Love is Madness
by Icarus
In the Forbidden Forest, Harry ducked as Snape casually stunned an overgrown grappling vine that made a grab for Harry. One of his booby traps probably. Then they turned the corner, and Harry very nearly groaned aloud as he saw the familiar cauldron already set up in the clearing, a small green fire playing eerily at its base. Wonderful. A combination of his two worst subjects: Potions and Dark Arts.
Snape on the other hand was positively chipper. For him.
"Today I have decided to allow you something. a little easier." Snape said. Harry rolled his eyes. Of course it was easier for Snape - he loved both these subjects. "But do not expect me to show such mercy and compassion in every class."
As they started the brew, Snape didn't explain what they were making. Not that Harry cared. He followed Snape's terse instructions as he chopped, stewed, boiled and stirred whatever this Dark Magic potion was.
It actually wasn't so bad. No more than any other Potions class. And they were outside, in a pleasant breeze. It would be great if all Potions classes were outside, Harry decided, especially the really smelly ones, like the Bolyvorg Potion (which could either add or remove warts, depending on what you wanted), or worse yet, the Smoking Hellsbane, which smelled like the bathroom after Mr. Dursley left. As an added bonus, Snape actually seemed to be in a good mood. He limited himself to a few caustic comments, small and sharp as paper cuts, but stayed intently focused on the actual content of the class. Well, why wouldn't he be in a good mood? For once in a Dark Arts class, Harry hadn't done anything unusually wrong.
Even if this had been made in the dungeon, though, this potion would not have been bad at all. It was a pleasant sort of unidentifiable shimmery color, and it smelled. well. rather good for a change. Fruity. Snape's hand flicked out and dropped in the final ingredient. Harry saw something red flutter into the cauldron. The potion changed to a sunset reddish color, and the boiling abruptly stopped.
"Smells like you could almost eat this," Harry commented, as he gave it a final stir.
"You can. Have some," Snape said drily.
Just before Harry put the stirring spoon to his mouth to taste, he caught a glimpse of Snape: there was a glint of humor in his eyes. Harry stopped, the spoon still poised. Anything Snape thought was funny was bound to be poisonous.
"Go on." Snape said smoothly.
"But - "
"Drink it!" Snape commanded, and took a menacing step closer. Harry touched his tongue to the spoon. It was sweet. His tongue didn't swell up, no warts appeared. He looked down. he hadn't changed color. He wasn't choking from poison, nor did he feel sick. Maybe he'd gotten away scott-free with such a small taste.
Then Harry felt a vague sort of disorientation, an unfocused heady euphoria, sweeping through him. The skies seemed bluer, the grass greener. It was such a lovely day. Birdsong lifted his heart.
"Some kind of happiness serum?" Harry ventured a guess.
Snape looked frighteningly pleased. "A love potion."
Harry gaped. But he hadn't thrown himself at Snape in panting physical need, and, well, Snape could hardly want that anyhow.
"Love Potion. what does that have to do with Dark Magic?" Harry asked.
Snape snorted disdainfully. "What you are thinking of is a simple aphrodisiac. That's all you are familiar with I'm sure. a little hair of goat, some musk, eye of newt. A squib can make it. But a genuine love potion - " Snape scooped and held up a vial of Harry's potion to the light approvingly. Harry would have been a lot happier about that approval if he hadn't just eaten some. Harry noticed now that Snape was wearing gloves. " - that causes head over heels, romantic addiction, the truly tortured love, is far more rare.
"Of course it is Dark Magic. It is a form of madness. And quite dangerous -
Harry began to feel worried, and a little queasy.
" - too much of even one ingredient, and one can lose one's sense of reason, of reality. permanently."
Harry swallowed. Snape looked at Harry, up and down appraisingly, painfully drawing out the silence.
"Well," Snape said, "Congratulations, Potter. You are still sane it seems. I believe we should mark this day on our calendars: this is the first Dark Arts' class you've ever passed."
But Harry noticed there was still a glint of dark humor in Snape's eyes. It occurred to Harry. could Snape have somehow found out that he and Ron took his Book of Eros?"
Harry felt dizzy all night, and into the next morning as well. At breakfast he sat and stared the lovely owls, swooshing about, until he shook his head and realized his scrambled eggs were getting cold.
"Are you learning anything in your class?" Ron asked him.
"Yeah. Not to drink anything Snape gives me, not even if he tells me to." Harry said.
"Thought you already knew that," Ron snorted.
