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Match the quote to the story title:
For Someone Special by ladyofthemasque
A Choice of Roads by imhilien WIP
Soul Searching by Quillusion
The Harlot's Potion by yutamiyu
Looking for Magic by hypnobarb1 WIP
A Yuletide Draught by valady
Libidinis Furoris Potionis by Corazon
The Christmas Rose by subversa
Walk Through the Fire by wonderfulchild aka wonderfulwrites (abandoned)
Contraceptus: Continuum by ariadne1
Heart over Mind by regann
Before the Dawn by snarkyroxy
1. It was not until he had managed to stack his mountains of students' work into four serviceable piles that Remus spoke again, something mischievous in his amber-flecked eyes which made him look years younger. "Speaking of Miss Granger," he began, as if there had been no lapse in conversation. "I heard that something odd happened with her during class this afternoon."
"I didn't realize that you were so concerned with Miss Granger," Snape responded, not pausing in his perusal of the book he held. "I thought that honor lay singularly with Mr. Potter."
"What happened?" Professor McGonagall asked anxiously, the paper she had been grading forgotten. "She's not injured, is she?"
"Calm yourself, Minerva," Snape sighed. "Your precious protégé is alive and well."
"Then what happened which was so odd?" she questioned.
When Snape made no answer except an annoyed sound in the back of his throat, Lupin explained. "Harry came to me after class," he told her. "It seems that the seventh-years were working on love potions with highly coercive properties today in Potions."
"You mean, the hayam potion?" she deduced.
"The very same," he affirmed, nodding so that his gray-threaded hair swung loosely around his face. "And Hermione wasn't affected….at all."
"Wasn't….affected?" McGonagall, who had been leaning forward in anticipation of the tale, settled back against the high back of her chair, a pensive look of pleasant surprise on her face. "How unexpected."
If Severus were awake right now, he'd see the glow from the cauldron of the Virgo Curato over my bare shoulder. I've let the coverlet slip just a little to give him a glimpse of breast when he wakes up. We might have completed the ritual, but the night is most definitely not over. I have expectations he needs to live up to.
Not that he hasn't managed to live up to my expectations, so far. I know he was worried that he wouldn't be able to postpone gratification long enough to complete the ritual. He certainly did manage to hold off his own and see to mine. I wonder if the magic in the ritual is responsible for the last part? I've always heard that the first time was supposed to hurt. I was uncomfortable at first, but it didn't take long to get caught up in things. A Severus induced orgasm is ever so much more satisfying than one from the vibrator. A big part of my enjoyment was in knowing that he was enjoying it so much.
We did it!
We completed the Virgo Curato ritual and the small cauldron on the bureau contains the most powerful healing potion ever invented. In the one thousand years since Salazar and Anne Slytherin created it, perhaps fifty couples have been able to replicate it.
Severus and I did it!
After we caught our breath, Severus got out of the bed and spooned a little of the potion into a glass vial. He was starkers and I must say that he has a very nice arse, which I made a point of admiring as he walked across the room. He doesn't seem to be very self-conscious about being naked in front of me. It must be a guy thing.
Severus brought the vial back to the bed so we could look at it. It is the rich emerald green of the highly effective version of the potion. Lighter colors reflect a couple who hold each other in affection, but are not truly, madly, deeply in love. The deep color can only be created by a couple whose love is genuine and lasting.
It is a real life expression of our feelings that no one will be able to deny. When we give the vials to the people we care about, they will know that it means we truly love each other. If they don't, I'll be happy to explain it to them in detail.
Perhaps not all of the details.
3. “Snape,” Voldemort all but hissed. “You left Our presence without our bidding!”
Oh, how Snape hated that royal ‘We’ the vile blowhard liked to use when he was at his most formal and intimidating. “Master, I have a boon to beg of you.”
One nearly invisible brow raised slightly on that too-smooth, too-pale face. “Speak. If it pleases Us, you may survive Our displeasure.”
“I left to fetch this, Master.” Snape unfurled the hand clutching the medallion-shaped phial. “With your permission…I wish to use it on the girl.”
“What is it?”
For a moment, Voldemort almost looked uncomfortable; Severus guessed the git didn’t have a clue what he was talking about. Then again, Veritamoria was extremely rare; this one phial had been secreted in the keeping of a distant branch of the family for decades, if not centuries, before a great-aunt in her dottage had unwisely decided that her great-nephew, the grand Potions Master of Hogwarts itself, deserved to inherit the treacherous brew. As far as he knew, no one in all of the British Isles outside of his mother’s side of the family even knew what the potion was, let alone how to use it properly.
Voldemort affected a face-saving sneer, hiding the fact that he didn’t know what Severus meant under a layer of sarcasm. “And that is important, how…?”
“It is a variation on Veritaserum. A…humiliating variation,” the Potions Master of Hogwarts added silkily. Miss Granger’s screams stopped, but only because the Death Eaters didn’t want her to pass out. Her panting and moaning filled the silence of her brief respite.
4. He waited for her to leave, forgetting entirely that it was her flat he was standing in, clutching her ridiculous shoe.
He waited for the sharp sound of her hand striking his face where it had rested, so gently, moments before.
But she only smiled sadly at him.
"Nine months it takes, I believe, to achieve full potency?"
He nodded, his eyes raking her face for his dismissal.
"Made with my hair?"
