laughter as she pointed at his now hot pink robes. "But it's so flattering to your dark hair! Speaking of which..."

Snape's eyes narrowed to slits. "Don't do it, Sibyll."

"Poof!" the giggly Divination professor yipped.

"Hey, everyone!" someone - it sounded suspiciously like Lee Jordan - shouted. "Snape's got a 'fro!"

The entire room erupted with laughter.

Snape covered his face with one hand.

"Snapey-schnookums, you're so FASHIONABLE!" Sibyll squealed through her laughter.

The potions master forced himself to count to ten before he could grab his wand and turn her into a stuffed beagle, which he desperately wanted to do. "Listen to me, you flabby excuse for a professor," he growled at her, giving her a poisonous glare, which only made her laugh harder. "I am going to leave these Gryffindors and Ravenclaws here. Let them frolic, let them frisk, but DO NOT let them fornicate. Do you understand me, you worthless woman? Unless you'd like the Drug Enforcement division of the Ministry of Magic to swoop down on you on their brooms and smash all your precious crystal balls."

"Would that sexy Cornelius Fudge be doing any of the swooping?" she purred.

Snape shuddered. "Sibyll, are you listening at all?"

"Oh, yes, Snapey-pookle," Trelawney cooed. "You're worried about my crystal balls. How cute!" She batted her lashes at him. "Do YOU have crystal balls, Snapey-dear? I promise, I'll be gentle with them."

Snape sighed heavily and let the students who'd been hovering behind him clunk to the floor. "Just watch them, Sibyll. And you might want to adjust your top right tea cozy. It's slipping."

Turning his back on her, he made a bee line for the main doors, pausing only long enough to mutter the countercurse and free his students from the body bind. He'd gladly have left them like that, but they'd never wear out the effects of the mist if they weren't allowed to move.

"WHO WANTS A THREESOME!" he heard Brown and Parvati crow the instant they were free, to an enthusiastic chorus of catcalls and whoops.

"Teenagers," he grumbled as he swept out the door, forcing himself to ignore the telltale bounce of his new hairdo.

********

"The next time I see Longbottom," Snape snarled as he wandered down the hall, "I will personally tear out his insides and stuff him full of cotton. OBVIATE!"

He pointed his wand at a long tapestry that graced one wall. It flew up, revealing two half-naked seventh year Hufflepuffs. The girl half of the pair - he recognized her as Constance Coolabuggy - squealed, then cooed, "Hey, Professor. Want to join us?" The young man - Edward Tallyhoo - grinned lasciviously over his shoulder.

Snape glared at them. "Go to the Great Hall."

"Awww, but we're having such fun here, Professor," Tallyhoo said with a grin.

Severus had been doing this long enough - an hour and a half, by his count - to know what to say in this situation. "They have pizza and...beer." Some muggle combination the students were fond of.

"WOO-HOO!" He watched with grim disgust as the two Hufflepuffs pulled away from the wall and bolted in the direction of the Great Hall.

Turning back to the place they'd just vacated, he saw that the girl's bra had somehow fallen off, and was lying in a small satin puddle on the floor. With a sigh, he twitched his wand at it. "Oh, go on. She'll be wanting you when this damnable spell wears off."

The bra hopped up on its straps, yipped like a puppy, ran three times around his legs, then scampered down the hall after its mistress.

Snape rubbed his temples. The work of rounding up drugged students - along with the incredible weight of his new hairdo, which Sibyll had SOMEHOW made irreversible - had given him a pounding headache. He figured, if they were all in one place, perhaps they'd be so packed in that they couldn't maneuver themselves out of their clothes. Not much of a plan, but he could barely think when his hair was the size and shape of a topiary.

It was amazing, really, the places students found to indulge their carnal passions. Tapestries and curtains were the hiding places of choice, but he'd found more than one couple - or threesome, or foursome, or more - underneath tables, ON TOP of tables, hiding in bushes... He'd even found one particularly acrobatic orgy of sixth year Ravenclaws in the rafters of Professor McGonagall's transfiguration classroom.

Oddly enough, he hadn't found a single person in any of the dormitories. Not a sausage. //Apparently no one believes in using a BED anymore,// he thought sourly as he continued his prowl down the corridor. //Bloody EmptyV, or whatever those muggles call that blasted channel.//

A giggle from behind a display of suits of armor made him snap his head to the left. "OBVIATE!" he shouted, pointing his wand at the display. The suits of armor divided down the middle and slid apart, revealing none other than Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, wrapped around each other like a thorny batch of Devil's Snare.

Weasley grinned at him. "'Lo, Professor."