In the Forbidden Forest, Harry ducked as Snape casually stunned an overgrown grappling vine that made a grab for Harry. One of his booby traps probably. Then they turned the corner, and Harry very nearly groaned aloud as he saw the familiar cauldron already set up in the clearing, a small green fire playing eerily at its base. Wonderful. A combination of his two worst subjects: Potions and Dark Arts.
Snape on the other hand was positively chipper. For him.
"Today I have decided to allow you something. a little easier." Snape said. Harry rolled his eyes. Of course it was easier for Snape - he loved both these subjects. "But do not expect me to show such mercy and compassion in every class."
As they started the brew, Snape didn't explain what they were making. Not that Harry cared. He followed Snape's terse instructions as he chopped, stewed, boiled and stirred whatever this Dark Magic potion was.
It actually wasn't so bad. No more than any other Potions class. And they were outside, in a pleasant breeze. It would be great if all Potions classes were outside, Harry decided, especially the really smelly ones, like the Bolyvorg Potion (which could either add or remove warts, depending on what you wanted), or worse yet, the Smoking Hellsbane, which smelled like the bathroom after Mr. Dursley left. As an added bonus, Snape actually seemed to be in a good mood. He limited himself to a few caustic comments, small and sharp as paper cuts, but stayed intently focused on the actual content of the class. Well, why wouldn't he be in a good mood? For once in a Dark Arts class, Harry hadn't done anything unusually wrong.
Even if this had been made in the dungeon, though, this potion would not have been bad at all. It was a pleasant sort of unidentifiable shimmery color, and it smelled. well. rather good for a change. Fruity. Snape's hand flicked out and dropped in the final ingredient. Harry saw something red flutter into the cauldron. The potion changed to a sunset reddish color, and the boiling abruptly stopped.
"Smells like you could almost eat this," Harry commented, as he gave it a final stir.
"You can. Have some," Snape said drily.
Just before Harry put the stirring spoon to his mouth to taste, he caught a glimpse of Snape: there was a glint of humor in his eyes. Harry stopped, the spoon still poised. Anything Snape thought was funny was bound to be poisonous.
"Go on." Snape said smoothly.
"But - "
"Drink it!" Snape commanded, and took a menacing step closer. Harry touched his tongue to the spoon. It was sweet. His tongue didn't swell up, no warts appeared. He looked down. he hadn't changed color. He wasn't choking from poison, nor did he feel sick. Maybe he'd gotten away scott-free with such a small taste.
Then Harry felt a vague sort of disorientation, an unfocused heady euphoria, sweeping through him. The skies seemed bluer, the grass greener. It was such a lovely day. Birdsong lifted his heart.
"Some kind of happiness serum?" Harry ventured a guess.
Snape looked frighteningly pleased. "A love potion."
Harry gaped. But he hadn't thrown himself at Snape in panting physical need, and, well, Snape could hardly want that anyhow.
"Love Potion. what does that have to do with Dark Magic?" Harry asked.
Snape snorted disdainfully. "What you are thinking of is a simple aphrodisiac. That's all you are familiar with I'm sure. a little hair of goat, some musk, eye of newt. A squib can make it. But a genuine love potion - " Snape scooped and held up a vial of Harry's potion to the light approvingly. Harry would have been a lot happier about that approval if he hadn't just eaten some. Harry noticed now that Snape was wearing gloves. " - that causes head over heels, romantic addiction, the truly tortured love, is far more rare.
"Of course it is Dark Magic. It is a form of madness. And quite dangerous -
Harry began to feel worried, and a little queasy.
" - too much of even one ingredient, and one can lose one's sense of reason, of reality. permanently."
Harry swallowed. Snape looked at Harry, up and down appraisingly, painfully drawing out the silence.
"Well," Snape said, "Congratulations, Potter. You are still sane it seems. I believe we should mark this day on our calendars: this is the first Dark Arts' class you've ever passed."
But Harry noticed there was still a glint of dark humor in Snape's eyes. It occurred to Harry. could Snape have somehow found out that he and Ron took his Book of Eros?"
Harry felt dizzy all night, and into the next morning as well. At breakfast he sat and stared the lovely owls, swooshing about, until he shook his head and realized his scrambled eggs were getting cold.
"Are you learning anything in your class?" Ron asked him.
"Yeah. Not to drink anything Snape gives me, not even if he tells me to." Harry said.
"Thought you already knew that," Ron snorted.