Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Hetalia in any way. Their respective creators do a much better job with them than I ever could.

From the Ground Up

Background: Alfred is head of the Gryffindor house, and is also the potions professor. Arthur is the head of the Hufflepuff house, and is also the herbology professor.

"… And that's why you should never hold this plant by its stem. Only by the leaf. Let me show you what happens if you don't heed my words."

The class watched, enraptured, as Professor Kirkland took his forceps and slowly approached the harmless looking flower from the side. It didn't look too different from a rose, actually, except for the fact that the petals were a milky translucent white, and the stem glowed with a subtle blue, as if veined with some radioactive azure sap.

Arthur had shown this demonstration countless times before, but each time was still just as nerve wrecking as the last, if not more so, because he already knew what was coming. Just as the class was waiting with abated breath, Arthur, too, was not allowing himself any room to breathe.

He came at the plant from the edges, knowing that the moment he touched the forceps to the plant and squeezed even the slightest bit, the reaction would occur. His nerves stood on end, and he felt jittery, like he did every time. Luckily, he had mastered the move enough that he hadn't been to the infirmary for this demonstration for four years already. That must have been something.

Arthur moved closer, and the students leaned in behind their protective barriers and defenses. Professor Kirkland was taking no chances, and based on the hype he had created around this one lesson, all the students expected it to be big. The upperclassmen had all boasted about it, but no one had ever said a word as to what actually occurred as a result. It was one of the great mysteries of third year biology, and a reason why so many students took the class. Arthur had transformed the subject when he had taken up the post of professor, changing it from a boring credit to a class actually worth taking.

The professor licked his lip and tensed his shoulders, struggling to keep his fingers steady. His breathing was calm, his gaze was focused, and all he had to do was move barely a centimeter more, and—

"Hey Artie!"

Arthur jumped backward, his forceps landing upon the ground with a resounding clang. The students jumped as well, all their heads swiveling to face the main door. There, warmly clad in at least four thick layers and fresh from the snow, was Alfred F. Jones, professor of potions, bright and beaming.

"Artie! I need your help!" Alfred rushed in and headed straight to the front of the class, bypassing the barrier as if it had nothing on him whatsoever. He had always had a knack for breaking down Arthur's defenses, which was perhaps why they were dating in the first place.

The students burst into laughter, it being no secret the two professors were an item, and a wonderfully adorable one at that. Professor Jones bursting in upon Professor Kirkland's lessons was an occurrence that happened at least once a month, though usually more often that that (and definitely far more often than the herbology professor would have liked, or at least would have admitted to liking).

Alfred rushed over to where Arthur was leaning against the wall, his hand upon his chest, his breathing still heavy and his heart still pounding away from the shock and the sudden rush of adrenaline.

"Arthur, I need a few stems of—" Alfred paused, his eyebrows furrowing as he took in the sight of his disheveled lover. "Are you okay?"

Arthur tried his best to glare at Alfred as he regained his breath. He was relieved that Alfred hadn't run right into the table, which would have probably knocked the plant over and caused an explosion bigger than this one greenhouse could contain. At least there was that to be thankful for.

"You know better than to do that by now, Professor Jones," Arthur muttered, straightening up and fixing his tie. He brushed himself off gingerly and cleared his throat, trying to regain whatever composure he could, for he was sure the whole class had heard him shriek in his moment of surprise earlier.

Alfred pouted and crossed his arms. "Don't call me that, Artie. That's boring." He harrumphed and tapped his feet in annoyance. "You always have such interesting names for me, especially after we've had particularly good se—"

"Enough, Alfred!" Arthur glanced at his students nervously, trying to gauge if they caught that slip. The good news was that they were pretending not to have heard, but the bad news was that they were, well, pretending. And obviously so, at that.

Alfred whirled around to face the class, his eyes lighting up as if he were noticing for the first time. "Oh, hey guys!" he exclaimed, waving with both arms in a way that Arthur deemed to be wholly unnecessary and overly emphatic. The potions professor then laughed and winked, adding, "You don't mind if I borrow Artie—err, Professor Kirkland—for a moment, do ya?"

"What? No, Alfred. I'm in the middle of cla—"

"Awww, Artie. But they don't mind, see?" Alfred murmured, gesturing to the crowd of students who were giggling at the absurdity that was this relationship they were witnessing between their two adored professors (possibly the two most adored professors in the school, aside from Professor Gilbert Beilschmidt, who somehow always managed to make Defense Against the Dark Arts a thrilling and new adventure each and every day—in a completely safe way, of course. Right).

