Vignette 8: The Love Potion

AN: My take on the Harry-was-love-potioned trope. It is also the longest chapter so far and the plottiest, and I apologize for that. I promise I will return to dopamine hits after this. As a reminder, each chapter in this collection is its own individual world.

This chapter is dedicated to Aurora Nightstar, another frequent reviewer. I actually was stewing over a Draco's Wedding chapter for you since you said you liked that bit in the last one, but ended up coming up with this instead. I hope you like it.

WARNING: Because this chapter is about love potions it, by definition, implies rape. There is no graphic content, but if implied rape triggers you, please skip this chapter.

Harry woke up to the light streaming in from his bedroom window and an incredible feeling of wrongness.

He blinked for a few moments and rubbed his eyes, trying to place the feeling. It was starting to fade. A glint of red caught his eye. He lurched for his glasses. Putting them on, he looked around and his heart dropped.

Besides him lay Ginny Weasley, her red hair laid out in a resplendent halo around her head as she clutched a Harry Potter doll to her chest. How had he never noticed that doll before? How had he never minded? Their blanket was pulled up to her waist and it was clear that she wasn't wearing anything except for the ring on her finger. Affection surged through Harry as soon as he saw the ring - an urge to pepper her with kisses and do whatever she wanted, just to make her happy. He panicked, forcing himself to look away, forcing the feeling away. Revulsion warred with affection and he pushed himself away, falling off their bed and onto the floor with a thud.

"Harry, love," came Ginny's sleepy voice. "Are you okay?"

No. No, he was not okay. But he wasn't about to tell her that. His mind raced and latched on to the one person he knew he could always rely on. Forgetting the fact that he wasn't wearing anything but his boxers, he grabbed his wand and disapparated with a loud pop.

He reappeared in a familiar dining room in front of a startled pair of cold, blue eyes. Quick as a flash, he found a wand pointed at his neck.

"One reason," hissed the owner of those eyes, trembling as she stood so quickly that her chair fell back. She wore a green nightgown and her hair was done up in her trademark, neat ponytail. On the table in front of her was her breakfast: a piece of toast and piping hot coffee. Black, no sugar, just like she always liked it. Next to her stood an anxious house-elf, wringing his hands. "Give me one reason I shouldn't kill you right now."

He shivered. "It was a love potion, Daph," he said.

Her wand shook. Her eyes travelled down his body, noting his nakedness.

"Don't lie to me," she whispered, cold fury lacing her voice. "You left me. You married her. Of all people, her."

He fell to his knees in front of her. "It was a potion," he said again. "It had to be. I would never... I could never. Please, help me."

Daphne said nothing. Her wand tip glowed. He closed his eyes, willing to accept whatever she would throw at him, but nothing happened. When he opened them again, her wand arm had dropped and her shoulders had slumped.

"Come with me," she said wearily.

He got up and followed her out of the dining room, wrapping his arms around his chest as she led him to the foyer of Greengrass Manor. They walked up to the fireplace where, even though it was the middle of summer, a roaring fire was burning. He couldn't stop shivering and the heat of the fire did nothing to warm him. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead. Daphne tapped the pictures on top of the mantlepiece in a specific order and, grabbing Harry's hand, walked through the fire.

They came out of the other side into her potions lab and she dropped his hand right away, leaving it tingling with her touch. Revulsion and affection warred within him again, except this time, he wanted to feel the affection and found himself fighting the revulsion. Of course he should feel affection... she was - or had been - his closest friend since they had sat in the same compartment on the Hogwarts Express in their first year.

She touched his forehead and his vision swam.

"You have a fever," she said, somewhat grudgingly. "If it is a love potion then your body is fighting it."

"I..." he slurred and stumbled. She grabbed him, saving him from falling, and steered him onto a rickety, wooden chair in a corner that was too small for him.

"Incarcerous."

