Author's Note: I always try to come of with some incredibly witty chapter title, but I seem to have expended all of my creative energies writing this latest chapter. So as you can see, I have named this chapter:
Love Potion No. 9 ¾
Chapter 13: Bob
Sango-sama
Say hi, Bob!
Bob: "Hi Bob!"
::Sigh:: I'll rename it later.
Anyways, after I post this (past tense for all of you) I'm going to try and write another chapter on a piece in another fandom (Inu-Yasha) that I've been ignoring since about May. I've gotten enough complaints about the fact that it isn't finished, that I think I should do a little something to tide them over…It'll take a bit so the next chapter will be up in a few days.
Dedication: To all my family who are now reading this story, but mostly to my Aunt who checks far too often for an update. And is reviewing! ::waves::
Disclaimer: I don't own either Harry Potter or Love Potion No. 9. Seems awfully silly repeating myself twelve times, but hey…rules are rules.
************************************************************************
There were a number of things in life that Ron could count on-second hand robes and books for school, his mother's bone dry corned beef sandwiches, torment from his older brothers, and his spot on the stage just outside of the spotlight.
He was, after all, a middle child in a large family. He was friend to perhaps one of the most brilliant students to ever attend Hogwarts. He was friend to the Boy Who Lived. He was always the first to be glanced over; he was surely used to it-but that didn't mean he had to be happy about it.
On those rare occasions when his temper caught up with him and it seemed that he could take it no longer, he would silently curse his whole life, down to the very last maroon Weasley sweater, secretly wishing for the attention it seemed everyone around him had been granted without a second thought.
But now this rather unexpected turn of events had turned Ron's whole grasp of his situation upside down. He had more female attention than he could handle. No amount of instinctive Weasley male charm could bring him through this wholly unscathed.
So he did the only thing he could think of. He bolted.
Ran straight from the very spotlight he had secretly hoped for all of these many years.
The fates certainly had a sick sense of humor.
And they surely would have been chuckling at him as he folded his long legs under his lanky body to squeeze himself inside a garbage can.
"Oh…sod it," he murmured under his breath, quietly pulling the metal lid down on top of the can just as a mob of girls wandered past the slim alleyway.
"Ro-on!" one cooed. "Come out, come out where ever you are…"
A sliver of light peeped into the dark can where the metal had been split, shooting a stream of white onto the other side of the metal can just above his shoulder. He clutched his knees tighter to his body, ducking out of the light.
It was beginning to remind him of one of the pictures of muggle prison cells he had seen in one of Bill's book years before. But if it could keep that mob away from him, they could lock him up and throw away the key.
His nose scrunched up. 'Well…if it wasn't for the smell anyways.' He waved his hand in front of his face, fanning the smell away with little result. Frowning, he pinched his nose shut, leaning his back against the thin metal wall.
Suddenly, he froze; he heard the lid scraping against the can.
He bit his lip, trying to duck further down into the darkness, but only able to tuck his head on the tops of his knees.
"Well. Hello down there," the voice came from above. A male voice. A familiar male voice.
Ron slowly looked up into Harry's eyes. "Are they gone?"
"Mostly." Harry rolled his eyes, cracking a small smile. "The Ron Weasley Fan Club has temporarily been dismissed to return to Hogwarts."
Sighing in relief, Ron stood up, stretching his arms above his head and lifting one leg out of out of the trash can.
Harry turned his head as another group of girls ran giggling past. Ron dove back into the garbage can.
Harry sniggered at sight. "Do you want to take that with you? You probably need it as there are girls at Hogwarts."
Ron scowled. "Oh, shut up, Harry!"
**********************************************************************
"Blimey! George…did you set off a dungbomb without me?" Fred asked his brother, waving his hand in front of his face.
"Ha ha. Very funny, Fred." Ron grumbled dryly.
George grinned at his younger brother, who was slumping down into his seat away from the door. Harry was walking up the side steps to the seat beside Ron. "So, Ron, we've heard you've become quite popular with the young ladies."
Ron's head dropped into his hands, slumping down further into the seat. "Bloody hell!" he moaned.
