Title: Brewing Trouble
Rating: PG-13 (for mild language and mature themes)
Summary: Ron decides a love potion is the only way to make Hermione fall for him, and mayhem ensues when the effects of the potion go awry.
Disclaimer: The plot of this story is mine, but everything else belongs to JK Rowling. Please review - I really appreciate feedback!
Thanks to Sandi, Miss Bea Granger, and Missbean for the feedback and the suggestions regarding the format. Hope this is a little easier to read! : )
Chapter 2 - Trouble Is Brewing
The next morning, the two boys awoke, hurriedly dressed, and scooted down to the Great Hall for a quick bite before rushing off to scour the books in the library for a recipe for a love potion. They arrived at the library at 8 o'clock, panting and red-faced.
"This had better be worth it," Harry grumbled, brushing some toast crumbs off the front of his robe, "Quidditch practice is supposed to start today, and I'm missing it."
"It will all pay off in the long run," Ron said, plunking himself down at a table next to a shelf of books. "Is there anyone that you want to give the potion to?"
Harry shook his head. "After what happened during the Triwizard Tournament last year, I don't think Cho is looking for a boyfriend anytime soon - and especially not me." He sighed. "I'll just help you. Come on, then."
They each gathered an armful of books from various parts of the library and returned to the table to search. Their efforts were fruitless for quite a while until Harry stumbled upon a small book with a pink cover and gold binding.
"'Love's Labors Lessened,'" he read, "'Make yourself more attractive to the opposite sex with an Enticing Enchantment'...here it is, Ron! 'Make that special someone fall wand over feet in love with you!'"
"That sounds perfect!" Ron exclaimed, flipping open the book. He scooted his chair next to Harry's and they looked over the ingredients of the potion. "Frozen Ashwinder eggs - I'll bet Hagrid'd have some of those - crushed ginger root, armadillo bile - we've got both of those - dried nettles - easy to find...this potion doesn't sound terribly difficult, Harry."
"You're right," Harry agreed. "'Simmer over a low flame for thirty minutes and drain the dregs, bring to a rolling bubble, skim off the foam, and bottle.' We'll be able to do this, easy."
"What are we waiting for, then?" Ron asked, slamming the book shut. He stuck it inside his robes and followed Harry out of the library, running smack into -
"Hermione," Ron breathed. Although classes hadn't begun, she already had a stack of books in one arm and some scrolls of parchment in the other. Her cheeks were flushed from her heavy load, and she regarded the boys quizzically.
"What are you doing in the library?" she demanded, pursing her lips.
"We were...researching." Ron said.
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Researching?" she sniffed. "You two never do research."
"Well, we do now," Harry said quickly, grabbing Ron's sleeve, "Good-bye, Hermione!" He pulled Ron down the hall, leaving Hermione shaking her head, and they quickly ducked into the nearest stairwell.
"That was close!" Ron breathed.
"Maybe if you were a better liar..." Harry laughed. "Researching?"
"It was all I could think of," Ron replied weakly. After catching their breath, the boys split apart. Ron went back to Gryffendor House to gather the ingredients he had in his potions set, and Harry stopped by Hagrid's cottage to see if he had any Ashwinder eggs. Both boys were successful in their scavenging, and they met in the bathroom where their illicit potion making began - Moaning Myrtle's.
"I've got my cauldron," Ron panted. He put his potion set on the floor and filled the cauldron with water. He plopped down next to his things and opened the pink book.
"'Eight Ashwinder eggs, frozen' - better make that four if we're going for like instead of love," he said. Harry nodded and dropped four of the frozen eggs into the cauldron.
"'Three medium-sized ginger roots, crushed,'" Ron continued. He shoved the roots over to Harry, who proceeded to chop and crush them. He sprinkled them around the eggs. "'Two cupfuls of armadillo bile.'" He filled two half-cups with the bile and poured them into the cauldron. The eggs hissed.
