Title: Love Potion #14
By She-Who-Is-Not-To-Be-Psycho!
Summary: A "What if…", non-cliché, canon version of the Love Potion fanfics: an insight by Severus Snape. Valentine's Day Special. Notes: This should have happened in Harry Potter's 6th year; there're no spoilers from HBP
Rating: +16 to be safe
Pairings: Harry/Draco, Hermione/Ron. Starring: In-Love-With-Herself Pansy
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter world, books or characters. JKRowling does.

CHAPTER ONE: The Unwilling Drinker

"Rose petals, Apple, Forget Me Not pollen, Lovage, Ashwinders' eggs," would start Snape that one fateful class. "It should be bleeding obvious what these have in common."

Snape passed by Hermione's raised hand while his eyes focused on Neville. "At least, the brightest of you should get it... and other such lucky guesses."

Rumors have been on it since the early morning. The giggling girls would gossip and the most of the normal students would be skeptical. But then there they were; Snape was standing before the class, the chalk inscription in the blackboard reading Love Potions.

"Due to the dangers of the upcoming Valentine's Day and of possible intoxication, the staff believed –" This had Dumbledore's name all over it, "that it would be instructive the students were assisted in the knowledge of how a love potion would taste and feel like."

Most students were now edging off their seats in expectation.

"It will be tested on you, though it is, of course, not necessary because I could tell if such an insultingly easy potion was right by its intense red color. For a better understanding, let's begin with a lecture of the study of the variety of Love Potions."

Said students fell back into their chairs with mute disappointment.

"There are three branches of love potions, one more dangerous that the one before. The first, the acception of which is the usual taken when we think of love potions, is the Aphrodisiac, otherwise known as Lust Potion. If you posses half a brain you will reason out its use. It's self explanatory, Longbottom."

Neville cowering on his seat, Snape continued. "Conceptually, some love potions make you co-dependent and therefore could fall under the category of Dark Magic. Also, those use blood of the person to-fall-for and the drinker must be constantly fed of that same blood, as in vampirism.

"This potion should be called Love-Slaving Potion or Imperious Love Potions - ILP. This is the second kind of Love Potion. In some wizarding governments, ILP poisoning is considered a punishable crime. Graciously, ours is one of those governments."

Trademark Snape's evil smirk of satisfaction insert here.

"Imitative Potions, also self explanatory. Often, this kind works with the drinker's perception, such as... love at first sight." The words came though gritted teeth. "Those are very few and Merlin forbids I let you engage in any kind of random choosing of partner... fret not. We are intensifying the choosing with a couple of hairs from your partner. Taste is more assertive than sight.

"Possibly the least of the three evils, this last is; the Imitative or Loving Potions:

"You cannot increase further affection in degrees or levels. In opposition, Aphrodisiacs only increment existing attraction; sometimes a very powerful lust that causes short-term memory lost... However, the duration of the affection in the Loving Potions can be strictly manipulated at will – of the brewer's, that is – in contrast with the other potions."

Proudly having managed to even make a class such as Love Potions into a boring, excruciating mental process for the alumni, Potions Master Severus Snape proceeded to make the dreaded announcement, "Now, in pairs."

The instructions appeared on the board.

"The kind of Love Potion we are going to experiment with today is the last. Anything more powerful is sickeningly sweetish, so, don't worry; you will be able to tell." Snape's eyes glinted strangely. "True, hormones can be fought with the least of self control, but I don't hope lots of you have it...

"The moment ILP touches your lips, it won't make a difference you recognize you have been poisoned as you would have by then lost all use of reason and free will." The information produced shivers of dread while he stared impassively.

Draco Lucius Malfoy sneered disgusted at the attitude of the class. Love Potions (even if not spoken his very thoughts sounded as if he meant to spit the word with spite.) They should not make such ado about that. He expected no other response from Pansy, but so were things in the Slytherin fraction of Hogwarts. It was... Pansy.

The girl herself was a real ambivalence. For a start, she had surprised Draco with an initial attitude of disinterest, "but it's not real love, so I don't see the fuss in that." However, her interest was obvious. A scary glint came to her eyes and she was devoted to her reading of the textbook.

"Draco, did you know? The Potion has no effect on those already 'caught in infatuation with the affection-target'," Pansy repeated, visibly marveled.

"Of course, isn't it obvious?" Draco drawled loudly, put out to be interrupted mid-joke he was sharing with Crabbe about a certain group of Gryffindors that sat close to them. Pansy nodded, "Now I think of it, it's rather logical."

She smiled and went back to work. Stress on "smiled". Something was definitely amiss in this whole ordeal.

"The marking of this assignment will be worth half the year points."

