Title: Brewing Trouble

Rating: PG-13 (for mild language and slightly (im)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. Thank you for all the wonderful comments, please keep them coming, they're greatly appreciated! : )

Chapter 7 - The Antidote

So he was indeed on his own, Ron thought, staring into the darkness. It must have been two o'clock in the morning, and Ron hadn't slept a wink. He had lain in bed staring at the scarlet canopy hanging above his head for four hours. The bombshell that Harry dropped on him earlier that night had really shaken him. Pleading fatigue, he'd gone to bed right away, unable to look at Harry any more.

Harry loved Hermione. Harry loved Hermione. Ron had no way of knowing whether it was the potion talking, or whether Harry was really, truly in love with Hermione. If only he could know for sure it was the potion, Ron thought, he'd be able to breathe much more easily. But what if it wasn't? What if Harry had loved Hermione just as long as Ron had? What would they do then? Would they go to Hermione and make her choose?

Of course, she'd choose Harry, Ron thought bitterly. Why would she choose anyone else? Harry was famous. Harry was rich. Harry was everything he, Ron, wasn't. Suddenly, Ron felt very, very tired.

The next morning, the Gryffendors gathered in the Common Room to hear their fates. Ron sat next to Hermione, unable to bring himself to sit near Harry.

"Does it hurt?" Ron whispered to Hermione, who was sporting an impressive lump on her head.

"A little," she whispered back. "I think my pride hurts worse than anything else. Oh Ron, I'm so sorry for getting into a fight with your sister. I wouldn't blame you if you don't want to sit with me." She glanced at Ginny, who was seated on the other side of the room.

Before Ron could reply, the portrait swung open and a very grave-looking Professor McGonagall stepped into Gryffendor Tower, Professors Snape and Dumbledore on either side of her. McGonagall cleared her throat, folded her hands, and began to speak.

"I hope," she said, "that I will never again see Hogwarts students - Gryffendor students - behaving in the way that so many behaved last night. I do not know the details and no one seems sure of how it all began, therefore everyone will be punished." A loud groan traveled around the Common Room. "Forty points will be deducted from this house for each person that I saw directly involved in the fight, and fifteen points will be taken away for each person that did not try to break up the fight or find a teacher.

"In addition, for the next two months, you will all be escorted to your lessons by a teacher. You will eat your meals in the Great Hall and then go to class or return to the Tower immediately. Quidditch..." she paused and glanced at Professor Snape, "...will not be affected, although *some* believe Gryffendor should be banned from playing Quidditch for the year. You will, however, be ineligible for the House Cup at the end of the year."

"I hope," Dumbledore stepped forward, "that from now on everyone will be more aware of how the actions of few can greatly affect the lives of many. I must echo Professor McGonagall's sentiment that I am saddened by what happened last night." He folded his hands, and Snape stepped forward. Hermione patted her hair and sat up a little straighter.

"I can assure you," Snape added, "That the students of mine who were involved have been punished accordingly. As I understand it, however," he continued silkily, "Any Slytherin involved in the fight was simply defending himself - all violence was initiated by Gryffendors. I'm sure I can guess who is to blame."

Ron shifted uncomfortably in his seat as Snape glared first at him and then at Harry.

"May I just say, Professor Snape - " Hermione began breathlessly, a doting look in her eye. Ron very carefully stepped squarely on her foot and she abruptly got quiet.

"Classes will be starting in one hour. I suggest everyone come to the Great Hall for breakfast." McGonagall concluded. As she and the men left the Tower, the Gryffendors began to murmur and move around. Some followed the teachers to the Great Hall, others stayed where they were to grumble about the loss of points.

"Are you coming for breakfast?" Harry asked, approaching Ron and Hermione. Completely unaware of the look Ron was shooting him, he smiled blithely at Hermione.

"Sure, let's go." Hermione said, standing up. "Coming Ron?"

"You go ahead," Ron said reluctantly. "I've got to...do - something." He watched Harry and Hermione step through the portrait, a knot forming in his stomach. The last thing he really wanted to do was send Harry off alone with Hermione, but he needed to scour that stupid pink potions book for the antidote.

He hurried upstairs and into the dormitory, locking the door behind him. He pulled the book out of his trunk and sat down by the window. "Devotion draughts...beauty brews...the ultimate love potion!" He scanned the page quickly, reading over the list of ingredients and the cautionary note at the bottom about dazed or aggressive behavior. "Please be an antidote, please, please..." Ron whispered. "Ha!" He practically jumped out of his seat when he saw the note at the bottom. "For an antidote to this passionate potion, see page 130." He quickly flipped to page 130 and nearly cried with relief at the big, scripted 'Antidote' at the top of the page.

"Crushed dandelion root, some more ginger root, powdered horn of erumpent, a cupful of flobberworm secretion..." Ron let the book fall closed as he leaned his head against the wall. Here, at his fingertips, was the answer to the problem that had, in just a few short days, caused madness and mayhem throughout the school. If he got moving, he could mix it up and have it finished in time for dinner that night - Dobby would surely, in an attempt to redeem himself, slip it into the dinner that night. But he'd have to get moving.