"Oh!" Fred exclaimed, his voice raising into an exaggerated falsetto, primly dabbing an invisible handkerchief to the corners of his eyes. "They do grow up so fast."
Harry snorted into his hand, which had been concealing the rather large grin that quirked his lips.
"Bout time your bit of good old Weasley charm kicked in, really," George quipped. "You really had us worried that Percy wouldn't be the only Weasley male without it."
Even Ron had to grin at that.
**********************************************************************
The thick volume of Most Potente Potions sat atop a large wall of books. The portly figures of Crabbe and Goyle had fallen asleep in their chairs. A thin trail of drool was sliding from the corner of Crabbe's lips and Goyle had begun to snore loudly. They all had been poring over books from the library since they had returned from Hogsmeade that afternoon.
A foot sailed swiftly beneath the table, kicking Goyle soundly in the shin. He stirred briefly, still asleep and snoring much more quietly.
The foot set back on the floor, lightly tapping as its owner ran his finger through the index of a particularly thick volume. His finger slowed as it came upon the word 'philters'. The pages fanned open
Love potions, often called philters, are usually either a draught or charm to incite in another the passion of love. Their use consequently made the drinker fall in love with the one who gave it to them. They have long been present in magical and even muggle societies, its recorded use dating as far back as the Ancient Greek and Roman civilizations. These ancient versions contained blood and pulverized bones, often making the drinker quite ill, in addition to its normal effects. The use became so widespread at the time and people fell so ill from drinking them that their use was decreed illegal.
A menacing smile fell upon Draco's closed lips. 'Illegal, huh?'
Newer versions of such potion have been developed which have a higher herbological basis, but many institutions still ban its use, including schools and Ministry offices.
He sneered, closing the book on his lap. 'You and your friends can say goodbye to Hogwarts, Potter.'
************************************************************************
Confused? Well, I promise I am going somewhere with this…hold on, please! ^_^
Thanks to reviewers: Tiger Lily, star bunny, Phoebe1912, Arya, Lil Sarcasm, and the usual cast of reviewers! And to Squin and Lady Norbert, thanks for letting me join the Plot Bunnies! ^_^
Love Potion No. 9 ¾
Chapter 13: Bob
Sango-sama
Say hi, Bob!
Bob: "Hi Bob!"
::Sigh:: I'll rename it later.
Anyways, after I post this (past tense for all of you) I'm going to try and write another chapter on a piece in another fandom (Inu-Yasha) that I've been ignoring since about May. I've gotten enough complaints about the fact that it isn't finished, that I think I should do a little something to tide them over…It'll take a bit so the next chapter will be up in a few days.
Dedication: To all my family who are now reading this story, but mostly to my Aunt who checks far too often for an update. And is reviewing! ::waves::
Disclaimer: I don't own either Harry Potter or Love Potion No. 9. Seems awfully silly repeating myself twelve times, but hey…rules are rules.
************************************************************************
There were a number of things in life that Ron could count on-second hand robes and books for school, his mother's bone dry corned beef sandwiches, torment from his older brothers, and his spot on the stage just outside of the spotlight.
He was, after all, a middle child in a large family. He was friend to perhaps one of the most brilliant students to ever attend Hogwarts. He was friend to the Boy Who Lived. He was always the first to be glanced over; he was surely used to it-but that didn't mean he had to be happy about it.
On those rare occasions when his temper caught up with him and it seemed that he could take it no longer, he would silently curse his whole life, down to the very last maroon Weasley sweater, secretly wishing for the attention it seemed everyone around him had been granted without a second thought.
But now this rather unexpected turn of events had turned Ron's whole grasp of his situation upside down. He had more female attention than he could handle. No amount of instinctive Weasley male charm could bring him through this wholly unscathed.
So he did the only thing he could think of. He bolted.
Ran straight from the very spotlight he had secretly hoped for all of these many years.
The fates certainly had a sick sense of humor.
And they surely would have been chuckling at him as he folded his long legs under his lanky body to squeeze himself inside a garbage can.
"Oh…sod it," he murmured under his breath, quietly pulling the metal lid down on top of the can just as a mob of girls wandered past the slim alleyway.
