Love Potion HP

Chapter Ten: The Aphrodilus

Hermione returned to Hogwarts on January second, the last day of Christmas vacation. Her constant presence dwindled Harry's patience, but he remembered his manners and only once inquired about checking the restricted section. She cheerfully replied that she was working on it.

Finally, five days after classes had resumed, Hermione met with Harry and Ron in a deserted corner of the library. She took a large, molding volume from her bag and set it on the table with a thud.

Ron bent down and sniffed the book. "Oh, yeah, this is definitely from the restricted section."

"How did you get it?" Harry asked.

"Hagrid signed for me," she answered. "He wants to breed skewts and needs to research love charms. This is the only book the library has that's any good, but I don't think it's going to help us."

He bit his lip. "Why not?"

"Well, first of all, none of the charms are strong enough to work. And any of the potions would have worn off long before now."

"But if someone was continuously contaminating-"

"Harry," she said, "I don't think it's a love potion."

There was a pause.

"Well, why not?" Ron inquired.

"Maybe the first time it could have been, but Snape is the Potions Master. I think he would be able to tell if his food was contaminated or recognize if he was under the influence of a potion," she explained.

"I think you're giving Snape a bit too much credit," said Ron.

Harry shook his head. "But if it's not a potion or a charm then... what?"

"There is one thing," replied Hermione, flipping the book open. "An Aphrodilus."

Ron blinked. "A what?"

"An Aphrodilus," she repeated. "The book doesn't explain much, but it's a device that runs on a potion and will make any two people become attracted to each other. The potion is kind of like Polyjuice- you need some hair from each person for it to work and it only lasts six months. Once it's constructed, the subjects need to make physical contact... and then it's activated."

"Okay," Ron said. "So someone made this Afro-dial-a-thingy and thought it would be funny if- hey- Snape fell in love with a dog... but the dog happened to be Sirius-"

Hermione glared at him with a mingling of pure disgust and annoyance. She said flatly, "Ron, that's really, really gross."

"Well..." Harry squirmed. "Could someone have... Ron, that is really gross."

"It's also impossible," Hermione scoffed. "Almost all the ingredients of the potion are illegal to grow or possess and the Aphrodilus requires an extreme amount of Dark power-"

Harry felt like he had swallowed a Bludger.

"Voldemort."

Hermione and Ron both gave a start.

Harry stared off into space as if in a trance. "Voldemort made an Aphrodilus... he made Sirius and Snape..."

"Hermione? Does the Aphrodilus just produce attraction?" Ron asked. "Or does it have some side effects?"

"It depends on the person," she answered hesitantly. "If an Aphrodilus is used on mortal enemies... they usually end up killing each other."

"Then it makes sense," Harry said. "Snape used to be a spy for Dumbledore, so Voldemort would want to kill him, but can't because he's at Hogwarts. So he picked someone he hated- and the only person he really hates besides me is Sirius-"

"Blimey, Harry. What if You-Know-Who had used the Aphrodilus on you instead of Sirius?" Ron whispered.

Harry's eyes went very wide.

"Oh, grow up!" Hermione snapped. "Honestly, Ron, you're just disgusting today. The Dark Lord didn't make an Aphrodilus!"

"How do you know?" he demanded.

"How could he get close enough to either of them to cut their hair? Besides, think about how they've been acting!"

Ron countered, "Snape's been the same-"

"I know Snape's been the same, but according to Harry, Sirius is happy! Doesn't sound like they're about to kill each other in a fit of passion!" she exclaimed. "If they were, they would have done it already! Plus Dumbledore knows they're in love. Do you really think-"

"They are not!"

Hermione and Ron both jumped. Their eyes darted to Harry, who had stood up and was trembling furiously.

"They are not," he repeated.

"Harry," said Hermione softly, "what if-"

But Harry had a dangerous glimmer in his eyes. "Don't even say it. It's wrong- and you know it. Are you really that stupid? Come on, Hermione- you're supposed to be the smart one!"

