Triple Element Migraine Relief

After regaining my standing in the Slytherin House (and acquiring five more customers in the process), I began preparing the Room for the oncoming mass-production of Euphoria #2. Valencia obtained several bronze cauldrons - the potion didn't work if brewed in pewter - and Lestrange (somehow) produced a full dragon liver (fresh, no less). I knew these didn't come free - nothing did in Slytherin - but that was an obstacle I'd overcome at a later date.

For now, I needed to secure Lucy's service and that required chocolate frogs - a lot of chocolate frogs. I'd tried producing WW myself, but I didn't possess the magic to make it potent enough. I also didn't want to risk bringing another person in - the fewer people who knew about WW, the better - so I was stuck scavenging for chocolate frogs.

This, of course, meant I was stuck looking for the frogs when I could be running my experiments. I'd arranged to meet my contact at the Hufflepuff-Ravenclaw game later that evening, and I walked through the corridors as quickly as I could without attracting notice, following the stragglers as they made their way towards the Pitch.

Although I hated attending such a crowded event (especially considering I still got jeers thrown my way on a regular basis), it was a necessary evil.

I pulled my plain grey scarf closer around my robes, casually obscuring the emerald badge on my chest. Luckily, it was still chilly, so my scarf didn't look too conspicuous. A few soft clumps of snow drifted lazily down, a remnant of the waning winter season. I shivered, looking up. The sky was an odd yellow-grey, the colour of a sobering draught, and I could just make out a waxing gibbous moon through the thick clouds advancing from the north. The spring was slow in coming, and, while I was hardly superstitious, I feared the lingering winter boded ill.

The frost-encased grass crunched underneath my feet as I inserted myself in the middle of a throng of Gryffindor first years. I kept my head down as we passed the Slytherin stands, pretending to laugh along as a girl beside me joked with her friend. I followed them as they ascended the wooden bleachers, branching off as they turned to sit in one of the lower benches.

The floating, giant translucent spheres began to flicker, throwing rays of warm light onto the cheering crowds. The announcer announced the players on each team, his voice magically enhanced to reach every corner of the Pitch.

I walked up the steps as quickly as I could without drawing attention. Fortunately, the Gryffindors were too preoccupied with cheering to notice the lone Slytherin in their midst. I paused at the row second to the top and, glancing around, moved past four laughing sixth years to sit in the empty space to the right of a muscular blonde.

"Davis," I greeted, adjusting my scarf.

"YEAH, SMITH!" the boy bellowed, clapping enthusiastically.

I resisted the urge to check my wristwatch - 7:30 PM. I could be chopping Doxy eggs or adding the penultimate ingredient to my Essence of Aphrodite now.

"I need two dozen chocolate frogs," I said once Davis had calmed down. "As soon as possible."

He turned to face me. "Two dozen? Merlin, woman, how fast do you go through them?"

"Can you do it or not?" I said stiffly, smoothing my robes with slightly-numb fingers. I should have brought gloves.

I scanned the bleachers again, searching for any eavesdroppers, but they were groaning over a foul. Satisfied that no one was watching, I held a translucent vial of sobering draught out so Davis could see it.

Davis glanced at me distractedly, reaching over to slip the vial into his robes. "I'll have to check," he said. The crowd groaned again, and he scowled at the Pitch. "FOUL!" he bellowed.

"Check with whom?" I asked impatiently. Honestly, if I could just cut out the middleman from this business, the whole exchange would be much faster.

"J-" he began, eyes still fixed on the game. I watched him eagerly, ready to commit the name to memory -

Davis looked at me sharply. "I'll let you know by the end of the week, alright?"

The end of the week? I cursed him silently. I'd have to deal with the repercussions from Lucy later (she was a scary sight without proper sugary fuel), but what choice did I have? The next Hogsmeade trip was not for another three weeks, and I didn't want to go to Lestrange.

"When?" I prompted finally. "Friday? Saturday?"

I didn't get a reply; he was too engrossed in the match. Sigh. Quidditch. A blessing, as it opened the market for countless reflex enhancing and broom care potions. A curse, as it distracted people from getting down to business.

I gathered my scarf around my neck and stood, ignoring the disgruntled protests from the people sitting in the row behind, and made my way past the seated Gryffindors.

Well, at least the encounter had passed without a major alterca-

"Thorne!" someone shouted and, judging by the way my name was made to sound like the worst curse, it was not someone friendly.