Snape was decided to make of this class something unpleasant.

As you guessed, Draco Malfoy worked on that fateful class with Pansy Parkinson as partner. Draco had not put it too much thought into it. Not in the start. But then some thoughts started to disturb him.

Love Potion #14's effects were powerful but subtle, and they lasted short --for a period of one hour as they would be adding just one Rosa Reina petal to the mix, so, about the length of the class. Draco was rather confident to perceive the effects the potion would have on him. It was not every day you felt like snogging somebody's face off in Malfoy's life. And, judging by Pansy's everyday expression, this was what being in love was about.

As he set the cauldron with the flame at its highest, adding cinnamon and apple juice to the red wine, Malfoy grew edgy. Draco had a good deal of self-control he prided himself on. A self control, in fact, that he would rather not publicly lose...

"It's mistaken as an Aphrodisiac, but if you were seeking to capture the person's attention as the drinker, a Beautifying Potion would be best. The sensation should be as if a surge of hot lava was licking your interior. Like Unctuous Unction, it creates feelings; it allows you to believe something."

"Ooooh!"

Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil were an avid audience to that class' lecture like never before, taking notes as if it was Divination we were talking about. Right now, they paid close attention to Hermione. And, it might not be as apparent, but a couple of Slytherin girls were as attentive.

"The spice and the spark are volitional ingredients when together, so now be careful when mixing, it can cause some adverse reactions," Hermione was telling them. She seemed to like the change of attitude over one of her trademark lectures.

Snape made no attempt to regain authority over the class or censure Hermione. Right. He was relieved not to have to be explaining those things himself. But back to the story.

In the Gryffindor side of the classroom, Hermione agreed to give a little of her hair to Harry, Neville and Ron for the benefits of the study.

Harry had already decided he was not going to add the hairs to his potion. You know, he'd never get in between Ron and Hermione. Many reasons were for him to take such a noble stance. First, they were rather perfect for each other. Second: potential loss of friendship.

Third and most important: because, when it came to their love-hate relationship, they became... capable of vicious murder. Harry had something against jeopardizing the integrity of his persona over an induced love triangle, so meanwhile he pushed his attention to his illegible scrabble:

Imperious potion, only brewed under the full moon, veela hairs, nutmeg... Aphrodisiac, increases existing hormonal activity, strawberries... Loving Potion: red wine, seven rose petals, frozen ashwinter eggs...

Draco, suddenly, really didn't want to be love-stuck with the squealing Pansy. One after the other, the boys started to act like monkeys, desperate to get some spotty girl's attention. They cursed each other and blushed and stammered. It looked like a vicious trap – a cruel, sadistic trap.

Thus why he was attentive to ways to sabotage a potion. Any helpful tip from Granger's speech... Anything. It never came. As it was, he will not be adding any hairs (no harm in a void potion.)

Such a plan was conjured at the time he heard the clipping sound of scissors passing by his ear – Pansy had just now cut some strands of Malfoy's hair and hers, the heck!

He straightened his face and tried not to show the flow of emotions taking place right now. (Emotions that worked like a tiny voice in his mind saying, 'Do not show panic; they smell the fear!') In fact, he turned away when the uncomfortable feeling of shame and claustrophobia that had crept to his facial complexion, threatening to exteriorize.

That's it. He'd just throw the hairs away.

His fist closed around the hairs and he moved it under the desk. But as he did, his gaze landed, or was drawn unconsciously even in times of such agitation, to a figure across the room. Smirk. A plot formed in Malfoy's mind. Telling Pansy he was going to look for nutmeg, hands in pockets, Draco went pass that figure and nonchalantly dropped the blond hairs in Harry Potter's cauldron.

He was received when back by a broadly-beaming Pansy who had added "more" of her own hairs to his potions ('cause, you know, she felt it has not the right shade of red). And now Snape joined them to check their work. Pansy was watching him like a hawk.

"Excelent, Mr Malfoy," said Snape in his cold, acid voice. "It looks like an Outstanding. It's reassuring to have the odd serious student within all the incompetence."

Malfoy's smirk was pronounced. Both equally smug faces were drawn to the eyes he knew were on him… But, as fast, Malfoy felt a clapping and a squeal, and turned, almost with panic, to Pansy who had almost jumped on her seat in enthusiasm, "Bravo, Draco!" And a cold sweat ran down Malfoy's spine.

He had no choice but to drink. He knew it, reached this point. A perfect potion, in times like these, he almost wished he was not so undeniably talented. Anyhow, perfect grades could not be wasted. Malfoy pulled a straight face as, with imaginary doom background music, he filled the stupid vial and... here goes nothing...

