Don't Ever Call Me Draco
[Author's Note: This is the untold story of Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger, set amid the canonical events of the first three Harry Potter books (so far). All feedback welcome, of course.]
Fred Weasley looked from the Siberian love potion to his twin and sighed. "Fine. It's probably fake. But we've got lots, so no problem. All we have to do is select the two lucky guinea pigs and put it to the test."
Fred and George Weasley were in their third year at Hogwarts. Rather to their surprise, the concept of "girls" had recently impressed itself upon their consciousness. Sadly, the concept of "pranksters" had impressed itself upon the girls, so the twins felt they needed an edge—that was also a prank. Hence the Siberian love potion. What a find! Much better than the local muck. You gave it to two people, and they fell in love with each other over a period of days. The slow onset meant that no one suspected a thing. It lasted for weeks before fading away. Or so they had been assured.
Hermione and Ron came into the common room, headed for class. Fred put the potion in his bag without haste. Haste draws the eye.
Hermione was saying, "Really, Ron, it's very simple. It's all in McGuffin's Book of Magical Items, Volume IV. All you have to do is ..." They exited the room, Ron looking glum.
The twins' eyes met and they burst out laughing.
"It's a beautiful idea," said George.
"A stroke of genius," said Fred.
"Too bad," they said together. When something bizarre happened in their brother Ron's life, he always blamed the twins, though it was their fault only half the time. Three-quarters, tops. The increasingly harsh retribution from their parents had eventually put Ron off-limits (unless it was really funny).
"Hermione, on the other hand—" said George.
"Will it even work on a first-year?"
"That's the beauty of it. It'll make them weird, so we'll know it works, but it won't do anything real because they're too young. Perfect."
"I don't know," said Fred. He seemed to remember some painful crushes in his first year. It'd be really funny, though. And they'd return to normal eventually, so no harm done. And kids were resilient, right?
George continued, "We'll give 'em just half a dose, just to be on the safe side. But we'll pick two people who really hate each other. That way we'll be able to tell even if it works even a little bit."
"All right. Who?"
They started into space for a while, considering, but then Harry Potter entered the room, walking briskly, since he was almost late for class.
"Potter!" called Fred. "Settle a bet for us!"
Harry stopped reluctantly. "What?"
"Which first-year does Hermione hate more than anyone?"
Harry said, "Draco Malfoy, of course." He hurried off.
The twins broke into delighted guffaws. It was a while before they could speak. In a hoarse whisper, they both said, "Granger and Malfoy!"
Fred whispered in a choked falsetto, "Oh, Draco, you're so snotty! I love you!"
George whispered in an identical falsetto, "Oh, Hermione, your tedium drives me wild!"
Together they whispered, "Kiss me!"
Hermione stared unseeing at page 113 of Platonic to Passionate: A Universal Compendium of Magical Adjuncts to Emotional Attachment, by a Very Happy Witch. It had never occurred to her that there were things she didn't want to know. She'd always thought she wanted to know everything. But this stuff was embarrassing! And it alternated between sly euphemisms she had trouble understanding and blunt directness that she had trouble believing.
Worse, she wasn't getting the answer she wanted. She couldn't have a crush on Draco Malfoy! It was ridiculous; it was impossible. Just the thought of him smiling at her, stroking her hair, kissing her softly on the lips, was enough to ... to ... Well, such thoughts were supposed to be enough to fill her with disgust! Or make her laugh uncontrollably. But that's not what was happening. She'd found herself memorizing his class schedule and his birthday. Not to mention reading every word in the library about the Malfoy family.
She had to be under a spell, right? Please let it be a spell! Then it wouldn't be her fault. But her symptoms didn't match any of the descriptions of love potions and love spells.
Oh, god, what if this was real?
She had opened this book intending to discover how to remove love spells, or at least detect them, but instead she found herself studying ways to make Draco feel as she did. He didn't like her, she knew. She was all wrong for him. She was too plain, too outspoken, too Muggle-born, too ... everything.
A quiet voice broke in on her thoughts. "Granger."
She looked up. "Draco!" she gasped.
Draco glared at her. "Don't ever call me Draco." He looked around. There was no one near. Even so, he said coldly, "Find us a private place to talk. I don't want to be seen with you."
She hesitated, torn between three insults and two ... other statements. What? Had he said "a private place"? She nodded and said, "This way."