"Ro-on!" one cooed. "Come out, come out where ever you are…"
A sliver of light peeped into the dark can where the metal had been split, shooting a stream of white onto the other side of the metal can just above his shoulder. He clutched his knees tighter to his body, ducking out of the light.
It was beginning to remind him of one of the pictures of muggle prison cells he had seen in one of Bill's book years before. But if it could keep that mob away from him, they could lock him up and throw away the key.
His nose scrunched up. 'Well…if it wasn't for the smell anyways.' He waved his hand in front of his face, fanning the smell away with little result. Frowning, he pinched his nose shut, leaning his back against the thin metal wall.
Suddenly, he froze; he heard the lid scraping against the can.
He bit his lip, trying to duck further down into the darkness, but only able to tuck his head on the tops of his knees.
"Well. Hello down there," the voice came from above. A male voice. A familiar male voice.
Ron slowly looked up into Harry's eyes. "Are they gone?"
"Mostly." Harry rolled his eyes, cracking a small smile. "The Ron Weasley Fan Club has temporarily been dismissed to return to Hogwarts."
Sighing in relief, Ron stood up, stretching his arms above his head and lifting one leg out of out of the trash can.
Harry turned his head as another group of girls ran giggling past. Ron dove back into the garbage can.
Harry sniggered at sight. "Do you want to take that with you? You probably need it as there are girls at Hogwarts."
Ron scowled. "Oh, shut up, Harry!"
**********************************************************************
"Blimey! George…did you set off a dungbomb without me?" Fred asked his brother, waving his hand in front of his face.
"Ha ha. Very funny, Fred." Ron grumbled dryly.
George grinned at his younger brother, who was slumping down into his seat away from the door. Harry was walking up the side steps to the seat beside Ron. "So, Ron, we've heard you've become quite popular with the young ladies."
Ron's head dropped into his hands, slumping down further into the seat. "Bloody hell!" he moaned.
"Oh!" Fred exclaimed, his voice raising into an exaggerated falsetto, primly dabbing an invisible handkerchief to the corners of his eyes. "They do grow up so fast."
Harry snorted into his hand, which had been concealing the rather large grin that quirked his lips.
"Bout time your bit of good old Weasley charm kicked in, really," George quipped. "You really had us worried that Percy wouldn't be the only Weasley male without it."
Even Ron had to grin at that.
**********************************************************************
The thick volume of Most Potente Potions sat atop a large wall of books. The portly figures of Crabbe and Goyle had fallen asleep in their chairs. A thin trail of drool was sliding from the corner of Crabbe's lips and Goyle had begun to snore loudly. They all had been poring over books from the library since they had returned from Hogsmeade that afternoon.
A foot sailed swiftly beneath the table, kicking Goyle soundly in the shin. He stirred briefly, still asleep and snoring much more quietly.
The foot set back on the floor, lightly tapping as its owner ran his finger through the index of a particularly thick volume. His finger slowed as it came upon the word 'philters'. The pages fanned open
Love potions, often called philters, are usually either a draught or charm to incite in another the passion of love. Their use consequently made the drinker fall in love with the one who gave it to them. They have long been present in magical and even muggle societies, its recorded use dating as far back as the Ancient Greek and Roman civilizations. These ancient versions contained blood and pulverized bones, often making the drinker quite ill, in addition to its normal effects. The use became so widespread at the time and people fell so ill from drinking them that their use was decreed illegal.
A menacing smile fell upon Draco's closed lips. 'Illegal, huh?'
Newer versions of such potion have been developed which have a higher herbological basis, but many institutions still ban its use, including schools and Ministry offices.
He sneered, closing the book on his lap. 'You and your friends can say goodbye to Hogwarts, Potter.'
************************************************************************
Confused? Well, I promise I am going somewhere with this…hold on, please! ^_^
Thanks to reviewers: Tiger Lily, star bunny, Phoebe1912, Arya, Lil Sarcasm, and the usual cast of reviewers! And to Squin and Lady Norbert, thanks for letting me join the Plot Bunnies! ^_^