"'Two handfuls of dried nettles' - well that's rather subjective, don't you think?" Ron said indignantly. He picked up the flask of nettles that Harry collected on his way to Hagrid's cottage and after looking at them for a moment or two, sprinkled some into the cauldron.
"Incendio!" Harry aimed his wand, and a small cluster of flames popped up on the countertop beside the sinks.
"Wingardium leviosa!" Ron levitated the cauldron over the flames and sat back, shoving his wand into his pocket. "Now, we wait."
The potion had been simmering for a little over a quarter of an hour when, down from the roof, swooped Myrtle.
"What are we doing, then?" she shrieked, the tip of her nose inches from Harry, who recoiled and nearly fell over the closed potion book. Myrtle glanced down, and her eyes lit up - as much as the eyes of a ghost could light up. "Making a naughty potion?" she squealed. "Trouble is brewing, I can smell it! I bet you're going to get caught!"
"We're not going to get caught- not if you shut your big mouth!" Ron hissed. He immediately regretted his words as Myrtle screwed up her pimpled face and began to wail.
"HOW COULD YOU TELL ME THAT?" Myrtle howled.
"Myrtle, I'm sorry!" Ron cried.
"How about I just go back to my toilet and never, ever talk to you again? Then you'll be sorry! Then you'll wish you hadn't called me a big-mouth!" With one last screech, Myrtle dove into her toilet, sending water splashing everywhere. It didn't put out the flame, however, and Ron breathed a sigh of relief as Harry peered into the cauldron.
"I think it's ready, Ron," he said. Ron pulled a little spoon out of his robes and scooped out the lees at the bottom of the cauldron and dropped them into the sink. He magicked the cauldron back over the flames, and settled against the wall again.
"Be careful not to let it get too hot, Ron," said Harry, consulting the book. "If we let it boil for too long, it says it will 'retain its original potency regardless of any ingredient changes.'"
When the reddish liquid began to bubble, Ron grabbed a stirring rod and skimmed off the thick white foam. He pulled small glass flask from his potion set, ladled some of the potion into it, plugged it with a cork, and slipped it into the pocket of his robes.
"Now," said Ron, "We pay a visit to the kitchen."
When they arrived ten minutes later in the broad, bright corridor that was the route to Hogwarts' kitchen, Harry turned to Ron.
"Are you positive about this?" He asked, running a hand through his tussled hair.
"Of course I am!" Ron exclaimed, "We've come this far, haven't we?"
"I know..." Harry trailed off. "What if it doesn't work? Or what if something terrible happens and Hermione gets really sick? We'd be responsible - and we'd have to own up to what we did. Besides that fact that potions like this are against the rules, can you imagine Hermione's reaction?"
"I'm usually the one with cold feet!" Ron laughed, putting his hand on his friend's shoulder. "Everything will work out fine, Harry, I'm sure of it. Now, come on before someone catches us down here." He reached out his right hand and tickled a large green pear that was painted comfortably in a silver fruit bowl. The pear began to squirm and jump and abruptly morphed into a door handle, which Ron twisted.
As they walked into the brightly lit, high-ceilinged kitchen, a small, skinny creature leapt out from behind a large copper pot and fell upon their necks, squealing excitedly.
"Hello sirs! Hello sirs!"
"Dobby!" Harry cried happily. Despite the odd little creature's annoying voice and nerve-wearing enthusiasm, Harry was rather fond of him - and the feeling was mutual.
"Dobby is so happy to see you, Harry Potter, sir! And you, Wheezy, sir!" Dobby squealed, attaching himself to Ron's leg.
Ron reached down and awkwardly patted Dobby on the head. "We've got a favor to ask you, Dobby," he said.
Dobby pulled back at stared up at Ron with his large, watery eyes. "Dobby is thrilled to do anything Wheezy asks of Dobby."
"This is very important, Dobby," Ron said gravely, "And we need you to listen very carefully - and more importantly, don't tell anyone."
