Catatonic Zombie

Hogsmeade had never been my favourite place. I felt it didn't live up to the hype; I lacked the friends to enjoy Three Broomsticks fully and had no interest in clothes or Quidditch, which ruled out Gladrags Wizardwear and Spintwitches Sporting Needs. Hogsmeade was only valuable because it was home to Honeydukes, which sold Lucy's favoured chocolates, and even that was useless, now. Lucy still hadn't forgiven me, and I suspected Euphoria #2 was partly to blame for her continued anger. It made my stomach twist to know that my own sister was ingesting the potion unwittingly - a potion that had undergone no safety trials whatsoever, but what choice did I have? Surely, she would forgive me once this was all over. Surely, she would see that I'd had little choice, that I faced not only my classmates but the threat of those classmates' older, more sinister relatives. Surely.

Besides, I couldn't tell her the truth; she was my sister, but I was unsure whether that would mean she'd be comfortable letting her housemates be involuntarily subject to an entirely unapproved trial. Something told me she wouldn't be, so Lucy remained in the dark.

The only other shop I frequented was J. Pippin's Potions. I liked to keep an eye on my competitors, and they often stocked useful ingredients, anyway. So, I bypassed the throngs of chattering students clutching sweets or steaming mugs of pumpkin juice and made my way up the narrow cobblestone path leading to the shop. I paused at the dark green door, entering only when I was satisfied that no one was paying me any attention. Being unremarkable had its advantages; coasting by in my classes, playing the dull fool, meant no one watched me too closely. I was just another Slytherin, just another teenage girl, and I liked that.

The role fit me, for now. Of course, I'd be happy when I could release my products to the public, but that time hadn't come yet. I barely had enough funds to support my limited production now, and I had no set infrastructure for expanding beyond the subset of Hogwarts I targeted. To truly establish a company, I needed to secure a solicitor, which required galleons I did not have, and production agreements, which required galleons I did not have, and advertising, which, you guessed it, required galleons I did not have.

Sometimes, I envied my Slytherin classmates. Many - most - came from wealthy families. Old, respected families. Families who could call in favours, who could establish a factory in a day if needed.

I lacked those advantages. My mother was a Squib, and she was sure to be laughed out of any serious business discussion. I was hardly any better, magic-wise, and Lucy was a Hufflepuff. And my father - well, I had no idea who he was, but he was sure to be a muggle and, thus, useless. At least for my needs.

The bell above me announced my entrance as I pushed through the green wooden door. Inside, the air smelled heavily of knotgrass and fluxweed, and I breathed it in deeply. It was a strong smell, one that had inspired the creation of many odor-eliminating charms for the ordinary household, but any potioneer worth her salt felt at home in the stench.

Biggins, the elderly shopkeeper, gave me a cursory glance before returning to his paper. He was cranky and kept all social interactions to a minimum - in other words, he was my kind of person. I made my way past the brightly lit, central displays ("Miss Maxine's Fabulous Hair Detangler!" was, oddly, placed right next to "Boris's Instant Beard: for All Occasions"), winding my way through the sterile aisles. As a national chain, J. Pippin's Potions had all the standardised trappings of an established company - well-advertised prices, impersonal lighting, and mass-produced potions. On good days, I felt that their massive scale would be their downfall; consumers would see that the company's relentless spread into all areas meant their quality had fallen, that they'd prioritised scale over innovation. On bad days, I felt I could never compete with such an established name - why go for the unknown, "W" brand when you could go for the brand you've seen your neighbours and family members use for generations?

Interesting; they'd released a new line of love potions, all strictly weaker than Amortentia, of course, as that particular potion had a slew of bad press surrounding it. I took the closest bottle and turned it in my palm, ignoring the glowing hearts. Unlike Muggle pharmaceutical products, wizarding potions did not have to list all of their ingredients - only the particularly dangerous ones and even then, there was no mention of quantities involved. Here, the labeling only said, "Brewed with RARE pearl dust from the Arctic Sea for discrete, delayed effect!" I tipped the glass vial towards my nose, trying in vain to sniff out its contents, but it was sealed shut.

From the looks of the potion, it didn't look anything different from the standard love potion - certainly not worth its price tag of - here, I checked the paper slip, and my eyes widened - eighteen galleons. Merlin, that was expensive. Well. When I released my Essence of Aphrodite to the public, I'd be sure to make my prices more reasonable. Hopefully. I bit my lip, regarding the gleaming shelves neatly stocked with row after row of brightly coloured potion. J. Pippin's had the advantage of scale; they could cut deals with manufacturers to decrease their production costs, which meant they could sell their potions at lower prices than a smaller producer.

I wished Hogwarts had business courses; really, what good was learning how to transfigure a teacup into a rat? A rat wasn't going to pay my rent. In my palm, the vial seemed to gleam mockingly, and I scowled down at it. I was certain my potion was superior to this one...which, speaking of, I still hadn't heard from Meredith Thomas, the Gryffindor who'd ordered enough Essence of Aphrodite to keep a person bewitched for a full year. I supposed she must be satisfied with the product, which was good; hopefully, she'd put in a repeat order. I only wondered who she'd targeted with the potion; it would be hard to discern for outside viewers, as my potion worked subtly, gradually. It mimicked natural love almost perfectly, which, as Lucy put it, was ironic, as I'd never even been close to experiencing the emotion. There just hadn't been much time to think about dating anyone and, besides, I'd never been the type to be attracted to anyone on the spot. I had to get to know the person first, which was dangerous and thus not likely to occur.

