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XIXIX "Motivations" XIXIX
Ginny really didn't think it would work.
Human sexuality was a broad spectrum ranging between the vast extremes of straight and gay. Most of wizardkind happily fell somewhere in the middle, opening themselves up to a variety of experiences during their experimentation years, before typically, although not always, settling down with someone of the opposite sex with whom they would raise a lovely young wizarding family.
She looked at Harry sadly for a moment. Things never did seem to work out for him. But if she could help at all, she was willing to give it a try. And if it didn't work, then hey, it probably would be a funny prank.
What Ginny didn't know was that just before meeting with her, her two older brothers had had a stroke of genius and decided to lie to her about the true nature of their prank, just in case she was susceptible to unfortunate feelings of guilt that just might accompany setting a good friend up to get all loopy for one of the school's biggest pricks. So instead of telling her that the powder she was going to put in Harry's food was supposed to make him all hot and bothered over Draco Malfoy, they told her that it was supposed to make him irresistible to whoever it was that he was attracted to.
And as easily embarrassed as Harry got, and as shy as Harry was, Ginny had to admit that it would be pretty damn funny to watch his reaction if Luna Lovegood were to suddenly become overwhelmed with desire for him, and vocally and publicly declare as much.
Poor Harry.
After having spent the first six years of his wizarding life constantly in conflict with a deranged dark wizard, Harry had finally vanquished him a year ago by successfully concocting God Water, which was theorized to even be capable of putting out the fires of Hell. Harry had dumped a bucket of this water on the Dark Lord, and Voldemort had promptly melted into oblivion, screaming about it all the way like some cackling old witch.
Harry had spent the next year trying to get on with his life, or more to the point, trying to get one. He turned back to his studies like a normal student, and fretted over what he would do after graduation as though he wasn't the Boy Who Lived and would be hired on anywhere, and he had developed a deep crush on, and perhaps even fallen in love with, Luna Lovegood.
Who was a total dyke.
It was even rumored that Abram Sevenson, seventh year Ravenclaw and absolutely the hottest guy at Hogwarts, had orchestrated a stunt so that Luna walked in on him in the shower, and she DIDN'T BAT AN EYE!!!! I mean, Abram Sevenson all naked and soapy and she didn't jump all over him! There was no way she could be even remotely inclined toward the male persuasion.
And poor Harry had it bad. She had been so nice to him after the war had ended, and she had just treated him like a friend—not like a savior—so it was no wonder he fell for her, but… damn. He had never had much luck with the ladies, but now Ginny was wondering if that just had to do with his taste.
All the same, she managed to casually reach over his plate for a breakfast pastry and sprinkle just a tiny bit of powder on his food. Ginny was good at pranks like this and no one was the wiser, nor would they be even if she had to do this every breakfast for the next month before he graduated. And she felt no shame, because maybe it would help her friend win a little love into his life.
And regardless, it would be funny.
There was a murmur at the door and Harry and Ginny both looked up to see Malfoy entering the Great Hall, late as always, and surrounded by his goon squad.
XIXIX
Who the hell did they think they were?! Blackmailing a Zabini! And laughing about it!
Those disgusting pictures were so very obviously faked, because there was no way in the wizarding world that anyone would believe that Blaise Zabini—young, handsome, charismatic Slytherin—would ever drop his standards low enough to shag Crabbe and Goyle. Nice blokes, they were, but horribly huge, and deeply disgusting.
But the twins did have the right idea about with concocting those photographs, because enough people were jealous of Blaise that would have a field day if they ever got their hands on this bit of faux evidence. And his mum would just have a heart attack at the shock of seeing Crabbe and Goyle naked with her son. It wouldn't matter if the photos were real or not—because she'd be dead.
So Blaise would acquiesce to their desires, turning his best mate into a guinea pig for their latest experiment—a love potion of some sort.
He had sworn his revenge though, and the twins had laughed.
"Blaise," said Fred, or maybe it had been George, "That is half the fun!"
In the meantime, Blaise had his own plans for this love potion.
Draco wasn't much the socialite anymore since his father had been locked in Azkaban. He had told Blaise that that took much of the pressure off of him so that he didn't always have to be at the forefront of everything. Make no mistake—he still called himself the Malfoy heir (as a favor to his mother, because actually he was now the head of the Malfoy house since his father had been imprisoned for life), and he lived up to that title with his fine aristocratic features, his elegant skill at all he did, and his refined ability to lead even the most obstinate of followers. But he had withdrawn somewhat from his social obligations over the past year, which meant that he spent most of his time in the solitary company of his best mate.
And if Draco Malfoy was going to be under the influence of a love potion, Blaise Zabini meant to use this unfortunate situation to his advantage. Draco Malfoy would be his.