I really needed to stop making conclusions prematurely.

I considered pushing past the last four Gryffindors and making a run of it, but I didn't want to draw unneeded attention.

I swiveled, keeping my expression carefully neutral. Head Boy and, surprisingly enough, Head Girl sat at the end of the top row, with Dark and Hostile and Short sitting to their right.

One person was conspicuously absent.

"Where's Lupin?" I asked before I could stop myself. Great. Now they were going to -

Dark and Hostile whipped out his wand, surging to his feet.

-do that.

Merlin, he was quick to draw his wand. Dark and Hostile was over twenty-five centimeters taller than I was on level ground, so with the added height of the extra step, he fully towered over me.

"Don't you dare say his name!" he said harshly.

Although my face didn't change, I felt guilt surging through my body. Merlin, as much as I'd like to write off Dark and Hostile's words as a product of his less-than-friendly personality, he was right - at least about this.

Head Girl took pity on me. "Remus has a migraine," she said, although the words were a bit cold.

I nodded at her, but she'd turned away pointedly.

Head Boy looked at me coldly. "Stay away from us," he said angrily.

The altercation was beginning to draw attention, and I realised with mounting fear that my scarf had shifted in the wind, revealing my gleaming badge.

Bugger.

I turned coolly away from the Merry Gryffindors and, keeping my head high, walked calmly down the metal bleachers.

"Bloody Slytherin!" I heard someone jeer.

"Did you come to hug all of us, too?"

I didn't react. Instead, I pushed past the spectators and, ignoring the flying players speeding through the air above me, left the Pitch.

Once I'd returned to the safety of my lab, I let out a long, shaking breath, sinking to the ground. I pressed my back against the cold wall and stared at my rows of cauldrons. This was the part where anyone like Lucy - or anyone, really - would begin to cry. Logically, I knew that was the natural emotional response to days of guilt, stress, and attacks. Still, the tears wouldn't come. Perhaps there was, as Mother claimed, something fundamentally wrong with me. Perhaps it wasn't my anger that made me a monster - perhaps I simply was a monster, emotions or no.

I sighed heavily, getting to my feet as I squashed that thought. This train of thought wouldn't further any of my goals. Instead, my gaze strayed to the neatly organised rack of ingredients, my eyes resting on the pale green shoots of Star Grass I'd purchased for my future expansion into first aid potions.

Perhaps there was a way to alleviate my lingering guilt. I jogged towards the far bookshelf, grabbing a well-thumbed copy of Advanced Potions Making. I flipped to the index, running my finger down the long list of potions, before pausing on one titled "Headache Reliever."

I turned to the page and scanned the ingredient list. I was in luck - I had all the necessary ingredients, although the potion would require using the last of my crushed Dittany.

I scanned the potion's description, frowning as I read, "cures mild headaches. Effects last for an hour." If Lupin was too ill to attend a Quidditch game with his mates, this simple potion wouldn't cut it. My fingers tightened around the book's spine. I needed to get my hands on a more specialised potions book; the standard seventh year N.E.W.T. curriculum book wasn't enough. That, however, was a task for another day.

I heard a faint whistling sound as the cauldron closest to my left let out a plume of translucent lavender-grey smoke. My sobering draught was almost ready, which was good - I figured I ought to speed up Davis's process with another well-placed bribe. Merlin knew the bloke needed them; I vaguely remembered Lucy mentioning something about the weekly, infamous parties in the Gryffindor Common Room. Demand for my sobering draughts always skyrocketed on those days - I'd modified them to target not only the throbbing mental pain but also the physical sluggishness that accompanied the mornings after particularly eventful nights.

Wait. What if I added the minced mint leaves and lavender from the sobering draught to the Headache Reliever? If I prepared the combined ingredients properly, maybe it could strengthen the potion's mental effects. I'd have to be careful, though; when Star Grass was heated past 40˚C, it expelled a noxious gas that could obscure vision for a minimum of twenty-four hours.

A pair of thick, sturdy round glasses clattered to the ground to my left. I grinned, grabbing the glasses and securing them on my face. I'd miss the Room once I graduated. Humming to myself softly, I began rubbing the Star Grass against a block of gold, careful to collect the shavings in a pewter dish.

I just hoped this worked.

