Disclaimer: I can't even afford the rights to Harry Potter.
"No way. You've got to be kidding."
"It's true. Malfoy heard the whole thing."
"But Moaning Myrtle? Come off it."
"Well, stranger things have happened."
Several days after Malfoy had heard Harry confront Snape about the Love Potion, the rumor had spread throughout the entire student body. People were forever coming up to Harry, asking if the story was true, suggesting ridiculous remedies, and often, merely staring at him, unable to voice whatever questions were in their minds. Eventually, as Harry had known it would, the tale reached Ron and Hermione.
They pulled him over to three armchairs by the fire in Gryffindor's common room. Hermione was at her most businesslike, fixing Harry with a stare that, as usual, made her look strikingly like Professor McGonagall.
"Harry," she said, "what on earth is this rubbish about Moaning Myrtle?"
It would have been so easy to lie. It would have been so easy just to say that Malfoy had made up the story to humiliate Harry.
Yet Harry knew, deep down, that Hermione would never believe that. Harry realized that Hermione knew that Malfoy would never make up something so ridiculous. What Malfoy would do, on the other hand, was exaggerate any story that had the slightest potential to embarrass Harry. And that, Harry realized, was what Hermione thought Malfoy had done. Now he had to tell her that every word Malfoy had said was true.
"Er ... I ... Sna—um," he said hoarsely, still mustering up the courage to say it.
"What?" said Hermione impatiently.
Harry could see she wasn't going to rest until she knew. Abandoning all hope of telling her gradually, he began to speak as fast as he could.
"During my detention Monday, Snape Stunned me and gave me a Love Potion. He forced me to, um, fall in love with Moaning Myrtle."
Ron and Hermione stared at him blankly.
"You're not serious, are you, Harry?" said Hermione.
Harry wasn't sure what to say. He was thinking about denying the truth of what Malfoy was telling everyone. But he knew that even if he did manage to convince Ron and Hermione that it was all a lie, reversing his condition would be easier with Hermione's help.
"I wish I weren't," he said finally. "Of course Malfoy would have to be the first one to find out about it."
Ron was still looking at Harry nervously, as though he were dangerous. Harry was once again struck with the embarrassment of having to admit to being in love with a ghost, but at least now he could ask Ron and Hermione for help.
"What, er, do you think I should do?" he asked, trying to sound casual.
"You'd better go to Madam Pomfrey," said Hermione. "She might know what to do, but don't count on it."
Harry ran into the hospital wing to find Madam Pomfrey bent over one of the infirmary's beds, all of which were occupied by sneezing, shivering people.
"As you can see, Potter, I'm rather busy," said Madam Pomfrey, straightening up. "What exactly is your trouble? Have you been doing something risky again?"
"No, I, well," said Harry, who even now was finding his story difficult to tell. Lowering his voice, he continued, "Sn—somebody's given me a Love Potion."
"Goodness, Potter," said Madam Pomfrey. "How on earth did you let that happen? No, don't tell me, I don't want to know. As for an antidote, you'll have to wait several weeks. I won't have time to start brewing again until next week, and the antidote you need takes another week to make. Keep quiet about your, er, condition, because as long as I can cure you before any of the other staff find out, I'm not required to tell anyone."
Without reflecting on the possibility of a teacher's hearing about the Love Potion from a student, Harry thanked Madam Pomfrey and bolted from the infirmary.
"Well, that's good," said Hermione when Harry told her and Ron. "Now all you have to do is wait."
"All he has to do?" said Ron, staring at Hermione. "Do you realize Snape and Malfoy could tell anyone about this? All Snape would have to do is go to McGonagall and tell her Harry'd been making Love Potions, and he'd be in big trouble."
"Thanks, Ron," Harry muttered. "New perspectives are always welcome."
Harry slipped back into Myrtle's bathroom during break the next day. If he had to suffer the humiliation of everyone knowing he was in love with Myrtle, at least he could console himself by being back in Myrtle's good graces. Mustering all his courage, he walked over to her stall.
"Myrtle," he said through the door, "whatever I said that offended you, I'm sorry. I actually care about you, you know."
"Why shouldn't you?" she said sulkily.
"No, that's not what I—er—"
"Because if you're going to keep making fun of me, you can just go away and do it somewhere else where I can't hear you."
"But, Myrtle, I really—oh, come on, everyone's making fun of me for liking you! Can't you just—"
"Oh, you really know how to make someone's day, don't you?" Myrtle yelled. "Why don't you go hurt someone else's feelings for a change?"
Realizing the stupidity of what he had said, Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Myrtle beat him to it.
"You'll pay for this, I warn you! Get out of here or I'll—"
For the second time since Snape had given Harry the Love Potion, Harry left the room before Myrtle had finished speaking.
As Harry was making his way down to the Great Hall for breakfast the next morning, a strange sensation overtook Harry. It was almost as if he were made of water. Ron and Hermione seemed to notice his puzzled expression, but said nothing.
The feeling persisted all morning. On their way to Herbology, as the three of them passed one of the heaviest-looking suits of armor, Harry heard a familiar cackle.
A/N: This chapter, like the last one, took me ages to write. I've been editing it forever, and I still really don't like it. But tell me what you think (hint hint), as some of you so kindly did on the last chapter and my other story. Fifty points to anyone who reviews.