He regretted the words the instant they left his mouth. Hermione downcast her head and averted her eyes. Something sparkled under her lashes. "Alright, Harry," she whispered and began to swiftly walk away.

Ron gave him a look somewhere between reproach and sympathy then dashed after her calling, "Hermione! You know he didn't mean it-"

Harry collapsed into his chair. He was miserable and furious with the entire world. Suddenly, he remembered when he had once felt this way before.

It was upon discovering how Sirius Black had betrayed his parents.

* * *

Harry may have been wrong about Sirius then, but he was certain he was correct about Snape and his godfather now. Still, he felt horrible for snapping at Hermione. When evening came, he longed to go directly to bed and put an end to the entire miserable day, but could not; Sirius expected him in the common room at midnight. Harry spent five hours slumped in an armchair trying vainly not to brood over his own black thoughts.

Sirius arrived fifteen minutes late. "Sorry, Harry," he apologized. "I had trouble getting out of the house."

Harry wondered if it had anything to do with the brand-new scratch on Sirius's right cheek. Sudden indignation at Hermione flared again. How could she not think this was the work of an Aphrodilus?

"It's okay," he answered, trying to sound cheerful.

Sirius was not fooled. "What happened?"

Harry sighed. "Nothing. Really nothing. It's just..." His own voice sounded hollow. "I sort of had a bad fight with Hermione and now Ron's mad. Today was just a mess."

"Oh. I'm sorry, Harry."

He shrugged. "Don't be. It was my fault. I'm going to apologize when I see her tomorrow."

Sirius beamed him an approving smiled. "When's your next Quidditch match?"

"Next week," he answered, then sat up. "Are you going to come?" he asked expectantly.

"I hope I can. I'm not sure. Dumbledore mentioned he might have something for me to do."

Harry nodded.

Sirius asked him the usual questions and he replied in as much detail as he could. He was still notably upset but, thankfully, Sirius believed it was only the matter of Ron and Hermione.

"Hey," Sirius asked, "would you like to come over for dinner on the tenth?"

Harry was thrown off-balance.

"Dinner?" he repeated. "At the cabin?"

"Yes."

"Wa... won't Snape mind?" he asked hesitantly.

Sirius winked. "Don't worry. He'll behave so long as I'm there."

Panic suddenly spiked in his mind. Dinner with Snape, even if Sirius was present, was a frightening prospect. Besides, how was he supposed to eat when seeing them together made him queasy? Yet to refuse would be to insult his godfather.

"Okay," Harry accepted. "Sounds... good."

"Dinner will be a seven. Dumbledore knows where you'll be and Severus will take you back to the tower," he told him. Then his voice became soft. "Harry, you don't have to like Severus... I don't even really like him..."

Harry forced a laugh.

Sirius continued, "...I just really care about both of you and... I know that most of the hostility between you two is instigated by him. Believe me," he emphasized with a frank look. "I went to school with him. I know. I just... I'd like to see you two get along a little better and that's not going to happen unless Severus sees how you are outside the classroom... Not that you're any different, but you know. Severus... has problems."

"That's asking for a lot," Harry said.

"Yeah, well, I figured it would take a few years, so best start now."

Harry forced a smile. Inside, he felt very sick.

* * *

Sirius slowly crept inside the bedroom. Severus appeared already asleep beneath the sheets. As he slipped into bed, his eye turned towards his bedmate and caught a glimpse of a rare sight.

Severus, believing Sirius's gaze elsewhere occupied, opened his eyes for a moment and smiled. Sirius's heart stilled in wonderment. Severus never smiled except to himself. Sirius had caught him at it twice before, and wished he would do it more often. It made him feel very warm inside.

He sighed happily and, bestowing a kiss upon the Potion Master's forehead before snuggling beside him, decided to wait until morning to spoil Severus's mood.