"Dobby won't tell no one, Wheezy!" Dobby swore, placing his spindly fingers on his purple and red plaid sweater that was, of course, two sizes too large.
Ron crouched down so he was face to face with Dobby and pulled out the flask. "We need you to sneak a little bit of this into a certain person's pumpkin juice tonight, Dobby."
Dobby clasped his hands, obviously overjoyed that the boys had come to him for this very important deed. "Dobby will do whatever Wheezy and Harry Potter need him to do, sirs!"
"Pour a bit, just a bit, into a goblet of pumpkin juice tonight, Dobby, and be sure that Hermione Granger gets it, all right?" Harry said, crouching down beside Ron.
"Miss Hermione, sirs? Dobby remembers Miss Hermione well!" Dobby cried. "Dobby will be glad to give Miss Hermione a special treat."
"Mind not to pour too much in, Dobby," Ron added, "The book said that an overdose could lead to stupor or aggressive behavior."
"You didn't read me that part!" Harry exclaimed. "Aggressive behavior?"
"If Dobby gives Hermione the proper dose, there's no need to worry," Ron said firmly. You've got it down?" he asked Dobby, rising.
"Dobby puts a few drops of Wheezy's special treat in Miss Hermione's pumpkin juice," Dobby reiterated, comfortingly patting Ron's knee. "Dobby understands, sirs. Now, would the sirs like some tea?"
"Sure!" Ron said eagerly. In less than a minute, he and Harry were settled on two low stools next to the fireplace with mugs of steaming tea and a huge plate of crumbly pastries between them. In between bites, Ron turned to Harry and whispered, "You're sure Dobby will be able carry this off?"
"If there's anything Dobby hates, it's letting people down," Harry said confidently. "Ron, by tonight, you'll be staring into Hermione's pretty eyes instead Dobby's...bulgy ones." He and Ron burst into laughter, but as Ron reached for another biscuit, he thought to himself: and it will be the best feeling in the world!
Rating: PG-13 (for mild language and mature themes)
Summary: Ron decides a love potion is the only way to make Hermione fall for him, and mayhem ensues when the effects of the potion go awry.
Disclaimer: The plot of this story is mine, but everything else belongs to JK Rowling. Please review - I really appreciate feedback!
Thanks to Sandi, Miss Bea Granger, and Missbean for the feedback and the suggestions regarding the format. Hope this is a little easier to read! : )
Chapter 2 - Trouble Is Brewing
The next morning, the two boys awoke, hurriedly dressed, and scooted down to the Great Hall for a quick bite before rushing off to scour the books in the library for a recipe for a love potion. They arrived at the library at 8 o'clock, panting and red-faced.
"This had better be worth it," Harry grumbled, brushing some toast crumbs off the front of his robe, "Quidditch practice is supposed to start today, and I'm missing it."
"It will all pay off in the long run," Ron said, plunking himself down at a table next to a shelf of books. "Is there anyone that you want to give the potion to?"
Harry shook his head. "After what happened during the Triwizard Tournament last year, I don't think Cho is looking for a boyfriend anytime soon - and especially not me." He sighed. "I'll just help you. Come on, then."
They each gathered an armful of books from various parts of the library and returned to the table to search. Their efforts were fruitless for quite a while until Harry stumbled upon a small book with a pink cover and gold binding.
"'Love's Labors Lessened,'" he read, "'Make yourself more attractive to the opposite sex with an Enticing Enchantment'...here it is, Ron! 'Make that special someone fall wand over feet in love with you!'"
"That sounds perfect!" Ron exclaimed, flipping open the book. He scooted his chair next to Harry's and they looked over the ingredients of the potion. "Frozen Ashwinder eggs - I'll bet Hagrid'd have some of those - crushed ginger root, armadillo bile - we've got both of those - dried nettles - easy to find...this potion doesn't sound terribly difficult, Harry."