Alfred turned back to Arthur, who was still trying to decide whether or not he was annoyed or amused, and took both of the herbology professor's hands in his. With an earnest smile that Arthur could never refuse, he leaned down to best expose his wide puppy-dog cerulean eyes. Alfred had been inside the greenhouse plenty enough times to know which angle worked best for the lighting to be most optimal and effective in order for him to get what he wanted.

"Please, Arthur? It's snowing outside, so just let them go early today and enjoy their lives while they can."

Arthur bit his lip and turned back to his demonstration, the stem of the flower exactly where he had left it, everything still intact. It could keep until tomorrow if he carefully placed it into a cool place of storage, and he guessed it was true that he hadn't spent time with Alfred in a while, ever since their last trip out to Hogsmeade two weeks ago, post-winter holiday. It couldn't hurt if just this once...

"Fine, fine," Arthur muttered. He turned back to the students and threw his hand up dismissively. "Shoo, you young rascals. You've got the rest of the day off thanks to Professor Jones, so you all best study for his potions exam next Friday." Arthur's eyes narrowed in a mock threat. "If any of you don't pass, I'll be expecting you to do this highly dangerous demonstration yourself. In front of the whole class," he added, gesturing to the toxic plant before him, still lying upon the desk. "Now get going."

The class gave a cheer, quite a few of them actually thanking Alfred for giving them their afternoon of luxury. Alfred only winked back and murmured a few "you're welcome"s before the last of the class was out the door, highly thankful that their two professors were as silly in love as they were. It made life for the students a breeze, not to mention that it provided endless entertainment and worked as a constant source of gossip for the rest of the school, especially in instances like these.

Professor Jones was the silliest professor many of them had ever encountered for potions (and the first teacher as head of Gryffindor to hold that post in quite a while). Professor Kirkland was the brightest and most dedicated professor many of them had also ever met, and was a blast when it came to herbology, simply because the Hufflepuff head of house enjoyed the subject so much and only wished to share his enthusiasms with the world. Together, however, they were beyond amazing, not because their partnership yielded anything spectacular, but because their antics simply brightened up the school to no end. They might have been fully grown adults and full-fledged professors, but Jones and Kirkland brought out the children in each other, and what student didn't like to see that side of their professors?

When the last of the class was out the door, Arthur whirled around to face Alfred,scowling as he did so, though Alfred knew that that was only a sign of his deep affections. Arthur was nice to those that he barely knew, and when he started to frown around them, it was a sign that he liked them. And when he started to insult them and verbally toss them about, that's when it was obvious that he really liked them. And then, in Alfred's case, Arthur had begun to hit him occasionally, though jokingly so, which was a clear sign that Arthur was deeply and truly in love. That was quite sweet, in Alfred's opinion (though perhaps he was biased, as he constituted one-half of this wonderful and magical loving relationship with Eyebrows over here).

"Now what do you want?" Arthur asked, trying his hardest to be annoyed, though his vaguely smiling eyes betrayed him.

"Artie, don't be like that!" Alfred pouted, giving Arthur's hands a squeeze. "I just came to ask you a question, that's all."

Arthur chuckled a bit, unable to help his amusement at Alfred's adorable expression. However, since he was also trying to keep his composure and present a front of seriousness and irritation, his face ended up twitching between expressions in a way that only made him smile even more. He was only ever this ridiculous with Alfred, and it was only with Alfred that things were so damn hard yet so very easy at the same time.

"Was it really that urgent that you couldn't wait?"

"Of course!" Alfred replied. "You don't expect me to interrupt you for just anything, do you?"

"Oh yes I do. You always come for the stupidest reasons."

Arthur thought back to the last time that this had happened, which was about a month ago. Alfred had come bursting in in much of the same fashion, though that time carrying a cauldron with him as well, filled with some delicately pink and aromatic potion he was trying his best not to spill. He had placed it ceremoniously upon the desk, interrupting Arthur as he was in the middle of extracting a four legged worm-type creature from an apple to show to the class. Refusing to leave until Arthur had given the potion a taste, Alfred had stood there obnoxiously blocking everyone's view. Arthur had had no choice.

Even today, Arthur still shuddered to think about that experience. There was no better way to make a fool of yourself than to be potioned into declaring your love for your significant other constantly and loudly for twenty four hours straight. Needless to say, although everyone had had a laugh or two about it (even Arthur, at a point much later on), the herbology professor was not amused at the time.

"Well it's different this time," Alfred replied, and with a sudden sincerity and warmth in his tone that it caught Arthur wholly off guard. He forgot for a moment that he was supposed to be annoyed, rather than a silly lovestruck wizard that would go to the ends of the earth and back just for this very man standing before him.