Draco was in a right mood this morning. After showering, he had apparently walked in on Crabbe and Goyle in the throws of their lovemaking. It was not a mental picture anyone wanted to have. Blaise shuddered. His mental image now included himself, thanks to those extremely obviously faked pictures—and that was definitely not a mental image he wanted to have.
He poured his friend a glass of pumpkin juice, stealthily spiking it with the powder the Weasleys had provided.
Draco gulped down his juice, eating swiftly, but with a refined grace. Blaise wondered how long it would take for the powder to kick in. He decided to try his luck.
He turned to Draco with a concerned look on his face. "Draco," he said softly, "Are you feeling alright? You look a bit pale." He casually reached up and put his hand to Draco's forehead while gazing into his eyes. He turned his wrist and brought his hand down to Draco's shoulder, but not before stroking his cheek just slightly with the back of his hand.
"Sod off, Blaise," said Draco irritably. "You know perfectly well what's wrong, and I'll not have you laughing at me about it."
Maybe not just yet then. Blaise decided to try again later.
They talked about neutral topics for the rest of breakfast—schoolwork mainly, as their NEWTS were coming up soon. They had a long morning ahead of them—double Potions followed by double Transfiguration, and both with Gryffindor to boot! Professors Snape and McGonagall had both become real slave drivers since their OWLS, and with NEWTS so close, their classes were nearly unbearable and each night's homework seemed to take weeks to complete.
They talked about the hardships of their classes as though it were no big deal. Each understood the other's complaints of their academic struggle, but they were Slytherin after all. Everyone knew that Slytherins could do anything, so they must not let on to others that they worried whether they really could.
Blaise and Draco gathered their things and headed to Potions without waiting for Crabbe and Goyle, whom Draco had given specific instructions to "stay the Hell away" from him.
Just as they reached the door to the Great Hall, they ran into—surprise, surprise—the Gryffindor trio.
Draco opened his mouth for his usual slander against Potter, but stopped suddenly, as though the words caught in his throat. Potter stood there as well, his mouth slightly opened. He would have been a mirror image to Draco if it weren't for his sloppiness, and that unsightly blemish on his forehead.
"Uh, Harry?" said the walking encyclopedia, Hermione Granger, looking either confused or concerned—it was so hard to tell with these muggleborns.
They all stood there for a moment, looking at each other, when Blaise came to the rescue.
"Well, exciting as this conversation is, Draco and I really do have much more important things to be doing than consorting with… your sort." He grabbed Draco's elbow and tugged gently, but Draco stood there, staring at Potter with the strangest expression on his face. "Uh, Draco?" said Blaise, a bit confused, and a bit concerned.
"Hi, Harry," said a dreamy voice. Luna Lovegood had jut wandered over as though she had only the vaguest of notions that she had to exit through this door in order to get to her classes. She shoved her overly large glasses up her nose and stared up at Harry with a dazed smile. Blaise sniffed at the girl—she had a dozen different braids in her hair of all different sizes, and pointing all different directions, giving her a completely asymmetrical look.
Potter smiled his goofy grin and turned to Luna, "Er, um, hi, Luna," he said, as eloquent as always. "How was your weekend?"
Luna looked around. "Since I saw you last night, you mean? Just fine. I've been researching Farnkel Lewses for my father. You know, I think I might become a reporter…"
Draco shook his head, finally broken from his bizarre trance and turned to Blaise with his brow furrowed. "Yeah, come on, Blaise. We don't want to be late today."
XIXIX
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A/N: And thus- the explanation about the whole "quadrilateral" business.
First off, about the use of "muggleborn" instead of "mudblood", if anyone noticed…
For this story, I am equating the use of the word "mudblood" with the use of the word "n...r". It's a hateful and disgusting insult that comes from bigotry and nothing more. Adult aristocratic bigots might teach their children the values that inspire them to use such words, but they would not use such words themselves (except in tasteless jokes and in 'boy's club' settings, and the like). Likewise, their children would probably use such words until they grew up a bit and realized that people who hear them using such words think of them as low-class bigots, when in fact, they are high-class bigots. So Blaise would think of Hermione as less-than-witch, but would simply call her "muggleborn" while thinking of her in sub-human terms.
We'll see if we can't open their minds a bit in this story, but I'm not going to force it if they're just not ready. You can't change people unless they're willing to change, you know.
But anyway, I hope this chapter served as another good tease. Next chapter, we get to see what happens when we put two people, who hate each other and who are under the influence of the Powder of Love, together in stressful circumstances—most notably, in Potions and Transfiguration classes.
I feel the coming of wacky high jinx!
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