Hermione giggled and wiggled her fingers at him. "You look adorable with that hair, Professor," she cooed. "May I run my fingers through it?"

Ron frowned and held her tighter. "No! You said you'd only run your fingers through MY hair!" He pouted.

"Awwww, Ronniekins," Hermione soothed, patting his cheek. "Your widdle Hermione pookie doll was only kidding!"

"Really?" Ron asked, giving her big, innocent eyes.

She beamed. "Absolutely." She purred seductively.

Weasley growled in response and proceeded to bury his face in her neck, which made Hermione moan happily.

Snape decided he'd better handle this one quickly, before he vomited all over the school's antique floors. "Yes, yes, very touching," he snapped irritably. "You might be interested to know, Miss Granger, that you are the fifteenth girl who offered to run your fingers through my hair since this whole mess began. Along with that, I have been propositioned twelve times by young women, fourteen times by young men, people have asked me thirty times to do a striptease, I have had ten people ask me to conjure them up some whipped cream, three people have asked for access to the whips and shackles in the display case in the dungeon - someone will explain when you're older - and at least one young woman offered to sit on my face. She said my nose gave her "happy shivers." I have decided, at the soonest possible instance, to pour that particular memory into a Pensieve and toss it out a window." He crossed his arms menacingly. "Therefore it's safe to say that nothing you say or do can phase me. So just stand up and march yourselves back to the Great Hall."

Hermione batted her eyes winsomely at him. "I think you're positively yummy when you're forceful. May I lick you from toes to chin?"

Snape miserably buried his face in one hand. He seemed to be doing that a lot today.

"Hermy!" he heard Ron whine. "You said you'd only lick ME from toes to chin!"

"No I didn't! I said I'd lick you from toes to nose, silly pumpkin!"

"Oh, that's all right then." He sounded much happier.

"NO ONE will be doing any licking of any sort!" Snape barked, looking up again. He was pleased to see Ron and Hermione jump a little with surprise, but sadly, no fear. If anything, it only seemed to turn Granger on, which seemed to turn WEASLEY on all the more. "Go to the Great Hall!"

"You're no fun, Professor," Ron pouted, but he stood anyway, hoisting Hermione up with him, her legs tight around his waist.

"See you laaaataaaaa, Professor!" Hermione trilled, waving over Ron's shoulder as the red-headed young man carried her in the direction of the Great Hall.

"Yes, yes, whatever." Snape sighed heavily. //They went easily enough.// The effects of the spell must have been wearing off.

"BALLYHOOOOOO!"

Snape looked up sharply at the familiar voice, and was just in time to see a very naked Minerva McGonagall streak across the corridor ahead of him before disappearing down a perpendicular hall. Before he had time to absorb, digest, and vomit up that image, however, she was followed by an equally naked Filch.

"HOOEYBAAAAAL!" the caretaker hollered, then disappeared as well.

Snape stood stock still, staring straight ahead.

"I'm going to be sick," he finally muttered.

"Hey there, Professor!" said an incredibly cheerful voice in his ear, and he whirled around. George and Fred Weasley stood there, grinning at him.

"What are YOU two doing here?" he snarled.

"We're having a bloody good time, that's what we're doing!" George - at least, he THOUGHT it was George - piped up, beaming. "Have you noticed how crazy everyone's being? We just caught Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown doing the most AMAZING thing with their tongues-"

"Yes, shut up!" Snape snapped angrily. "Why aren't you two gadding about like a couple of lecherous hounds, hmm? I'd think you'd be the worst of the lot, if your inhibitions were lowered."

"Is THAT what it is?" Fred chimed in. "Well, there's your answer then, Professor!"

"We never had any inhibitions to start with!" George explained with a grin.

"So they couldn't possibly get any lower!" Fred added.

Snape stared at them. For a moment he toyed with the idea of turning them both into radishes. It was such a wonderful fantasy, he let himself maintain it for a good five seconds.

He might have even carried it out, if his train of thought hadn't been interrupted by the arrival of a very scantily clad Angelina Johnson.

"Hello, boys," she purred, running her finger along the waistline of her satin-and-lace panties. "I've been looking for you.

The twins both swivelled around at the same time. "Bloody hell!" they yelped in unison.

Angelina smiled seductively and sauntered towards them. "Now which one of you is George?"

"I am!" George piped up.

"No, me!" Fred exclaimed, shouldering in front of his brother.

"Me!" George shouted, pushing forward.

"ME, dammit!"

"ME!"

"I SAID IT'S ME AND IT'S ME, GODDAMMIT!"

"Boys, boys, boys," Angelina said with amusement as she stopped in front of them. Looking from one to the other, she grinned. "Why don't you let ME decide which one of you is George."