"You're right," Harry agreed. "'Simmer over a low flame for thirty minutes and drain the dregs, bring to a rolling bubble, skim off the foam, and bottle.' We'll be able to do this, easy."
"What are we waiting for, then?" Ron asked, slamming the book shut. He stuck it inside his robes and followed Harry out of the library, running smack into -
"Hermione," Ron breathed. Although classes hadn't begun, she already had a stack of books in one arm and some scrolls of parchment in the other. Her cheeks were flushed from her heavy load, and she regarded the boys quizzically.
"What are you doing in the library?" she demanded, pursing her lips.
"We were...researching." Ron said.
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Researching?" she sniffed. "You two never do research."
"Well, we do now," Harry said quickly, grabbing Ron's sleeve, "Good-bye, Hermione!" He pulled Ron down the hall, leaving Hermione shaking her head, and they quickly ducked into the nearest stairwell.
"That was close!" Ron breathed.
"Maybe if you were a better liar..." Harry laughed. "Researching?"
"It was all I could think of," Ron replied weakly. After catching their breath, the boys split apart. Ron went back to Gryffendor House to gather the ingredients he had in his potions set, and Harry stopped by Hagrid's cottage to see if he had any Ashwinder eggs. Both boys were successful in their scavenging, and they met in the bathroom where their illicit potion making began - Moaning Myrtle's.
"I've got my cauldron," Ron panted. He put his potion set on the floor and filled the cauldron with water. He plopped down next to his things and opened the pink book.
"'Eight Ashwinder eggs, frozen' - better make that four if we're going for like instead of love," he said. Harry nodded and dropped four of the frozen eggs into the cauldron.
"'Three medium-sized ginger roots, crushed,'" Ron continued. He shoved the roots over to Harry, who proceeded to chop and crush them. He sprinkled them around the eggs. "'Two cupfuls of armadillo bile.'" He filled two half-cups with the bile and poured them into the cauldron. The eggs hissed.
"'Two handfuls of dried nettles' - well that's rather subjective, don't you think?" Ron said indignantly. He picked up the flask of nettles that Harry collected on his way to Hagrid's cottage and after looking at them for a moment or two, sprinkled some into the cauldron.
"Incendio!" Harry aimed his wand, and a small cluster of flames popped up on the countertop beside the sinks.
"Wingardium leviosa!" Ron levitated the cauldron over the flames and sat back, shoving his wand into his pocket. "Now, we wait."
The potion had been simmering for a little over a quarter of an hour when, down from the roof, swooped Myrtle.
"What are we doing, then?" she shrieked, the tip of her nose inches from Harry, who recoiled and nearly fell over the closed potion book. Myrtle glanced down, and her eyes lit up - as much as the eyes of a ghost could light up. "Making a naughty potion?" she squealed. "Trouble is brewing, I can smell it! I bet you're going to get caught!"
"We're not going to get caught- not if you shut your big mouth!" Ron hissed. He immediately regretted his words as Myrtle screwed up her pimpled face and began to wail.
"HOW COULD YOU TELL ME THAT?" Myrtle howled.
"Myrtle, I'm sorry!" Ron cried.
"How about I just go back to my toilet and never, ever talk to you again? Then you'll be sorry! Then you'll wish you hadn't called me a big-mouth!" With one last screech, Myrtle dove into her toilet, sending water splashing everywhere. It didn't put out the flame, however, and Ron breathed a sigh of relief as Harry peered into the cauldron.
"I think it's ready, Ron," he said. Ron pulled a little spoon out of his robes and scooped out the lees at the bottom of the cauldron and dropped them into the sink. He magicked the cauldron back over the flames, and settled against the wall again.
"Be careful not to let it get too hot, Ron," said Harry, consulting the book. "If we let it boil for too long, it says it will 'retain its original potency regardless of any ingredient changes.'"