Ropes sprung from her wand, tying him to the chair. He felt too exhausted to protest. Her wand flew as she cast several diagnostic spells. As he watched, the wariness on her face shifted to shock and from shock to anger. She uttered a curse but he couldn't make out what she said. His vision swam again and that was the last thing he remembered.

Harry woke up to the light streaming in from the bedroom window and feeling like a weight had been lifted off his chest.

He blinked and rubbed his eyes. A flash of gold caught his eyes. He reached for his glasses and put them on and looked around. Sitting upright on the bed next to him, fully clothed but snoring softly, was his best friend in the whole world. His rustling must have woken her up because she stirred and blinked blearily at him.

"Eughhh," she grumbled and he laughed softly. Daphne was not a morning person.

"Binky!" he called.

The house-elf from the dining room appeared with a pop, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"Master Harry is awake!" squealed Binky. "Oh, Binky is so happy to have Master Harry back. What can Binky get for Master Harry... and for Mistress," he added hastily, seeing that his Mistress was also present.

"Black coffee, no sugar for your Mistress," said Harry, raising an eyebrow at Daphne, who nodded in confirmation. "And..."

"Just water for Master Harry," she interrupted. "Lots of it. He needs to flush that Potion still."

"Binky will get it right away," said Binky. "Just wait until Binky gets his hands on the red-headed harlot who tried to steal Master Harry from Binky and Mistress Daphne, Binky will..."

"Binky!" said Daphne sternly and the elf drew back into himself, tugging his long ears in contrition. While she was not an unkind Mistress, Daphne demanded her elf conduct himself properly, especially in front of company.

"Yes Mistress, right away Mistress," said Binky, disappearing with a pop.

"What is it with you and house-elves?" muttered Daphne, reaching for her wand. She cast several diagnostic spells and they must have come up clean, for she gave a satisfied smile and put her wand back down on the bedside table.

Harry shrugged. "I've stopped fighting it," he said. They sat in an awkward silence for a few moments, neither knowing what to say. Daphne stared at her feet under the covers and Harry pretended to look out the window while stealing looks at his best friend. She was wearing the emerald dressing robe she always wore around the house. Her eyes had bags under them, implying that she hadn't slept very much at all.

Binky arrived with the coffee and water and Harry waited for Daphne to work through most of her mug before screwing up the courage to ask her a question.

"So what happened?" he asked softly.

Daphne snorted, staring into her mug. "I worked 12 straight hours to keep you alive," she said.

He stared at her. "That bad? Why didn't you take me to St Mungos?"

"Why didn't you go to St Mungos?" she challenged.

Harry winced. "Because Ginny could get to me there," he admitted.

"Precisely," said Daphne. She swirled the last of her coffee and drained it. As if on cue, Binky reappeared to fill her mug and vanished again. "They would have let her in because she's your wife. She would've made sure I was kept away. Plus, with the money in your account, she could have paid off the healers and gotten the medical report she wanted. Fat lot of good it would have done though - if she kept dosing you, you would have ended up there again sooner or later. Maybe that's what she wanted. Maybe she just wanted your money."

Harry, remembering how Ginny had clutched the Harry Potter doll as she slept, didn't think Ginny was in it for the money, but he wasn't about to defend her to Daphne.

"Maybe," he said instead. "I've never heard of someone having that kind of reaction to a love potion though. Not even Amortentia..."

"That's because it wasn't just a love potion," said Daphne, staring at her feet again. "It was a strange, hybrid thing I've never seen before - part love potion, part compulsion draught. It's quite ingenious really. A love potion doesn't really create love, it creates an obsessive imitation of love. Even with Amortentia, you would have felt the obsession, but because your behaviour was your own, you would have acted like you were obsessed. I would have seen through it in an instant and so would anyone who spent any more than a passing amount of time with you."

"And the compulsion draught was to make me not act like that?" asked Harry, feeling quite sick.