"How?" Fred asked nervously.

Angelina grinned even wider. "I have my ways." She grabbed both young men by the collar, and started dragging them away.

"Oi, Angeliiiiiiiiiiina," the twins moaned dreamily, following her.

Snape let them go. Angelina would keep the two out of trouble better than he could by sending them to a room full of inebriated, uninhibited students. "Better than they deserve, lucky bastards," he grumbled, then turned away.

And stopped.

"Bloody. Hell," he muttered as he stared out the window. "Stupid, idiot, moronic boy! He's going to get himself killed!"

Out the window, high above the Quidditch field, someone was standing on a broom, dancing about and doing somersaults like a trapeze artist in a carnival.

It was Neville Longbottom.

****************

Snape had never been very athletic. He'd always preferred, as a child, to stay in his room and read a book rather than cavort about outside like ... well, like a child. It was demeaning.

Perhaps if he HAD been fond of outdoor recreation as a younger man, he might have done quite well. For he found that he could sprint MUCH faster than he'd ever dreamed possible as he ran headlong from the school to the Quidditch field. "LONGBOTTOM!" he hollered as he ran. "GET DOWN FROM THERE NOW! THIS INSTANT! DO YOU HEAR ME!"

If Neville DID hear him, he made no sign of it. Instead, he kept leaping about on his broom, having what he must have thought a grand old time. Snape couldn't have disagreed more. Every step the boy took brought the professor one step closer to an imminent heart attack. He could feel his heart seizing in his chest already.

Or perhaps that was from all the running.

Finally reaching the Quidditch field, Snape had to take a moment - all right, SEVERAL moments - to catch his breath. "G...Get down here!" he wheezed up at the boy. "N...Now!"

"Look, everyone!" a girl's voice carried across the field. "Neville's an acrobat!"

Snape looked up. A huge crowd of students - apparently drawn by his bellowed orders to Longbottom - was gathering along the edge of the field. He glanced up at the school and saw still more pouring out into the bright sunlight. They must have all been coming from the Great Hall - half of them were in their underwear.

Everyone was cheering as Neville continued his acrobatics. "Go, Neville! Bravo!" Ginny Weasley shouted from the very front of the crowd, clapping her hands and jumping up and down.

Snape, breath finally recovered, held up a hand. "Stop!" he barked. "Stop cheering him, stupid children! Can't you see he's going to get himself killed!"

Running into the middle of the field - he was doing too much running today; he'd be sure to get reimbursement from Dumbledore for the stress - he stood beneath Neville and stared up at the somersaulting boy. "LONGBOTTOM! BRING THAT BROOM DOWN HERE NOW!"

"No, you stupid git!" Neville yelled down. "I'm having a marvelous time where I am! So shut up and go away! Whoopee!" He did a cartwheel along the shaft of the broom, much to the delight of the cheering crowd.

"LONGBOTTOM! NEVILLE! Stupid boy, you're going to fall off and get yourself KILLED!" Snape took a step forward, and tripped on something. Frowning, he bent down and picked the something up.

It was Neville's potion cauldron. And it was empty.

Snape's eyes widened, and he stared up at the boy again. "Dear God... NEVILLE! You didn't drink your potion, did you!"

"Yes I did! And it was delicious, and gave me loads and loads of energy! So HAH! Stuff that in your ear, Snapey!"

Snape groaned. Love Potion #9 was bad enough as a mist, but when taken in it's liquid form, it was even worse. Not only did it lower inhibitions, it took them away completely. While the mist would only take people so far, it would never convince them to do anything they wouldn't do normally. If someone didn't want to have sex, they wouldn't. If someone didn't want to dance on tables, they wouldn't.

But if someone DRANK the potion... Well, they might just find themselves doing cartwheels and back flips on a broom in the middle of a Quidditch field, so high in the air that a misstep was bound to cause a broken neck.

"Longbottom, you idiot boy..." he muttered, then looked up again. "Neville, you're not yourself! You don't know what you're doing! Come down here!"

"I know EXACTLY what I'm doing, Snapey! I'm having fun, and people are laughing and cheering me on! And I LOVE IT! So go aw- AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

There was a scream from the audience as Neville, distracted by his shouted conversation with Snape, missed the broom after a particularly tricky double back somersault and started to plummet to earth.

"SOMEONE SAVE HIM!" Ginny Weasley screamed.

"SEVERUS!" he heard Professor Sprout shriek.

"What do you think I'm DOING, stupid woman," Snape muttered. Raising his wand, he aimed at the falling boy. "WINGARDIUM LEVIOSA!"

Neville stopped in midair. He hovered for a moment, then, very gently, floated the rest of the way to earth.