"You can't be serious," Arthur murmured, though his own tone was vague and absentminded as he stared at Alfred's earnest blue eyes. He took an involuntary step toward Alfred, unable to help that Alfred was just always so inviting, his arms so muscled that it was all Arthur yearned for to be wrapped up in them and to stay there forever.

"I am, though!" To make his point, Alfred stepped backward and out of Arthur's reach, breaking their little moment, as much as it pained him. "I need an ingredient."

Arthur scowled, unhappy at the sudden lack of proximity, but it did do the trick to get him to focus once again.

"An ingredient you couldn't wait for? Really." Arthur sighed and crossed his arms. If they weren't going to be holding Alfred's hands, then at least he could try his best to keep them warm. Of course, nothing could ever rival Alfred's space-heating capabilities, and thus, Arthur's hands were left wanting, despite his best efforts.

"Well, spit it out. What is it?"

Alfred ran a hand through his messy hair and grinned sheepishly, almost blushing even, though perhaps that was merely a trick of the light. He shifted his feet about for a moment before finally looking up, his expression actually somewhat tentative, a surprising look for one usually so bold.

"It's you."

And before Arthur could voice a reaction, Alfred reached out and took him by the arm, grinning. "Let's go!" he exclaimed, and ran off with Arthur in tow, no explanation to give but his shining smile and his gentle touch to soothe any of Arthur's possible worries.

Arthur found himself standing in the main potions classroom, surrounded by instruments, burners and beakers. There were a few potions that were silently bubbling away in their cauldrons far off to the side, but there was one main one that was taking center stage, clearly meant to be the point of attention—namely, Arthur's.

"What's this?" Arthur asked, gesturing unnecessarily at the pot, but he had always felt a bit useless standing before a cauldron, unable to do much else. Even in his years at Hogwarts ages ago, Arthur had never been a master of potions. He could barely remember the steps to some of the simpler ones, let alone tweak them or perhaps even invent a few of his own. Alfred, on the other hand, had been a natural from the moment he picked up his first ingredient. He had taken potions at one of the American wizarding institutions, and even at the young age of twelve, he had already thought up quite a few clever ones, some of which were practically in mainstream usage by this point.

Arthur had always admired Alfred's skill with potions, though he rarely ever admitted it. But they both knew that they respected each other's work, just as they knew that they would never ever look down upon one another for being a bit less skilled in the other's realm of teaching.

Alfred rounded the desk so that he was standing with the cauldron in between them. He futsed around a bit with a few ingredients, straightening a few bottles and vials in an obvious way of buying time. Arthur picked up on the fact that the potions professor was (in one of his rare moments) nervous, though he couldn't for the life of him figure out why.

"What's—" Arthur began to try again.

"It's a potion, Arthur." Well, that much was obvious.

"What's it called?"

"It's one of my own invention, so it's yet to have a name."

Alfred was relieved that the questions were starting off easy. He still wasn't sure if making this potion was crossing any lines somewhere, but he sure liked the idea. Nevertheless, presenting things to Arthur was always difficult, considering the Brit sometimes made it nigh impossible to tell whether he liked something or not. He was either grumpy about everything, or graciously and politely accepting of everything. There wasn't much of a middle ground of truth to be had, even if Alfred was the one who came the closest to ever finding that area.

"All right," Arthur murmured, thinking to try another avenue. His curiosity was piqued, and now that Alfred had dragged him all the way here from the grounds, he felt like was owed a nice detailed explanation at the least. "What does it do, then?"

"It... well, it's a bit complicated to explain." Alfred scratched the back of his neck, glancing everywhere but at Arthur.

"Alfred," Arthur sighed, in the tone that the potions professor had come to learned meant that there was a long speech up ahead. Thus, before that could occur, since they both had class to attend to in only an hour or so, Alfred butted back in.

"How about I just show you?"

Arthur stared at the purplish, bubbling potion and nodded. Demonstrations were always his preferred method of teaching anyway.

"Now you need to trust me," Alfred began, as he pulled a small scalpel out from the drawer beneath the table. "I need your hand."

Arthur's eyes widened as he glanced warily in the direction of the blade. Another reason that he was terrible at potions was because he was always secretly terrified of cutting himself, especially when chopping ingredients. For some reason, working with pesky weeds and gardening tools was a different sort of experience that left him feeling satisfied. But knives in addition to slippery eyeballs and impossibly hardened dried beetles or anything else of the sort? No, thank you.

"I'm not sure, Al..."

"Don't you trust me, Arthur?"