* * *

Sirius lived by one adage: never, ever anger Severus Snape until after a meal is served.

"You did WHAT?!" Severus screeched. He stood up so fast his chair not only fell, but slid across the floor and crashed into the stove.

"Severus," Sirius reminded, "he is my godson."

Severus placed one hand against his forehead. The other he tapped angrily against the table. "You really don't think, do you?"

"Believe me, I put a lot of thought into this."

"Then you have some explaining to do," he snapped furiously.

Sirius stood up and stated calmly, "I think you should learn to be civil to Harry."

"I am civil."

"How about nice?"

Severus glared.

"Oh, come on!" he exclaimed. "I make compromises for you."

"Like what?"

"I put up with you, for one thing, and that's not exactly easy. You've got a pretty crappy personality."

"There is nothing wrong with my personality," Severus stated coolly.

"Yeah- except that nobody else likes you!"

"Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I don't like them either?" Severus retorted.

"What is your problem with Harry anyway?" Sirius demanded.

"Do I really have to explain?" he asked. "He's a Potter and it shows. Like father, like son-"

"James was my best friend!"

"Well, I never said I liked you either!" Severus snapped. He was so livid he was quivering. "I will not stand to have him in my house, at my table-"

Severus' voice left him in a sudden gasp. He trembled; his right hand clasped around his left arm like a vise.

"Severus-"

"The Mark-" he whispered with panic.

Sirius nodded and took Severus by the arm, swiftly leading him from the kitchen. "We'd better go to Dumbledore, right now."

* * *

Ginny Weasley, except for an occasional shiver, stood perfectly still as Professor Snape stalked through the classroom. He stopped before her simmering caldron, stuck a ladle inside, and stirred. Nothing happened.

Snape narrowed his eyes. "I was under the impression, Miss Weasley, that you were not a Muggle."

Her face went red as someone behind her snickered. Snape immediately whirled around and with a silencing glare, ordered dangerously, "You are not to make a sound when I am speaking! Five points-"

Ginny heard scuffling across the floor. Snape glanced up and, dismayed, stated flatly, "You will excuse me."

A large black dog holding an envelope in its mouth had entered the room. Snape took the envelope from it and with his hand shooed it away. The dog did not leave, but instead yipped expectantly. Snape glared at it, opened the envelope, quickly read whatever it was inside, then crumpled it into a ball.

"You should have just sent an owl," he told the dog crossly, then turned back to his class.

What was that about? Ginny wondered.

* * *

Harry apologized to Hermione at the first opportunity, and although she quickly forgave him, it did little to ease the tension building his stomach. The next evening, as he crossed the Hogwarts green, all of his apprehensions fluttered across his mind. How would Snape behave? Would he really act differently because of Sirius? And who was cooking? For some reason, Harry had a difficult time picturing Sirius in front of a stove.

How am I ever going to get through tonight? he wondered. He had agreed out of respect for his godfather, but the truth was that he did not want to help Sirius improve his relationship with Snape. He felt that it was very wrong they were in a relationship at all.

The only thing it could be is an Aphrodilus... and that means they'll kill each other...

Harry took a deep breath and knocked on the cabin's door. A few moments later, it opened. Glaring down at him, at first very surprised and then very angry, was Snape.

Coldly, the Potions Master said, "He told me he told you not to come. I should have known he was lying."

"What?" Harry asked, startled into forgetting himself.

"Sirius isn't here," Snape said. "He left on a mission yesterday."

"Oh," he replied. He did not like the sound of that. "Well, I can just go back to the castle..."

Snape glanced back at something inside the house. His frown became a half-sneer, his left hand twitched, and for a moment he seemed to be debating something with himself.

"No," he said very reluctant and resentfully. "They've stopped serving dinner at the castle and Sirius will never forgive me if you starve." He ordered brusquely, "Come in."

Rather nervously, Harry stepped over the threshold and entered. Snape closed the door behind him.