"Probably," said Daphne. Sensing his discomfort she reached for his hand. "It's like a liquid Imperius. That's why you fell sick too - your magic has likely been fighting the compulsion draught all these years and things finally came to a head. A lesser wizard, one without your naturally immunity to the Imperius, would never get to that point because their magic would just give up control." She squeezed his hand. "I'm sorry Harry, I should have known. I should never have doubted you. I shouldn't have let that slag take advantage of you for three years..."

He waved a tired hand at her. "If not for you, I'd be dead," he said. "Dead or still under her thrall, which wouldn't be living at all. I owe you a life debt."

She touched his cheek. "I thought we stopped counting those years ago."

"So we did," he said with a smile, remembering a conversation they had had in the Astronomy tower, under the stars. "Still, thank you, yet again, for saving my life."

She didn't answer, but she moved closer to him and rested her head against him. The scent of her shampoo - a citrusy, orange smell - wafted up his nose and he had to fight to not bury his head in her hair.

"Do you remember what else we talked about that night in the Astronomy tower?" she asked

It was a losing battle, so Harry settled for leaning his cheek onto her head. "You asked me if there was a girl I liked. I told you I didn't have the luxury to date anyone, not with Voldemort hanging over my head."

Daphne nodded. "I asked you that because I wanted to ask you out."

Harry froze. "And then a few weeks later..."

"... I found out that you had kissed Ginny Weasley in the Gryffindor Common Room. I found out from Malfoy, no less."

He put his arm around her. "I'm so sorry, Daph."

She gave him a watery smile. "I hexed him so badly, he was in the Hospital Wing for a week. Ironically, that probably makes Malfoy the only one who ever knew I felt something for you."

He kissed the top of her head. "Don't talk about Malfoy, not right now."

She nodded into his chest.

They sat in silence for a bit, listening to each other's breathing.

"Do you still, erm..."

She nodded again, not looking up at him. He exhaled.

"Would you, like to, er..." He fell silent.

She raised her head. "Er what?"

"I was going to say date, or even get married," he admitted, "because now that the potion is gone, I can't imagine losing you again. But we haven't talked in three years, and there's still this problem." He raised his left hand which still had his wedding ring on it.

"That," said Daphne with quiet fury, pulling the ring off his finger and tossing it aside, "won't be a problem any more."

Harry gave her a confused look. "I thought the Wizarding World didn't have divorce?"

"Except in case of adultery," she corrected. "Did you know Binky is still keyed into the Potter wards? I recreated the potion Weasley gave you. Binky snuck that into her breakfast that morning. She probably spent all of yesterday frantically trying to bed Malfoy."

"But Malfoy hates her," said Harry, shocked. "She's a Weasley."

"Do you think Malfoy will be able to resist cuckolding you?" asked Daphne. "No, she'll bed him and then the compulsion will force her to seek out Rita Skeeter to tell her what she did. If she's lucky, Malfoy will do the honourable thing and marry her and she'll be trapped in a miserable marriage. If she's not... well, no wizard is going to touch her once the news gets out."

Harry let out a low whistle. "Remind me to never get on your bad side."

She grinned and leaned up to kiss him on the cheek. "You did. I just loved you too much to do anything about it. You do get to make up for it now, though."

He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. "Anything, Daph. Anything."

They stayed in bed for the rest of the morning, cuddling and planning and catching up on the last three years until Daphne fell asleep next to him, holding his hand. And as he lay in bed and watched the sunlight dance off her hair with a feeling of contentment filling his heart, Harry couldn't help but look forward to a lifetime of mornings spent cuddling with his best friend in the whole wide world.

AN: This was a hard one to write. I wrote half of it, but then I didn't like it so I redid it and wrote it out a completely different way. Please let me know what you think. I'm especially interested in whether this came off as too plotty and whether you guys prefer this over the shorter dopamine hits. Your answers will inform my writing going forward.

If I had all the time in the world, the implied backstory of this chapter is one I would really like to write. Harry and Daphne being friends from the Express is really hard to write well, while avoiding the typical tropes and pitfalls of the divergence-from-canon point being that early.