"Willa!"

I started, ears burning red, as I turned. Lupin beamed at me, looking markedly improved; beside him, Black gave me a salute, but the gesture lacked malice.

"I thought I'd find you here," Lupin said. He gestured behind him, where the medicine potions were kept. "I'm hoping to find those headache potions; they were dead useful, but I can't seem to find them. Do you know where they're kept?"

Oops. I'd forgotten I'd told him that I'd purchased the migraine potions at J. Pippin's; I hadn't expected him to remember, much less follow through.

"Er," I said, struggling to think of a plausible lie.

Sirius's dark eyes landed on the potion - the love potion I realised with a silent curse - in my hands, and his mouth widened into a lopsided grin. "Looking to bewitch me, eh, Thorne?" he said, eyebrows wagging.

I was certain my whole face was red. Merlin, this was bad. Thankfully, Lupin merely rolled his eyes and said, "Don't be daft, Sirius. She doesn't need a potion to bewitch anyone."

There was a pause. Sirius's brow furrowed, and even Lupin looked a bit pink. I was sure he didn't mean it that way, but I was pretty sure I still choked. Or died. Or both. Either way, the vial dropped from my shaking hand and did what poor quality glass did upon hitting a hard surface - it shattered, splattering a shimmering pink liquid (how cliché, honestly) all over our robes.

Well, that wasn't good. We all looked at each other, expressions ranging from disbelief (Black) to horror (Lupin) to catatonic zombie (me).

"This potion doesn't seep through clothes, does it?" Black asked. His voice sounded half-strangled and higher than I'd ever heard it.

Lupin lifted the hem of his robes carefully. "You don't want to know the answer to that question," he said.

"Oi!" I heard Biggins shout from somewhere near the front of the store. While the old man had perfected the art of ignoring an "Excuse me? Where is the-", he'd certainly not lost his ability to identify the sound of a broken potion.

The elderly shopkeeper came running towards us, skidding to a halt when he saw the sparkling mess in the aisle. "Rascals!" he spat. "Hooligans!"

"Sorry, sir," Lupin said. He glanced at me worriedly - but without any visible affection, to my great relief. The potion hadn't taken effect yet; the pearl dust, it seemed, must actually have been high quality, as anything less than pure, saltwater pearls would have made for an immediate reaction. Perhaps I had given J. Pippin's too little credit. As advertised, their potion was, in fact, delayed. Or maybe it didn't work at all! That would be wonderful. And unlikely.

Maybe I should say something; Lupin kept looking at me like he feared I was going to scream. Or cry. Maybe both. Both were possibilities, if I'd been Lucy. Instead, I shook myself awake - Merlin, I was a Slytherin, not some bumbling fool - and turned to Biggins. "My apologies," I said, fighting to keep my voice level. I withdrew eighteen galleons from my pocket, suppressing a wince as I handed the golden coins over to the man. Well, there went my entire research and development funds. Thankfully, I still had some potions ready to sell, but the recent Euphoria #2 brewing had drained my ingredients store, and it wasn't like anyone was paying me for Euphoria #2.

Black was muttering to himself - something about being too young to be chained to anyone. Right. Funds were not my immediate concern here. I needed to get an antidote. I stooped, trying not to panic (how long had it been? How long was delayed, anyway?), and cursed when I failed to find the antidotes in their usual spot.

"Biggins," I demanded. "Where are the antidotes?"

He sniffed. "We're out," he said. "Some teenager came in with her mum earlier this morning - a failed attempt at ensnaring her whole neighbourhood, apparently. The silly child got caught, and her mum made her buy out the whole stock of antidotes, poor thing." The glint in his beady eyes told me he didn't feel sorry at all; he was probably glad for the added revenue. Under ordinary circumstances, I wouldn't blame him, but now, when I was this close to being in an excruciatingly uncomfortable situation with the two worst people possible?

I glanced at the two Gryffindors; their heads were huddled close together, and they were whispering something. I did a quick mental check; nope, I still felt nothing more than mild irritation. No warmth, no love, thank Merlin.

I did have my Essence of Aphrodite antidote, but I'd left that in my trunk back at Hogwarts. I supposed a bezoar could do the trick, but those were bloody expensive and I'd just cleaned out the last of my coffers. I cast an appraising eye at the arguing duo behind me; Lupin's clothes, while clean, looked well worn, and, from what I'd heard, Black was hardly on good terms with his family. So, they were useless. I was sure I could intimidate Biggins into lending one to us, as I'd made sure to seek out his secrets before stepping foot in the shop. He had an illegitimate daughter living in Australia, and he sent funds to her without his wife knowing. I'd never brought it up, as secrets, once spent, were as valuable as a mouldy loaf of bread, and I was loathe to waste it now.