The herbology professor looked up, his eyes meeting those bright blue ones, which were actually so serious and sincere that they almost caused Arthur to take a step backward. But these were the eyes that he had fallen in love with; these were the eyes that he dreamed about, that he longed to stare into for days and days on end.

Of course he trusted these eyes.

With a sigh, Arthur grudgingly rolled up his sleeve and presented Alfred his hand. He kept his eyes carefully trained upon the desk, biting his lip as he braced himself for the pain. To his surprise, Alfred laughed. Arthur immediately got irritated.

"Alfre—"

"Artie, you're too funny." It was nice to see Alfred back to his mirthful self, if only for a moment. "I'm not going to cut you," Alfred explained, still shaking with laughter.

Arthur blushed, clearly annoyed and embarrassed at his silly mistake. Of course Alfred wouldn't cut him. Alfred knew from firsthand experience just how much Arthur hated knives. There were some good reasons why Arthur wasn't the best at cooking as well, after all.

Alfred took Arthur's proffered hand in his own and smiled sweetly. "What I need it for is to hold for this... err... ritual."

If Arthur hadn't been curious before, he sure was now. But before he could voice any of his questions, Alfred cut his own hand in one swift move, letting the blood drip into the cauldron. The hand was also still gripping Arthur's, so tightly that it almost hurt.

And then the incantation began.

It involved a few flicks of Alfred's wand with his free hand, a few more ingredients thrown in amidst the words, and quite a bit of tapping along Arthur's knuckles in a pattern that he could have sworn was based on Rick Astley's "Never Gonna Give You Up"—not that Arthur knew that song all that well, of course. Not at all.

There was a sudden gust of wind that surged up from the hall, and then, just like that, the moment ended.

Arthur stood there, feeling no different save for a few misaligned hairs here and there. Alfred seemed not so different either, his cut having healed up somewhere in the process. The potion was still purple and still bubbling away, though it seemed to be a bit more viscous now than it was before.

"Was that why you needed me? To hold your hand?" Arthur raised one skeptical eyebrow.

"It's not like I needed you here because I was scared, sheesh!" Alfred replied. "It was a crucial part of the spell—or at least I think it is, though I've never tried this before, as I've said." Although Alfred had rolled his eyes at Arthur's comment, his lips were upturned in a bright grin. The spell seemed to have worked, and now there was only one thing left to do: test it out.

Luckily, this wasn't a potion meant for drinking, otherwise Arthur would have probably balked at the idea, considering his last experience with taking something that Alfred had made. And since this potion wasn't meant for Alfred, the potions master wouldn't have tried it either.

"Now what?" Arthur asked. "You still haven't told me what it does."

"Well, I don't quite know what it does," Alfred replied, placing a small amount into a vial with a small dropper.

"Wait, what?"

Alfred turned off the flame and walked around the table. He held the vial up to the light so that Arthur could see through it and admire its translucent beauty in the sun.

"It sort of imprints to you. The potion, I mean."

"You mean it imprints to you, since it was your blood that went in there."

"Well... no. My blood was a sort of means of transfer, since I was touching you. You see, I think what I did was I took a piece of your spirit and—"

"You did what?!" Arthur backed up a few steps so that he could see Alfred's face clearly. The potions professor wasn't joking. He really had taken a piece of Arthur's soul—or at least he thought he did, which might have even been worse, considering how unsure he was sounding about everything.

"Relax, Arthur. It should work." Alfred saw that he needed to placate the herbology professor, and quickly at that. Arthur was starting to get that crazed look that could only mean he would go off and try some "stress-relief cooking" again, and no one needed a repeat of that experience. Nearly half of the east wing was still under repairs.

"Relax? Relax? How can I relax when you—"

"Oh just come with me," Alfred muttered exasperatedly, pulling Arthur after him. They dashed up through various flights of stairs until they finally reached the outdoors once again. Alfred kept on running until he came upon a little piece of shade under a tree by the field where the greenhouses were held.

"Ready?"

Arthur was still a bit winded from the run, never having been quite as athletic as Alfred in all of their years together.

"Ready for what?" he panted out, his mind at least temporarily distracted from the fact that a piece of his soul had just been taken that afternoon. Just the usual day at Hogwarts for Professor Kirkland, of course. Just the usual.

"This."

And with great finesse and ceremony, Alfred unstoppered the vial and upturned the whole container so that its liquids streamed down upon the ground. Arthur gave a small cry of surprise, not having expected for everything to just be wasted like that, especially after all the work and the incantation and the blood and—oh, right. His spirit, for God's sake.