He could tell there was a change (predictably, he was not feeling very loving of Parkinson just before). It was... an annoying feeling on the pit of his stomach; a burning sensation, hot... a lovely metaphor of gastrointestinal acid.

He could barely stop himself from jumping three feet on the air when he felt a hand rest on his leg... and start moving... and caress him... and the eyes of Pansy staring at him lovingly and that bubbling sensation...

Draco, at first, was speechless, unmoving, and his mouth fell open. Next...

"Get your filthy hands off me, Parkinson!"

Harry was startled into choking on his steamy, purplish-red drink.

For the love of bloody Merlin! Did he have to publish it in howlers?! Harry had not yet met who to be bloody interested in the private aspects of Malfoy's personal life. But what the Daily Prophet did of Harry's without his consent, Malfoy would willingly let circulate. Oh Harry would have liked to take a more active reaction than glaring.

Call him ticklish but this class had not gone well as it was without the unmistakable sound of Malfoy's voice filling his ears. Don't get him wrong, Ron was his mate and best friend. But at times like this one would rather punch him in the freckled nose.

"Don't look at her like that! You too, Harry—"

Harry turned to his good mate Ron. "I wasn't even looking up from my parchment!"

"Well, good!"

As evident from our previous example, Ron got angry and suspicious of the stares others were giving Hermione. Harry's first sip was wary – not of the potions effects, but of what we will call "Ron Effects". Neville had gone second, drinking the potion that is, and he duly paid for his dreamy expression.

Hence why Harry would be watching Ron's reaction as he drank, until, well, the point where Malfoy's shouted that.

Stupid prick.

Surprisingly, Neville in fact became more courageous in speech. (A surprising question of "Uh, what are you doing after class, Hermione?" had all but Ron gapping, the latter answering for her, "She's going to study! Back off!")

Back to our conversation, Neville spoke up, "I wasn't looking her way either, Ron –"

"I SAW you look!" Ron rejoined.

"What about you, Ron? You stop looking at her!" bit back Neville.

"I'm not looking at her like you do!" Ron retorted defensively.

"You are looking the way we are looking!" said Neville.

"No, I'm not!" Ron said with an offended frown. "Neville, I told you to stop staring!"

"Oh, please, Ron."

It did not take long before Hermione got uncomfortable under the stares and started to regret her generousness. As they bickered, Harry's attention moved back to the Slytherin wing of the classroom. It was something he had become used to do, his ears perked at the sound of Snape's addressing Malfoy – maybe it was his way to perceive the challenge in their voices, what was that they would say this bloody time? What completely infuriating thing could they come up with?

But in this case, it was about quite a different matter. Harry turned back to the Slytherin soap-opera with what was more like a feeling of curiosity...

In "Malfoy Wizarding Days", today: Pansy's face flashed confusion, surprise and hurt; Harry felt the tiny spark of pity in his chest. Fast as it came, the expression was replaced as soon in her face and she looked like she had found a new respect for herself. Cold, bashing respect.

"I can't remember why I'd do that," she said, switching her attention to the next thing. "Pay me no attention."

Harry stared, incredulous. He was not the first and only. Crabbe and Goyle stopped fighting for the love of Tracey Davies to "huh"... and "huh" again. Seamus was distracted from his gloating as Lavender praised him, both by Malfoy's outburst and Pansy's putting him on place. Even Snape stopped aiding Theodore Nott to appear by Malfoy's side, stopping, of course, to glare on Harry's way as if this all was his fault.

Malfoy was proudly glaring at them; proudly pink with embarrassment and returning to Pansy.

"Indeed, you wouldn't know!" he blurted with outrage. "Have you lost your mind for exposure to all that hairdryer?"

Behind them, Goyle gave a snicker, as it was common after Malfoy delivered an insult – something he must have learned to do out of reflex. Malfoy, well, despite the change of subject to insult, welcomed Goyle's laugh with a self-proud smirk...

"So, I've heard the witchy weekly products are going bankrupt because they can't cope with the high demand," Malfoy continued, "What happened, Pansy, had a pimp and had to use all of it on yourself?"

Tentatively, Crabbe joined in a bit of laughter.

"But of course, I should let you know, not all the hair and beauty products in the United Kingdom can do much to fix your face. What happened, a Transfiguration spell gone wrong? Or Bulstrode has been giving you beauty tips?"

The two goons laughed in unequal periods, the rest of the wing was silent. Well, even Millicent was probably in too much of a shock to crack her knuckles threateningly. As for the Gryffindor wing, Lavender and Parvati giggled and ow-ed, and there was Harry Potter, gapping.

"Are you looking at her though a reflection?" paranoid!Ron asked Harry just as he noticed one of the members of the group was not really looking Hermione's way.

