Happy Fun Hufflepuffs

I needed to start lifting weights. I grunted under the weight of my bag, which was stuffed to the brim with vials of Euphoria #2. While I could have asked some Slytherins to help carry the vials, I had no wish to expose my laboratory's location. I also couldn't ask Lucy, as, after several days of keeping her from the dining hall with poisoned chocolates, she'd caught on and was giving me the silent treatment.

No matter. I'd have to take several trips to transport all the vials to the common room, but there was no use complaining. It had to be done - anything to keep Lestrange off my back. I winced as I took a step down the staircase, the movement sending a fresh clinking noise echoing through the empty corridor. It was late - almost midnight - and most students had returned to their common rooms for the night.

"One, two, three," I muttered to myself, counting the steps as I waddled down. I clutched the bag against my stomach. My arms burned with the effort, and I had to pause every few steps to shake out my cramping limbs. If I were competent with a wand, I'd levitate the bag.

I heard steps approaching and froze. I briefly considered shoving the bag under my shirt but dismissed the notion almost immediately. Instead, I covered most of it with the ends of my robes and pretended to look out the window directly to my right, propping my elbow against the cool stone.

The steps grew louder - one person, thankfully - and, to my surprise, paused. I felt my shoulders slump. Maybe if I didn't turn around, the person would leave.

Silence.

I tried coughing, making the sound as wet and disgusting as possible. There was a nasty stomach bug going around, so this person, if they were at all sane, would leave.

Nothing.

Still looking determinedly out the window, I fished a crumpled tissue from my robes and blew my nose loudly, hacking again for good measure.

"Merlin, Thorne, you sound like my ninety year old grandfather, and he's missing a lung."

I winced. Well, that explained why the person hadn't left after my germ display. I turned, careful to keep my robe covering my bag, and faced Dark and Hostile. Well, at least the staircase was dim enough that the bulbous growth at my ankles was hidden.

"What do you want?" I demanded, shoving the tissue into my pocket. I folded my arms and, when the Gryffindor didn't respond, coughed again.

"Good effort, Thorne," he said.

I scowled. I didn't know him well enough to know how to get rid of him, and it seemed the usual tricks wouldn't work. Instead, I waited. He seemed like he liked hearing the sound of his voice - he'd talk eventually.

And, sure enough, the Gryffindor grinned and leaned against the opposite wall, the picture of lazy ease. "Do you spend a lot of time on the seventh floor?"

I coughed and, this time, the sound wasn't forced. Merlin, I'd have to remember that there was more to this bloke than flashy looks. He was far too perceptive for my liking.

"I like the view," I said.

Black glanced at the window behind me, which I knew yielded only darkness. I should have picked a better lie. "Not much of a view," he said.

I shrugged, saying, "I feel closer to the stars. I'm, uh, very into astrology."

Black laughed, and the sound of it - brash and without any hint of reserve - filled the narrow stairwell. I winced instinctively, glancing for any eavesdroppers. This whole encounter was taking far too long. "Really?" he said, stepping forward. "What's your sign?"

I felt sweat drip down my back. Merlin, I couldn't even leave because of this blasted bag. Didn't this guy have anywhere else to be? Was this really the best use of his time? It was time to go on the offensive.

"Why are you going to the seventh floor? It's almost curfew."

Black paused, his lips pulling into a crooked smile. "Ah," he said, flinging his arms up behind his head. "A gentleman never tells."

For the first time, I took in his hair, which was even more rumpled than usual, and half-unbuttoned white shirt. Merlin. Had - had I been brewing potions whilst that - that - hormone explosion was occuring right next door?

I let out a long breath. Perhaps I needed to treat him like a five year old. "Congratulations," I said.

Dark and Hostile leaned towards me, dark eyes squinting in exaggerated scrutiny, and gasped, his hands snapping up to cover his chest protectively. "Are you - what are you thinking, Thorne? What a dirty mind you have! Merlin, woman, I only meant I was planting some dung bombs in the charms classroom."

Scratch that previous comment - I needed to treat him like a two year old, as apparently that was his maturity level. "Goodnight, Black."

I moved to pick up my bag, remembering only seconds too late that it was filled with almost a hundred filled glass vials.

"Oof," I grunted, doubling over under the weight. A pair of hands appeared by mine, and I scowled, trying to edge away from the Gryffindor.

"Don't be stubborn," Dark and Hostile said. "You're carrying at least two small children in there."

"Three," I said automatically and, seeing his delighted look, cringed. This was not the time for banter. It was so easy to forget that he was a Gryffindor and thus extremely dangerous.

Sure enough, another loud laugh careened through the staircase, as wild and unashamed as the man himself. "You have a sense of humour," he said, sounding insultingly surprised.

I tried wrenching the bag towards me, but his hands only tightened around it. "Let me help you," he said. He grinned again, and I looked away hurriedly, not wanting to get more flustered than I already was.