"What'd you do that for?" Arthur asked, gesturing at the ground in vague annoyance. But Alfred shushed him gently with a finger upon his lips. With a tingling excitement, Alfred pointed at the spot where the liquid had landed and murmured, "Look."

It was small at first, but it only took a few minutes for the sprout in the ground to grow to its full size. It was the height of an average bluebell, except that it held the oddest looking flowers Arthur had ever seen in all of his life. Beside him, he could hear Alfred take in a deep breath, and when Arthur looked up, he could see Alfred's cheeks were tinged red, and his eyes were shining with tears.

What?

"I don't understand," Arthur started. "What's so special about the—"

"Arthur, you love me! You really do love me!" Alfred exclaimed, as he suddenly pounced upon Arthur with the most emphatic hug the hapless herbology professor had ever received. Arthur was laughing at the overt display of affection, but he was also quite puzzled.

"What do you mean?" he asked, squeezing Alfred back. "Of course I do. You already know that, so why—"

"But look, Arthur," Alfred stated, gesturing to ground where the flowers had grown. He only let Arthur go enough so that the Briton could turn around and examine the little patch once again. "That potion was supposed to take what you loved most and express it in flower form. That's why I needed a part of your soul, so to speak." Alfred was grinning with so much happiness that Arthur thought he might have just bursted at any moment.

"So," Alfred continued, almost giddily jumping up and down, "look there and tell me what you see."

And Arthur did. He examined it for just a moment before his cheeks were ablaze once again, and he turned back to Alfred only to bury his face in Alfred's robes. The reason the flowers had looked so odd was because they formed neat, cursive letters instead of the conventional symmetric form. And on that plant, there was a smattering of "A"s, "F"s and "J"s, along with a generous amount of heart-shaped leaves.

"Does it surprise you?" Arthur muttered darkly, his voice muffled by the folds in Alfred's clothing. "Stupid git," he added, louder.

Alfred laughed and pulled Arthur close to him once more. He was so ecstatic and overjoyed that he was surprised it wasn't just overflowing into the air and permeating the grounds and the whole school.

"Happy anniversary, Arthur," he murmured, burying his nose into that sand-colored hair he adored so very much.

Arthur only grumbled in return, though Alfred had already received the message a thousand times over during his life thus far, and as such, he knew exactly what the Briton meant. And if all those instances before hadn't done the job, then those bright red flowers, still clearly visible in Alfred's view, sure did it just fine.

Alfred had meant for this to be a pleasant surprise for Arthur, but he had honestly had no idea that it would have been such a pleasant surprise for himself as well. Alfred had been gearing up for this all week, tweaking and retweaking until he was sure he had gotten it right, though he never tested it because he wanted this potion to be for Arthur and Arthur only, lover of all flora and fauna. It would have to be one of a kind, unique, and existing with only the sole purpose of making Arthur happy.

Just like Alfred himself.

Author's Comments:

I think this is just going to be my ongoing collection of USUK Pottertalia one-shots from now on. I have too many ideas that are just jumping about hoping to be written, and I am so in love with Pottertalia right now that I'm just melting. Thus, I think I'll keep this as an ongoing document for a while, which I hope to fill with much more Pottertalia in the future! And considering that this is just a whimsical collection of my thoughts and others' thoughts, do not expect serious or great writing to come out of this. This is like my dumpy pile for all the stuff I might ever want to make into full stories too, but will most likely never gett eh chance. I'll spell check and grammar check, but that could just be about it. There's not much editing beyond that (for example, with this first fic, I didn't even have time to do a once-over. So these will all just be very rough drafts.

Credit for this particular one-shot's storyline goes to Haku and Dunya, because they somehow manage to inspire me to write fluff when I usually can't even bear the thought of putting down non-angsty or dark stuff. This is the brainchild of what happens when you put us all in the same (virtual Twitter) room. And I bet that a lot of the rest of this Pottertalia one-shot anthology is going to be based off of their ideas as well.

This first story is also what's gonna count for my Sweethearts Week submission for Day 5 ("flowers")! Wheeeee~

As always, I love your reviews and I love to hear from you. Telling me what you think, what you liked or disliked, etc. is really helpful to me, and it improves my skill greatly, ensuring that I can bring you even better stuff in the future! (Plus, if you have any Pottertalia headcanons of your own, let me know, and whichever ones I'm inspired by, I'll definitely try to put it in writing and add it onto this anthology!)

Happy reading!
Galythia

P.S. I can imagine and write about them in any house, working in any teaching post, etc. I think that they're dynamic enough characters that they can always bring something unique and new to any position or place I put them, and that's why I love USUK so much.