The next morning, I stumbled out of the lab, slipping the still-warm potion bottle - which I'd tentatively dubbed "Triple Element Migraine Relief" - into my pocket.

Stifling a yawn, I made my way blearily down the stairs. I could hear distant chatter as students made their way to the dining hall for breakfast. My hair smelled strongly of lavender, and I briefly wondered if I ought to return to the dorms to bathe first.

I quickly scolded myself for the thought - Lupin might still be in pain this very second, and I wanted to rest? My gift wouldn't have nearly the same impact if I gave it to him after he'd recovered. If I wanted the Gryffindor Cheer Squad to stop pulling wands on me every time we met - thus drawing far too much attention - and my guilt to subside, I needed to do this now.

Besides, I didn't care what they - or anyone - thought of my outward appearance.

I entered the dining hall briskly and stalked to the Gryffindor table. The Cheer Quartet - and it was a quartet, again, I noted with some relief - was easy to spot; they were laughing the loudest, basking - or at least enjoying - the attention of their admirers.

Still, I noticed Lupin was even quieter than usual, and his normally golden-hued skin appeared sallow. Good - well, not good, exactly, but at least it meant my potion wouldn't be unappreciated. I needed him to feel grateful to me if I wanted these excessively ill feelings to dissipate. Besides, good will - or at least tolerance - from the most outwardly Gryffindor bunch in Hogwarts would further help the grand plan of improving public opinion of the Slytherin house.

Ignoring the increasing whispers, I walked up to Lupin and tapped his shoulder.

He turned, his eyes widening slightly as he took in my harried appearance. Well, he didn't look any better - in fact, up close he looked downright wretched. Purple sleep marks stained the skin under his eyes, and deep creases had appeared between his angular brows. I could see the hollows of his cheeks, and his high cheekbones jutted out even more prominently than usual.

I swallowed thickly before banishing my nerves from my voice. "Lupin, may I speak with you for a moment?" I said lowly.

He hesitated. "You can speak with me here," he said finally.

Dark and Hostile, who had stopped Transfiguring his cup into a frog to listen, said bluntly, "What have you been doing? Rolling in lavender?"

He had a good sense of smell - I was at least two paces away from him. Tucking that information away for future use, I ignored his comment, my eyes not leaving Lupin's.

"I, er…" to my horror, my voice faltered. I wasn't used to apologising. My family was more of the "sweep it under the rug and pretend it never happened" sort, and apologies were admissions of a favour owed in my House, so I never apologised there either.

"I'm sorry for what I said earlier," I said hurriedly, sweat dripping down the small of my back. These winter robes were too bloody heavy.

"Sure you are," Dark and Hostile jeered.

Lupin glanced at Dark and Hostile. "Lay off, Sirius," he said quietly.

Dark and Hostile - Sirius - rolled his eyes. "Your funeral, mate," he said and, shooting me one last glare, turned back to his cup.

"Anyway, I heard you were having headache problems, and I thought this might help," I finished quickly, dropping the potion into his palms.

He looked at it silently, his brow furrowing. "Where did you get this?" he asked finally.

"From the last Hogsmeade trip. I get headaches, too, and this works wonders," I lied smoothly.

He studied me for another long moment before nodding. He winced at the movement, rubbing at his temples. "Merlin, I'll try anything at this point," he said wearily.

"You can't be serious! I'm sure there's poison in there!" Dark and Hostile protested. Wrong. If there were poison of any notable potency in that potion, it would smell faintly of copper. Of course, I supposed the strong lavender smell might mask it, but then again lavender rendered most poisons inert. Besides, I would hardly give him poison in full view of the school. Merlin, the Headmaster was right across the room! No, I'd be more discrete. In fact, I wouldn't even personally deliver it. I'd send it through at least three intermediates, and even then I wouldn't let any of the middlemen know my identity.

Lupin shrugged. "You know me - I like to live dangerously," he said, his lips twisting into a wry smile. Then, with a single, fluid motion, he uncorked the potion and tipped its contents into his mouth.

I turned to leave, stopping when I felt a startlingly warm, almost hot, hand on my bare forearm.

Lupin stood from the table, moving forward to murmur against my ear, "You're forgiven. I know how...difficult it is to lose control."

Horrifyingly enough, the close contact sent a small - small, mind you - shiver down my spine, which I later reasoned was the natural result of an unexpected invasion of personal space.

I stumbled away from the Gryffindor and fled the dining hall.