Ron shut the book, tucked it under his arm, grabbed his potion set, and unlocked the dormitory door. There was still three-quarters of an hour left before the first class started; he'd be able to get the potion mixed and could probably slip back during lunch to check on it.

"Hi Ron." Lavender Brown appeared suddenly in front of the portrait. She wore a fuzzy maroon sweater and a huge smile.

"Hi Lavender," Ron replied, trying to step around her.

"I thought you were very brave last night," said Lavender, blinking rapidly.

"Got an eyelash in your eye?" Ron asked impatiently. Why wouldn't she move? He tried to step around her again, but she blocked the portrait with an arm on either side of the opening.

"There's no point, Ron," she said, tossing her long hair.

"Er - okay," said Ron. Silly girl. She'd probably taken a look at his tealeaves one afternoon and decided he was fated to be crushed by a mad dragon.

"You feel it. I feel it. Why don't we just give into our feelings?" Lavender said flirtatiously. Ron gulped.

"Er, Lavender, you've got it all wrong. I - I have to go," Ron said, his palms beginning to sweat.

"Not without me!" Lavender said gaily, moving forward. She spread her arms, obviously hoping for a hug, but Ron ducked under her outstretched arms and darted out of the Tower. He chuckled at her shriek of rage and took off towards Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. He stumbled into the bathroom and plunked everything down beside the sinks. He propped the book open on the floor beside him and set up his cauldron.

"'Two roots each of ginger and dandelion,'" Ron read, squinting down at the book. He quickly pulled the roots out of his box and ground them up a bit with his pestle. "'One-quarter of a powdered erumpent horn.'" Ron removed a small vial from his potions set, twisted off the cap, and tapped some of the whitish powder into the cauldron.

"Back again, are you?"

Ron jumped as Moaning Myrtle floated through a stall door, an inquisitive look on her face. She picked absentmindedly at a spot on her chin as she peered into the cauldron.

"Brewing up some more trouble, are you?" she shrieked suddenly, frightening Ron again. "Didn't your last potion work?"

"A little too well," Ron muttered, screwing the cap back onto the vial and placing it back in his potions set.

"It's not polite to mutter!" Myrtle screeched. "Olive Hornby always used to mutter mean things about me to the other girls during Potions. She was such a nasty girl - so mean to poor, sad, lonely Myrtle." With a loud sob, Myrtle floated back into her stall and Ron heaved a sigh of relief.

"'A cupful of flobberworm secretion to thicken the potion,'" Ron read. "'Then let boil for half an hour, skim, and bottle.' Sounds simple enough." He poured a cupful of the flobberworm mucus (it was quite nasty-looking, really) into the cauldron and began packing up his things. If he timed it right, breakfast would be ending and it would be time for Care of Magical Creatures with Hagrid and the Hufflepuffs. He could slip back during lunch to finish the potion.

Things were not as simple as Ron thought they would be. The teachers were watching the Gryffendor students very closely, and Ron had to pretend he was ready to throw up in order to get out of the Great Hall. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lavender Brown hurrying to catch up with him. He ran down the corridor, checking over his shoulder every few seconds, until he got to the bathroom.

He skidded to a stop by the sinks. "Incendio!" he said breathlessly, aiming his wand at the counter. When the familiar circle of flames popped up, he levitated the cauldron over them and let it hover while he caught his breath. Thankfully, Myrtle did not appear again, and Ron was able to skim and bottle the potion without any interruptions. He held the murky brown potion up to the light and shrugged.

"Part one is finished," he said to himself. "On to the kitchen."

It was much easier to get into the kitchen than it had been the previous times. The halls were deserted as everyone was eating lunch, and Ron easily strolled over to the painting and tickled the pear. The kitchen was different as well - numerous house elves were slumped over on chairs and on the floor, panting and mopping their foreheads with rags, obviously exhausted from the meal they had just prepared. Sprawled in front of the fireplace was Dobby. Ron hurried over to him and crouched down.

"Dobby, I need another favor," he whispered. Dobby raised his head and scrubbed at his tearstained cheeks with gauze-wrapped fists.

"Is it really Wheezy?" Dobby breathed, blinking rapidly. "Dobby is thinking that Wheezy is hating Dobby and is never coming back!"

Ron shifted uncomfortably. "I'm sorry I shouted at you, Dobby," he said sincerely, "I was angry."

"Dobby is very sorry, Wheezy sir!" Dobby said, bobbing his head. "Dobby is burning his fingers on the oven." He held up his bandaged hands.

"There's one more thing I need you to do," Ron said, handing Dobby the antidote. "Pour this in the gravy or the soup or whatever we're having tonight - it will fix everything that went wrong before."

"Dobby will do it, Wheezy!" Dobby exclaimed, tucking the potion in his shirt pocket. "Dobby is doing anything to make Wheezy happy with him!"

"Thank you," Ron said, standing up. He gave a little wave at the other house elves, who wearily waggled their long, bony fingers at him. As he furtively crept back down the hall, he realized that now all he could do was what he'd been doing so much of the past few days: wait.

A/N: Two chapters left! Will poor Ron finally straighten everything out?