This was the second time he'd helped me this past week. I didn't trust him, and I didn't like him...but, it was dangerously close to curfew, and I couldn't risk getting caught with the vials. There was no way I was going to make it to the dungeons at my current pace.

"Fine," I allowed. "Move."

Black rolled his eyes but, thankfully, began edging down the staircase. The movement was awkward, considering he stood a full head above me, but together, we managed to maneuver the bag downstairs. The bag's weight had one benefit - the strain of carrying it down seven flights of stairs shut the Gryffindor up, which was good. It also made my arms feel like limp noodles, which was less good.

At the bottom of the seven flights, both Black and I paused for breath, folding over in varying degrees of fatigue. I tried lifting one of my arms experimentally and watched in mild horror as it flopped back down immediately. If I didn't know better, I would have said I was the victim of a bone-vanishing hex, but, alas, I was only woefully out of shape / possessed the strength of a newborn baby.

Yup, I definitely needed to begin working out.

Beside me, Dark and Hostile straightened, pushing his dark hair back from his face, and stretched. His bones cracked audibly, and he groaned. "Merlin, woman, what are you carrying?"

He paused, eyes widening, and added, "Did you steal a statue?"

He sounded a little too excited at the prospect. Wasn't Lupin a prefect? One would think he'd have knocked some rule-abiding sense into his friend by now. Of course, I certainly wasn't one for strictly adhering to the rules, but I only broke them when there was a tangible benefit to be had. Stealing a statue had no tangible benefits.

"Thanks," I bit out. "For the help."

His teeth gleamed in the dim light as he flashed another crooked smile. "That sounded like it hurt to say."

I shook out my arms, steeling myself for the final journey into the Slytherin common room, and said, "It was the worst pain imaginable. Goodbye."

Then, without waiting for a response, I half-kicked, half-rolled the bag through the stone archway. When I entered the common room, I handed the bag off to Evan Rosier, who was in charge of distributions, and made my way towards the girls' dormitories. Before I could escape, however, a hand pulled at my robes.

I flinched and turned, keeping my face carefully expressionless. Severus frowned at me and gestured at Rosier, who was levitating vials out of the bag with ill-concealed glee.

"How did you isolate the psychological effects from the physical? Did you begin with a base of Felix Felicis?"

I swallowed. This was what I'd - foolishly - hoped to avoid. If anyone could identify the secret ingredient in Euphoria #2, it was Severus Snape. The Slytherin eyed the hovering vials, his black eyes gleaming in the off-green light of the lanterns, and continued, "No, you can't have - Felix Felicis is far too expensive to brew in large quantities. You must have started anew."

Merlin, I was finding myself in far too many treacherous conversations these days. I'd have to be especially careful with Severus, though; he'd sniff out any potions-related lie far too easily. "I did not use Felix Felicis," I said.

"Hm," he said and, with a flick of his wrist, drew his wand.

Be still, Willa, I urged myself, watching with a mix of fear and jealousy as Severus redirected one of the floating vials to his waiting palm. He rolled it between his fingers and held it up to the lantern. Inside, the pale smoke swirled lazily, condensing and evaporating instantaneously.

"How interesting," he murmured. "You've managed to maintain a state in between air and liquid. Does the potion retain these characteristics outside of room temperature?"

Despite myself, I found myself warming to the subject. It wasn't often that I had the chance to discuss potions related ideas with anyone. I had Jasper, of course, but his specialty was in engineering physical prototypes rather than brewing potions.

"Yes," I said, feeling a flush of pride. "I've tested it up to two hundred degrees celsius, and it's maintained its properties so far. I haven't tested beyond that."

"What about cooling it?"

I shook my head. "I haven't had the chance yet."

Severus tapped the vial with his wand and said, "Glacius."

A wash of cold air spilled over the vial, and the glass frosted over from the sudden drop in temperature. Severus shook off the external frost and held the vial up again. We both squinted at the contents and, upon seeing the interior, exchanged looks.

The potion, which had once had the texture of a fine mist, had crystallized into wickedly sharp spikes. "Well," I said, struggling to keep my tone dry, "I suppose we won't be able to hide it in ice cream."

"No," Severus said, eyes still narrowed in thought, "I suppose we won't." He pocketed the vial and was gone before I had the chance to protest.

Bugger. I'd hoped he would return the vial to Rosier, but of course he'd want to analyse its contents - it's what I'd have wanted to do, had I been in his place. It would take even Severus some time to discover the secret ingredient, as no previous potion had utilized water from a wand. Still, it was only a matter of time before he figured it out.

I looked again at the Slytherin common room, so dark in the reserved light of the lanterns. Many old, very wealthy families were in Slytherin. If I pulled this off, I would secure an invaluable network of potential investors and customers.

If I didn't…

Well, Slytherin was also home to families willing to do just about anything to get their way, and if that way meant ridding the world of the Slytherin who had humiliated her house with an ill-advised attempt to make "happy fun Hufflepuffs," then that meant I was utterly and completely screwed.

Here's hoping that wouldn't be the case.

an: thanks all for reading! I loved reading your comments :)