"Wait here."

Snape stormed past him and a few minutes later he heard angry clangs from what he assumed was the kitchen. Harry took a moment to glance about the living room. With pale purple walls and carpeting, it did not look much like the interior of a cabin. A sofa, two armchairs, and three end tables scattered about the room provided furnishings. The mantle of the fireplace was bare; photos, knickknacks, or other decorations were completely absent except for a clock and several red, gold, green, and silver bulbs that looked like Christmas ornaments. There were no jars of slime or floating eyeballs like in Snape's office, but even if Snape did deal with such substances every day, why would he keep them in the living room?

Snape soon returned and ordered, "Come!"

Harry obeyed and followed him into the kitchen.

The kitchen was immaculate. Tiled in gleaming white squares with matching cabinets and a strangely Muggle-like stove, it was neater and cleaner than Aunt Petunia's, however the floating Lumos-bulbs, gold cauldron on the burner, self-cleaning sink, and very odd cabinet emitting nasty vibes proclaimed it every bit as magical as the Weasleys'. For a moment, Harry had the very disturbing image of Snape wearing Mrs. Weasley's ruffled pink apron, which he immediately shook from his mind.

The table, covered in a violet cloth, was set for two, a plate at each end. Food was already served and steaming on the dishes. As Harry sat, he was amazed at how normal it looked. In fact, it was turkey.

Well, what did you expect him to serve? he asked himself. A first-year? Actually, that would not have surprised him...

Harry's appetite was thoroughly lost, but he managed to force down small bites of his food. As soon as he returned to the castle, he was going to tell Hermione exactly what he ate so she could test him for poison. He did not look at Snape. He did not think that Snape's table manners were disgusting- he personally suspected that the Potions Master cut and chewed his food with such precision it was uncanny- but he still did not want to see it.

The tension in the room made the silence drawn-out and awkward, apparently enough to bother even Snape. After five minutes, he asked Harry, "What are you learning in the Dark Arts?"

Harry wondered if he had forgotten to say "Defense Against" purposely.

"Cursed objects," he answered quickly, then feeling a sudden need to elaborate, continued, "Like the Hand of Glory and Staff of Saruman and..."

Should I say it? It was risky, but he was curious to see Snape's reaction.

"...and Aphrodiluses."

Snape put down his fork. "Aphrodiluses?" he asked softly. "Your professor told you about Aphrodiluses?"

Harry hesitated. "Well..."

Snape did not give him time to finish. "It's about time Hogwarts had someone who taught that course properly."

Snape sipped a liquid- it looked like water, but who really knew?- and did not continue.

So, he knows what an Aphrodilus is... "Just how powerful is an Aphrodilus?" Harry asked carefully.

A sinister smirk spread across Snape's face as an evil thought sprung into his head. "It would make even you and Voldemort find each other hopelessly irresistible."

That thought was nasty in more ways than Harry cared to count.

"Could you make one?"

Snape's glass clanked down on the table. From the look on the professor's face, Harry knew he had really put his foot in it this time.

"What sort of a question is that, Potter?"

"I mean," he blurted, "can an ordinary wizard make one?"

For a brief moment, Snape's twisted smile returned. "Why don't we call Mr. Weasley into my office on Monday and run a little test to find out?" he suggested.

Harry really did not like Snape's sense of humor.

The silence took over for several moments, then Snape suddenly said in a dangerous tone, "I know what you're thinking, Harry."

Harry stopped eating and looked up at him. Snape's eyes were fixed upon him with a deadly glare.

"The Dark Lord is the only wizard alive powerful enough to construct an Aphrodilus," he continued, "but such a device produces only desire and obsession. Not love."

It was more than Harry could bear. "But- you and Sirius-"

"Do you realize what a rude little boy you are?" Snape snapped.

Harry said nothing. His cheeks burned, but Snape was right. It was an inappropriate question. He finished his meal only because it was the dignified thing to do.