I looked again at the two boys. They hadn't seen this side of me yet - the ruthless side. Logically, I knew getting the bezoar was worth it, but, somehow, I didn't want to break the fragile...not camaraderie, exactly, but truce between us. Merlin.

Lupin was pointing angrily at Black - probably dissuading him from some inane scheme. He looked so nice, standing there. His eyelashes were so long, and his hair looked so soft. He was a pretty man, and -

Good god. Okay, it was worth it. I wrenched my eyes away from the Gryffindor, cheeks burning, and turned to Biggins - only, the man wasn't there anymore, and why had I wanted to get rid of this feeling, anyway? Love was wonderful.

I spun back towards the two beautiful boys and flung my arms around them.

"Uh-" Sirius said. He patted my back awkwardly. Oops. I suppose I'd been a bit too forceful. I leaned back, beaming at them. They exchanged nervous looks - right. They were both larger than I was, so they weren't experiencing the potion's benefits yet. But they would! Soon. Soon, soon, soon.

I sighed dreamily, leaning against Remus - sweet, clever Remus. "You're so pretty," I said, and his cheeks went red. I reached up, and he went perfectly still. This close, I could see that his eyes were more yellow than green - how positively delightful! I'd never seen eyes like his before. "Like a pumpkin loaf," I finished, tapping his nose. He blinked. Beside him, Sirius guffawed. "Hear that, Moony? You're as beautiful as a freshly baked pastry!"

Remus was so red, now. It was endearing. He was so kind, too; I'd seen him help younger students around the castle, and yes, that was part of his responsibilities as a Prefect but, oh, he'd looked so nice doing it. "Okay, Willa," he said, trying to dislodge my grip.

I held fast; I'd always been strong. Or, at least, determined, and that made up for any physical weakness. I wanted to kiss him. I leaned up, wrapping my arms around his neck -

"Oi!" came Biggins again. He swatted at me with his paper. "Take it outside." I saw Remus swallow; he was avoiding my eyes. With Sirius's aid, he guided me towards the exit. This was all Biggins's fault - the hateful man! How dare he stand in the way of love?

Once we'd left the shop, I sighed. When that didn't elicit the sympathetic response I was hoping for, I tried again: "SIGH."

Sirius looked at me. "Saying 'sigh' doesn't actually mean you're sighing, you know," he said. Then he paused. Stared at me. And I saw the shift - his dark brows furrowed, and his head tilted, and standing there, with the setting sun casting him in gold, I felt I could marry him. At last, he was feeling the potion's effects and he could join me in experiencing the joy!

"You have knotgrass in your hair," he said, and the moment was gone. My smile faltered, but only for a second. It was odd that he wasn't experiencing the potion at all, but at least I had Remus - wonderful, wonderful Remus.

I turned to the boy and he, at least, seemed to be more amenable than Sirius. He looked at me with such affection, such warmth, such -

I swallowed. I'd never been looked at in this way, like I was the only person in his world. Like I was the only thing he wanted. "Willa," Remus breathed, and I felt a thrill travel down my spine.

I stepped closer. His hand curved around my cheek, his fingertips tracing the length of my jaw. I felt like burning. I felt brave.

"Remus," I said, and his eyes widened. I pulled him towards me, my mouth tilting towards his -

"Oh, for the love of Merlin," I dimly heard Sirius say. He wrenched us apart and, with an unceremonial flick of his wand, sprayed us both with water. "Down!" he commanded.

I spluttered. If I didn't love him, I'd hit him with my most painful corrosive potion. Beside me, Remus must have been thinking the same, for his hand kept clenching and unclenching around his wand. Sirius seemed to find this immensely funny, as he laughed again.

He raised his wand again, and I snatched it from his hand. "Love has its limits!" I warned, brandishing it. I could always hit him with a minor stinging potion. It would be painful but not permanently scarring. A kindness, really.

Sirius blinked. "Interesting," he observed, his tone mild. "You're just as antagonistic to the ones you love."

Something about that made my stomach clench - and, bizarrely, I thought of Lucy. The thought of my sister was like cold water - or, more specifically, witch water, which made me think of Euphoria #2 and all the things I was doing to my sister. Merlin, I was a terrible person.

Already, I could feel the dull haze of the potion tugging at the seams of my vision, urging me to drop my barbed armor and turn instead to hugs and kisses. I shook the thought off. "Black," I snapped, and, thankfully, he quieted.

"We need a bezoar," I said quickly, and Sirius cursed. "A bezoar? Those cost as much as a broomstick!"

Beside me, Remus was doing some horribly distracting things; he'd wrapped his arm around my waist, and his head dipped to the curve of my neck. I sucked in a sharp breath, digging my nails into my palms, and willed myself to think. "We need an antidote - a love potion antidote. I have one in my dorm, but there's no way you can get past the Slytherin common room."

Sirius brightened. "No," he said. "But I know someone who can."

Author note: this is all so terribly self-indulgent and fun to write - thank you all for putting up with these antics and thank you so much to everyone who's commented! please drop a note - all reviewers will get a teaser of the next chapter ;)