* * * Flashback * * *
Draco Malfoy was bored.
Now, it was not often that Draco Malfoy was bored.
He had always had plenty to . . . entertain him.
But Professor Snape had put him - him, Draco Malfoy! - in a detention, for adding ingredients to Ron's potion in a mock NEWT which caused it to explode in his face and give him purple boils which, Madame Pomfrey said, would take several weeks to heal.
Now he was sitting in the cold potions classroom, dissecting flobberworm spleens for tomorrow's third years' lesson.
Snape would not allow him to use magic for this - he found himself degraded by doing it the muggle way, unskilled as he was with the scalpel that kept nicking the ends of his fingers.
Draco had been doing this for about twenty minutes when Minerva McGonagall appeared in the doorway, a suitably chastising expression on her face.
'Severus, had you completely forgotten? The meeting . . .'
Professor Snape remembered that he was, indeed, meant to have been in a staff meeting twenty-five minutes ago.
He rose quickly from behind his desk, turning to Draco, and with a swish of his cloak said:
'You will remain here until I return. When you have finished dissecting flobberworm spleens,' - he picked up some polish and a rag from behind his desk - 'you will clean the cauldron.'
As Draco looked at the huge cauldron that Professor Snape used for the more dangerous displays of the potential of some potions, Snape hurried out of the classroom, cloak flowing behind him.
Draco soon finished the flobberworm spleens, and decided that, as Snape had not distinctly said that he was to clean the cauldron by muggle means, he would not do so.
He muttered something under his breath in a bored, distracted fashion, and flicked his wand at the cauldron.
It gleamed in the candlelight - good as new.
Draco was feeling very rebellious at that moment in time, against Professor Snape particularly, but also against a school system which never allowed him to have any fun.
Draco's eye was caught by the door to Snape's study - it was slightly ajar. Snape had rushed out of the classroom without thinking of locking it.
He sauntered over, slowly, ready to look very innocent all of a sudden if anyone were to appear in the doorway.
But no one came. No footsteps echoed on the cold stone floor outside.
Draco entered the study.
He had been in here before, of course, but never alone.
His eyes roamed over all the shelves, and were caught by a slim volume, almost invisible crammed between a huge potions manual and the wall.
It was far out of Draco's reach, but he pulled his wand out of his pocket and called the book to him with a flick of his wrist.
He looked at the cover. 'Most Potente Potions of Passion', it read.
He flicked through the book. Why did Snape have this?
It was just the same old love potions, far much more effort than they are worth, and with an annoying tendency to wear off just when they are bearing fruit.
Draco noticed one potion that seemed a little different from the rest. 'Boundless Lust' it promised. A slightly more promising proclamation than 'Endless Love', thought Draco. Perhaps love just wasn't something you could control with potions and spells.
But lust, on the other hand. . .
Draco read the recipe carefully. It called for many things he had never used, only heard of in theory classes. It truly was a most potente potion.
It required a piece of the DNA of someone - the person to whom it was administered would feel desperate lust for whoever it was who had been included in the potion. This lust would last, ever increasing, until the victim of the potion was satisfied by the target of the lust.
Draco began to formulate a plan to get back at Professor Snape for this humiliating punishment.
Draco went to Snape's private potions ingredients cupboard, and took everything he needed for this concoction.
The potion was surprisingly easy to put together.
Draco assumed that any potion so easy to create and with such potent an effect must have grave side effects, else why would it not be in everyday use?
But the side effects, Draco felt, would only add greatly to his enjoyment.
Finally, he needed to add the DNA of his victim. This was surprisingly easy - after all, Snape's bedroom was through a door behind his study desk.
Draco took a hair from Snape's hairbrush (yes, although greasy, Snape's hair was surprisingly untangled) and added it to the potion.
The potion went from a sludgy green soup, which Draco felt he was going to have trouble administering to anybody, to a clear, effervescent liquid. It looked like lemonade!
He decanted the potion into one of the little glass phials stacked neatly in one corner of the classroom, and used magic to clean the small beaker he had borrowed to mix the potion in.
He did all this just in time, as it happened, because that very minute Professor Snape returned from his meeting.
He looked tired and distracted, dismissing Draco with a wave of his had, saying 'Go, Malfoy, you'll be late for dinner'.
Draco walked off to dinner, looking as cold and distant he always did, but hugging himself inside, in the knowledge that his use of magical cleaning methods and reckless use of potent magics had gone unnoticed.
He sat at the Slytherin table, laughing with Crabbe and Goyle about Snape's foolishness in giving him, Draco Malfoy, a detention.
He told them nothing, however, of his plans for revenge.
As they left the hall, Draco broke away from his cronies and headed towards the Gryffindor table.
He stood next to Harry, opposite Ron, who still had a tinge of purple around his hairline, and a pinkish-looking boil on his chin.
'P-Professor Snape said I should c-come and apologise to you,' he said.
He paused, looking around, and seeing all eyes on him.
Apologising was not something that came easily to Draco Malfoy, even under duress . . . and apologising in a situation like this, when no-one had asked or expected him to, was even harder.
Apologising to a Weasley was one of the hardest things Draco had ever done, it went so much against his nature, but he felt that, for this spectacle, it would be worth it.
'Well . . .?' said Ron, awaiting Malfoy's apology with a sense of disbelief.
'I'msorryImessedupyourexperiment,' he mumbled.
'Sorry, Malfoy, didn't quite catch that . . .'
'I'm sorry that I messed up your experiment and gave you purple boils.'
As every Gryffindor exchanged amused looks and guarded giggles, and as Harry and Ron smirked at each other, Draco took advantage of their distraction to pour his potion into Harry's pumpkin juice.
Draco blushed, a strange, foreign flushing in his incessantly white cheeks, and swiftly walked off to his common room.