There was a moment of silence.

Then, like a tidal wave, the crowd poured onto the field, screaming and cheering and carrying on.

"YOU DID IT! YOU DID IT!" Ginny Weasley screamed, running at Snape full bore and clasping him in a tight hug. "YOU SAVED HIM!"

"Damned good show, Professor!" Lee Jordan shouted, beaming.

"You saved my life!" Neville gasped, staring at him wide-eyed. Suddenly, his eyes welled with tears, and he hugged Snape tightly as well. "THANK YOU!"

Snape started to panic. Children were hugging him. People were cheering. They were chanting his name. Neville LIKED him.

He was a hero. And he hated it.

"Professor Snape!" all the girls in the crowd suddenly chorused in eerie unison.

"What?" he asked, terrified to know the answer.

Every girl (who was wearing one) pulled their shirts up to reveal their stomachs. "Will you sign our bellies!"

"Ours, too!" all the boys chorused, pulling up their own shirts.

Snape stared around him in horror. This was a nightmare. No, worse than a nightmare. Nightmares involved one or two people - usually Potter and his group of idiot friends. This was...

"That's it," he said wearily. "Someone call for Madame Pomfrey. I'm off."

And he blissfully fainted dead away.

************

THE NEXT DAY

"Now, now, Severus. No harm was done, was there?"

Snape stared in blatant disbelief at Dumbledore. "No...No HARM? Albus, he DRUGGED THE ENTIRE SCHOOL! Including yourself, in case you forget!"

"Ah, but Severus. I do forget! You cast the memory charm yourself, remember?"

"Yes I bloody well do remember! I had to cast that damned charm on the entire school! And it lost plenty of its potency in the doing, too. Some of them still remember a little, even if it IS fuzzy. How else do you explain all the new couples and handholding and dreamy looks?"

"Young love, Severus, is a mystery," Dumbledore said with a wise smile. "A beautiful, indescribable mystery. I don't see why it has to be punished."

"Sir," Snape said through gritted teeth, "if you will not allow me to EXPEL Longbottom for this... ABOMINABLE mistake, then at the very least let me take away all of Gryffindor's house points. It's the least such a foul up should entail!"

"Severus," the Headmaster said kindly, but firmly, "I don't think that would be wise."

"Why not!"

"Because what would we be punishing them for? A mistake made by one of their members. A mistake which YOU helped cause, let me remind you. Severus," Dumbledore continued, ignoring Snape's poisonous glare, "people make mistakes. Some of us more than others, but that doesn't mean punishing the mistake-maker will make him make less mistakes. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," Snape growled.

"And really, what was the harm?" Dumbledore said cheerfully, standing up and circling around his desk to guide Snape towards his office door. "All the boy did was make the entire school very happy for a while."

"He didn't make ME happy," Snape grumbled.

"Yes, well, you're happiest when you're miserable, Severus, so you could say he even helped you reach new heights of glee. Now, if people start making Love Potion #9 on a regular basis, we will certainly meet such behavior with strict action. It is, after all, illegal. But I think we can let this one slip, don't you?"

Snape decided not to respond. If he did, he couldn't trust what his mouth would say.

"There's a good man," Dumbledore said cheerily. "I'm sorry I have to cut our meeting short, but I was just in the middle of writing a letter to that delightful Madame Harmonia who was here all those years ago. I don't know why I felt the urge to get in touch with her again, but I think the school could do with a music program. Nothing like a good Wizard and Witch Chorus to make the heart swell, ay, Severus?"

//Expelling idiot students would make MY heart swell, sir.// "Certainly, Albus."

"Very good." The Headmaster steered Snape out of his office, then paused and smiled. "Would you send Madame Pomfrey up here, Severus, if you see her? I'd just like to clear a few things up with her."

"Things, sir? What sort of things?"

"Mainly that I want her to come to me immediately if any of the girl students start asking her to give them Preg-mancy tests. Have a good day, Severus. Goodbye!" The door closed in his face.

Snape stood there, staring at the door. Counting VERY slowly backwards from ten, he turned and started to walk away.

It was Tuesday. His second class of the day would be potions, with yet another batch of snivelly Gryffindors.

Bad news: he'd have to endure another class with the Weasley twins.

Good news: he still hadn't paid the Weasley twins back for the pepper prank they'd pulled on him the day before.

"Oh yes," he said to himself, a wicked grin slowly suffusing his face. "Today will be a VERY good day. Very good indeed."

Resisting the urge to rub his hands together with fiendish glee, he marched in the direction of the dungeons, visions of radishes with mops of red hair dancing in his head.

THE END