She took him to a tiny, out-of-the-way study nook she'd just discovered, with a window seat overlooking a courtyard. She'd spent hours here yesterday and not a single person had come by.
Trying for the initiative, she said, "What do you want, Malfoy?"
"That's better," he said. "You feel it too, don't you?" Behind his coldness, he was nervous.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"You're not stupid, Granger."
She tried staring him down. He met her gaze, and almost at once his eyes began to smile. She looked away hastily.
"Well?" he asked.
"What happens if I call you Draco?"
He scowled, then fidgeted for a moment before saying, "Bad things happen to me. Bad things happen to you. Maybe to your friend Potter. I'm not sure."
"Why?"
"Just call me Malfoy, all right? And if anyone's around, ignore me as much as you can. It's dangerous to be my friend; it's dangerous to be my enemy. If you need a reason ..." He stared into space for a moment, then turned to her and said, "Assume that my father is crazy, his friends are worse, and he's the kind of man who hires people to spy on his own son."
"Is that true?"
"My father is not crazy."
"Oh." She looked him in the eye again and said, "I feel it too."
He sighed. "Damn." He slumped down on the window seat.
She asked, "When will it wear off?"
"You tell me, Granger. You're the research genius."
"Thank you."
"It wasn't a compliment. I'd never praise a revolting object like you."
"Likewise, Malfoy. I hate your hair."
"Is it even more disgusting than yours? Yours looks like a haystack."
"I'm afraid so."
"Good. Anything to keep you at arm's length. I don't think I could stand it if I ..." He blushed. A boy as pale as Draco could blush like a sunset. "Never mind."
"I don't know when it'll wear off. A normal love potion—"
Draco was coughing theatrically.
"What?" she asked.
"What a beastly word! I'm allergic to it."
"What?"
"Try to keep up, Granger. Don't be so dashed direct. Sometimes the walls have great big ears attached to little tiny brains. Don't make it easy for them."
"Oh. All right. A normal potion of the type in question—"
"Much better," said Draco. "Sometimes you're hardly incompetent at all."
"Likewise, I'm sure. A potion of the type in question would have worn off ages ago."
"Multiple doses?" he suggested.
"They're supposed to take effect all in a rush. That's not what I ... that's not what Subject A felt."
"Likewise for Subject B," said Draco, smiling slightly and nodding approvingly.
Hermione, a little breathless from the smile, asked, "Could it be ... real? The normal operation of ... natural forces?"
"How would I know? Look it up."
"I will."
The clock tower chimed. Draco sighed. "Out of time. Granger, not a word to your ghastly little friends. Or to a diary, or anything like that. It's not safe."
"What if I already told them?" Not that she had.
"Just stop chattering on about it. Their empty little minds will flit to another topic."
"All right."
"And Granger?"
"Yes, Malfoy?"
He fidgeted and looked away from her, then said, "If it doesn't wear off right away ... don't worry that I'll commit suicide or anything. You're not worth it."
She smiled at him. "Me, too."
"So drop dead, Granger, and I'll probably have the bad luck to see you later. God knows you're always lurking about the library and I always have an imaginary project to research."
"Break a leg, Malfoy. I'd hate you if I ever noticed you."
He edged out of the nook, staying as far from her as possible, then practically ran for the exit.
Hermione gathered up her books. Research time was over for the day. She had some diary pages to destroy.
"I don't see any changes in either of them," said Fred. They were sitting in the Gryffindor common room. "Malfoy and Hermione are acting just the same."
"Yeah," said George. "Maybe we should have given them the full dose."
"How much did you give them?"
"What do you mean? Half a dose! That's what we agreed."
"I mean," said Fred, "what was your estimate of their body weights?"
"Body weights?" asked George blankly.
Fred dug in his bag and pulled out the instruction sheet. He handed it to George. "Show me."
George ran a finger down the sheet. At the bottom he stopped. "The dosage is right here … oh. It's just an example for a 150-pound person. I gave half that to each of them."
Fred flipped the sheet over. There was a table on the back giving dosage by body weight.
George sighed. "All right. What would we guess? Eighty pounds each?" He ran his finger down the table. "It was a full dose."
"Right," said Fred.
"That was sloppy of us," said George.
"I'm almost glad the stuff was fake," said Fred. "We might have caused some serious trouble!"
[Next: The Dueling Duo]
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