When the reddish liquid began to bubble, Ron grabbed a stirring rod and skimmed off the thick white foam. He pulled small glass flask from his potion set, ladled some of the potion into it, plugged it with a cork, and slipped it into the pocket of his robes.
"Now," said Ron, "We pay a visit to the kitchen."
When they arrived ten minutes later in the broad, bright corridor that was the route to Hogwarts' kitchen, Harry turned to Ron.
"Are you positive about this?" He asked, running a hand through his tussled hair.
"Of course I am!" Ron exclaimed, "We've come this far, haven't we?"
"I know..." Harry trailed off. "What if it doesn't work? Or what if something terrible happens and Hermione gets really sick? We'd be responsible - and we'd have to own up to what we did. Besides that fact that potions like this are against the rules, can you imagine Hermione's reaction?"
"I'm usually the one with cold feet!" Ron laughed, putting his hand on his friend's shoulder. "Everything will work out fine, Harry, I'm sure of it. Now, come on before someone catches us down here." He reached out his right hand and tickled a large green pear that was painted comfortably in a silver fruit bowl. The pear began to squirm and jump and abruptly morphed into a door handle, which Ron twisted.
As they walked into the brightly lit, high-ceilinged kitchen, a small, skinny creature leapt out from behind a large copper pot and fell upon their necks, squealing excitedly.
"Hello sirs! Hello sirs!"
"Dobby!" Harry cried happily. Despite the odd little creature's annoying voice and nerve-wearing enthusiasm, Harry was rather fond of him - and the feeling was mutual.
"Dobby is so happy to see you, Harry Potter, sir! And you, Wheezy, sir!" Dobby squealed, attaching himself to Ron's leg.
Ron reached down and awkwardly patted Dobby on the head. "We've got a favor to ask you, Dobby," he said.
Dobby pulled back at stared up at Ron with his large, watery eyes. "Dobby is thrilled to do anything Wheezy asks of Dobby."
"This is very important, Dobby," Ron said gravely, "And we need you to listen very carefully - and more importantly, don't tell anyone."
"Dobby won't tell no one, Wheezy!" Dobby swore, placing his spindly fingers on his purple and red plaid sweater that was, of course, two sizes too large.
Ron crouched down so he was face to face with Dobby and pulled out the flask. "We need you to sneak a little bit of this into a certain person's pumpkin juice tonight, Dobby."
Dobby clasped his hands, obviously overjoyed that the boys had come to him for this very important deed. "Dobby will do whatever Wheezy and Harry Potter need him to do, sirs!"
"Pour a bit, just a bit, into a goblet of pumpkin juice tonight, Dobby, and be sure that Hermione Granger gets it, all right?" Harry said, crouching down beside Ron.
"Miss Hermione, sirs? Dobby remembers Miss Hermione well!" Dobby cried. "Dobby will be glad to give Miss Hermione a special treat."
"Mind not to pour too much in, Dobby," Ron added, "The book said that an overdose could lead to stupor or aggressive behavior."
"You didn't read me that part!" Harry exclaimed. "Aggressive behavior?"
"If Dobby gives Hermione the proper dose, there's no need to worry," Ron said firmly. You've got it down?" he asked Dobby, rising.
"Dobby puts a few drops of Wheezy's special treat in Miss Hermione's pumpkin juice," Dobby reiterated, comfortingly patting Ron's knee. "Dobby understands, sirs. Now, would the sirs like some tea?"
"Sure!" Ron said eagerly. In less than a minute, he and Harry were settled on two low stools next to the fireplace with mugs of steaming tea and a huge plate of crumbly pastries between them. In between bites, Ron turned to Harry and whispered, "You're sure Dobby will be able carry this off?"
"If there's anything Dobby hates, it's letting people down," Harry said confidently. "Ron, by tonight, you'll be staring into Hermione's pretty eyes instead Dobby's...bulgy ones." He and Ron burst into laughter, but as Ron reached for another biscuit, he thought to himself: and it will be the best feeling in the world!