Draco Malfoy was bored.
Now, it was not often that Draco Malfoy was bored.
He had always had plenty to . . . entertain him.
But Professor Snape had put him - him, Draco Malfoy! - in a detention, for adding ingredients to Ron's potion in a mock NEWT which caused it to explode in his face and give him purple boils which, Madame Pomfrey said, would take several weeks to heal.
Now he was sitting in the cold potions classroom, dissecting flobberworm spleens for tomorrow's third years' lesson.
Snape would not allow him to use magic for this - he found himself degraded by doing it the muggle way, unskilled as he was with the scalpel that kept nicking the ends of his fingers.
Draco had been doing this for about twenty minutes when Minerva McGonagall appeared in the doorway, a suitably chastising expression on her face.
'Severus, had you completely forgotten? The meeting . . .'
Professor Snape remembered that he was, indeed, meant to have been in a staff meeting twenty-five minutes ago.
He rose quickly from behind his desk, turning to Draco, and with a swish of his cloak said:
'You will remain here until I return. When you have finished dissecting flobberworm spleens,' - he picked up some polish and a rag from behind his desk - 'you will clean the cauldron.'
As Draco looked at the huge cauldron that Professor Snape used for the more dangerous displays of the potential of some potions, Snape hurried out of the classroom, cloak flowing behind him.
Draco soon finished the flobberworm spleens, and decided that, as Snape had not distinctly said that he was to clean the cauldron by muggle means, he would not do so.
He muttered something under his breath in a bored, distracted fashion, and flicked his wand at the cauldron.
It gleamed in the candlelight - good as new.
Draco was feeling very rebellious at that moment in time, against Professor Snape particularly, but also against a school system which never allowed him to have any fun.
Draco's eye was caught by the door to Snape's study - it was slightly ajar. Snape had rushed out of the classroom without thinking of locking it.
He sauntered over, slowly, ready to look very innocent all of a sudden if anyone were to appear in the doorway.
But no one came. No footsteps echoed on the cold stone floor outside.
Draco entered the study.
He had been in here before, of course, but never alone.
His eyes roamed over all the shelves, and were caught by a slim volume, almost invisible crammed between a huge potions manual and the wall.
It was far out of Draco's reach, but he pulled his wand out of his pocket and called the book to him with a flick of his wrist.
He looked at the cover. 'Most Potente Potions of Passion', it read.
He flicked through the book. Why did Snape have this?
It was just the same old love potions, far much more effort than they are worth, and with an annoying tendency to wear off just when they are bearing fruit.
Draco noticed one potion that seemed a little different from the rest. 'Boundless Lust' it promised. A slightly more promising proclamation than 'Endless Love', thought Draco. Perhaps love just wasn't something you could control with potions and spells.
But lust, on the other hand. . .
Draco read the recipe carefully. It called for many things he had never used, only heard of in theory classes. It truly was a most potente potion.
It required a piece of the DNA of someone - the person to whom it was administered would feel desperate lust for whoever it was who had been included in the potion. This lust would last, ever increasing, until the victim of the potion was satisfied by the target of the lust.
Draco began to formulate a plan to get back at Professor Snape for this humiliating punishment.
Draco went to Snape's private potions ingredients cupboard, and took everything he needed for this concoction.
The potion was surprisingly easy to put together.
Draco assumed that any potion so easy to create and with such potent an effect must have grave side effects, else why would it not be in everyday use?
But the side effects, Draco felt, would only add greatly to his enjoyment.
Finally, he needed to add the DNA of his victim. This was surprisingly easy - after all, Snape's bedroom was through a door behind his study desk.
Draco took a hair from Snape's hairbrush (yes, although greasy, Snape's hair was surprisingly untangled) and added it to the potion.
The potion went from a sludgy green soup, which Draco felt he was going to have trouble administering to anybody, to a clear, effervescent liquid. It looked like lemonade!
He decanted the potion into one of the little glass phials stacked neatly in one corner of the classroom, and used magic to clean the small beaker he had borrowed to mix the potion in.
He did all this just in time, as it happened, because that very minute Professor Snape returned from his meeting.
He looked tired and distracted, dismissing Draco with a wave of his had, saying 'Go, Malfoy, you'll be late for dinner'.
Draco walked off to dinner, looking as cold and distant he always did, but hugging himself inside, in the knowledge that his use of magical cleaning methods and reckless use of potent magics had gone unnoticed.
He sat at the Slytherin table, laughing with Crabbe and Goyle about Snape's foolishness in giving him, Draco Malfoy, a detention.
He told them nothing, however, of his plans for revenge.
As they left the hall, Draco broke away from his cronies and headed towards the Gryffindor table.
He stood next to Harry, opposite Ron, who still had a tinge of purple around his hairline, and a pinkish-looking boil on his chin.
'P-Professor Snape said I should c-come and apologise to you,' he said.
He paused, looking around, and seeing all eyes on him.
Apologising was not something that came easily to Draco Malfoy, even under duress . . . and apologising in a situation like this, when no-one had asked or expected him to, was even harder.
Apologising to a Weasley was one of the hardest things Draco had ever done, it went so much against his nature, but he felt that, for this spectacle, it would be worth it.
'Well . . .?' said Ron, awaiting Malfoy's apology with a sense of disbelief.
'I'msorryImessedupyourexperiment,' he mumbled.
'Sorry, Malfoy, didn't quite catch that . . .'
'I'm sorry that I messed up your experiment and gave you purple boils.'
As every Gryffindor exchanged amused looks and guarded giggles, and as Harry and Ron smirked at each other, Draco took advantage of their distraction to pour his potion into Harry's pumpkin juice.
Draco blushed, a strange, foreign flushing in his incessantly white cheeks, and swiftly walked off to his common room.