"Huh, no, mate," said Harry unable to pray his eyes from the Slytherin interaction.

Ron had gone so silent Harry felt compelled to turn to him at last; the sight that greeted him was that of a pale-looking Ron, his mouth gapping open.

"W-what?" asked Harry, suddenly edgy. Ron grimaced as if in pain now, and groaned.

"You drank the potion then... it must mean you..." He groaned again.

It took several minutes for Harry's eyebrows to shoot up in understanding. "No, Ron, you are wrong—"

"Do you think I want YOU!"

At that time Malfoy chose to loudly sneer for everybody to hear.

"I don't want to get into this conversation," said Pansy. "You should enjoy a caress; now I think about it, you never seemed to think them invasive before," analytically noted in response a disinterested Pansy to the ever vicious Draco Malfoy. And it wasn't in the usual polishing-my-nails nasty way either.

"From you? No, thanks!" He was looking at Pansy down and up in a depreciative manner, a look Harry knew well – it made his blood boil! "I don't remember ever enjoying a caress! Whoever said I'd ever wanna touch you!"

"Harry, you should have told me! You-you are a bad friend!"

"Huh, what? Ron?"

"You too, 'mione! You probably knew, hiding this behind my back!"

Drawn from watching the Malfoy-Pansy domestic argument, Harry was torn. Torn between pity on his best friend's pained expression and wanting to strangle him dead. Neville was defending Hermione heartedly. Hermione was in the middle bickering at Ron for being such a prick, and growing emotional (that is to say, hysterical) was it not for the shock of Neville aiding her.

Amidst the bickering, Snape had the look on his face that read, 'I knew I was getting myself into chaos itself.' And he looked like he swore upon Laverne de Montmorency's dead carcass. Oh yes. Love potions are trouble.

Professor Snape left the classroom just before the bell signaling the end of the class, the sound drawn by the same hysterical ruckus. In the given circumstances, Harry moodily picked up his text books and rose to leave with the threesome behind. As he did, he passed by the very same couple of Malfoy and Pansy – when he did, it turned into 'following', in fact, as he was curious to see what was going on between those two.

Malfoy did not regard the eavesdropping figure of Harry until he was finished with his current bashing to the indifferent ears of his ex, "Oh look at me! I'm Parkinson and 'cause I'm blond everyone should knee too me! Look, I'm Pansy-I'd-get-in-anybody's-pants-'cause-I'm-so-full-of-myself-Parkinson!"

At which time he spotted Potter.

Malfoy's frown became a growing smile and Harry raised an eyebrow in response. "Problems in the household?"

Malfoy caught up with Harry, bringing the unconcerned Pansy along by the wrist.

"Hey, Potter, don't you have something to say to Pansy here?" Oh, Draco almost wished he had pulled this joke on Pansy and not on Potter.

Harry, temple numb in a glare, regarded the two in turns. "Yes. Welcome to my world. Now you know how much of a git – you are."

Pansy snorted while Malfoy's face transformed with rage.

"Such affectionate words, I'm sure it touches her heart. Well, welcome to my world you too, Potter." He pushed Pansy towards the other boy, and mocked, "Now look at you! You're so obviously made for each other."

Harry huh?-ed. Pansy whined, "I don't really need to be in a relationship, do I?"

"I'm not thinking of starting one myself, thank you!" Potter agreed quickly, edging away from her and the implications.

"Yes, you do!" decided Draco, fast, frowning and bewildered. "What's wrong with you?!" A few microseconds of no response were before Malfoy added, "Pff, shows what a pathetic attempt of a potion you can produce."

As if offended, Draco walked away from them both down the corridors.

Sideways and uncomfortable, Harry eyed the person by his side. Pansy hadn't moved from her place watching the retreating figure of Draco Malfoy. It was quite unusual for Pansy not to swoon over Malfoy. Harry Potter knew it, the Slytherins knew it, the Wizarding World knew it! So it must all be a fake, Harry decided. She was probably heartbroken by his rejection but bravely wouldn't show it. It almost made one... feel respect for her.

Harry hesitated, and with a sigh, decided pity was stronger than him. "Pansy?" he started, "Er... Look, if you want to come over with me, Ron and Hermione...?"

Pansy turned around, her expression so cold it shook him. "Why would I want to do that?" she asked incredulous and grimacing, before turning and leaving by herself.

Harry huh-ed again. It was a dreadful realization to note he was becoming as eloquent as Crabbe and Goyle. Frankly, this was more than he needed to grow a headache. And only now he remembered he wasn't a fan of soap-operas, too.

He would have loved that had been the last he would need to see of the Slytherins for the rest of the day.