He hesitated for a long moment before nodding again.
"Ah," she said simply.
She couldn't know that those nine forbidden, full-moon nights were the only solace he'd known.
5. “Hermione, I’ve found you – you know when we were talking before about how it would be great knowing who would be the best guy for you?”
“You mean Harry or Ron?” Hermione asked, hoping that her friend wouldn’t mention the ‘crush’ Professor Snape supposedly had on her.
To her relief Lavender didn’t.
“Well, when I was at Divination before, Sybil must have been reading my mind because she showed us her ‘Balm of Romantic Foretelling’ that would give us a glimpse of our ‘romantic future with our boyfriends’ or of possible futures if we had ‘many suitors’. I asked to take a little bit of it and she said yes!” Lavender said happily. Lavender prided herself on her close friendship with the overly-dramatic ‘seer’.
“Does it work?” Hermione said in fascination despite her thoughts of the Divination teacher, who in Hermione’s opinion spent so much time in the clouds with her airy-fairy ways, crystals and incense it was a wonder she could walk on the ground at all.
Lavender blushed. “Yes – it only lasts for a few minutes. When I tried it I found myself in a house with David."
Hermione smiled inside at her friends blush, for David was Lavender's boyfriend and Captain of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team.
Lavender continued. "We were having a romantic dinner for two and I could tell we were, well, happy.”
By now Hermione was intrigued. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if this ‘balm’ really was a way that could give her a glimpse of a future life with Harry or Ron?
“Can you show me how it works?” Hermione unashamedly begged.
Lavender readily sat down on the stone bench besides Hermione, opening the pot to reveal a small amount of pink salve inside that sparkled in a peculiar way.
“What is it made of?” Hermione said curiously, peering down at the salve. It had the sweetish smell of jellybeans about it, which probably was to be expected from something concocted by Sybil.
Lavender smiled mysteriously. “I can only say that it is said to contain the essence that goes into the creation of time turners.”
6. “Drink this,” he said, offering the glass. Hermione looked between Snape and the glass, thinking that he was mad if he thought she would ever drink anything he handed her.
Snape scowled. “It’s whiskey. A Muggle brand. It is the only sedative I can give you that won’t make you sleep for another twenty-four hours or react badly with the Incendium.”
“The what?” Hermione said. The name raised a hazy memory, something she had read somewhere she was sure, but it wasn’t strong enough to grasp. Whatever it was, it didn’t sound pleasant.
Snape’s eyes narrowed and he all but slammed the glass down on the table beside her. Whiskey splashed over the rim, sloshed across the table and dripped onto the carpet. Hermione shied away from his sudden burst of fury.
“Pay close attention, Miss Granger,” he snarled, as if she had asked him if werewolves were dangerous on nights of the full moon, “because I will only explain this once. The Dark Lord has seen fit to reward me for my actions last spring and Bellatrix Lestrange convinced him that you would be an appropriate reward, no doubt as an insidious and multifaceted form of revenge for usurping her place with the Dark Lord. She also convinced him that giving you the Incendium Draught would be adequate insurance that you would not escape, or if you did, that you would not live long enough to benefit from it.”
Hermione stared at him. A reward? How could she possibly be a reward? Unless…
Her horror must have shown on her face, because Snape sneered at her. “Yes, I see you’ve come to the correct conclusion and that we are of the same opinion on the matter.”
“What… what does it do?”
“Oh,” Snape smirked. The cruel smile he gave her was little more than a snarl full of crooked teeth. “Something you haven’t filed away in your overactive brain? Then look it up. Here.” He pulled a book from a shelf and practically threw it in her lap. Hermione saw that it was Moste Potente Potions. “I’m sure you are familiar with that title. Read up on the Vacuum Draught while you are at it. You were doused with that, too. I would make you write an essay, except you would turn in twice what I ask and I refuse to grade another of your longwinded essays ever again. So, let’s say an oral report, with specific reference to how the Incendium and Vacuum will interact, due by tomorrow afternoon.”
Hermione was incredulous. “You’re giving me an assignment?” she asked.
His eyes narrowed again in that dangerous way. “Did I stutter?”
7. “My finest work,” she basked. “What did you want to know?”
“To begin with, of what is it concocted?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“I would care to brew it. There are potions that are in neither my books nor my mind, and you seem to have stumbled upon one.”
“It would not matter, Severus,” Bellatrix interjected. “You could not possibly brew it.”
His shoulders tensed; could she possibly think that she knew more about potions than he? “Why would you say that, Bellatrix?”
“It can only be brewed by women,” she replied simply. “Surely you wondered why the Dark Lord did not approach you to brew it?”
“Then consider it a nod to my intellectual curiosity,” he offered. “Perhaps I can alter it so you can re-dose Potter’s mudblood.”
Bellatrix pondered his proposition for a moment before nodding. “I will contact you with the formula in the next few days,” she stated.
Snape lifted his chin; his next line of questioning would have to be trod carefully. “Why is the Dark Lord targeting such a useless mudblood as Granger?”
Bellatrix’s resulting grin was cunningly fiendish. “Severus?”
He continued, voicing the thoughts that had passed through his head several nights previous. “To get close to Potter. But that insufferable girl is intellectually strong--as she persists on reminding me in class--surely Weasley would be easier to control?”
“We have no female junior Death Eaters,” she replied. “Who would dose him? Besides, Granger is indeed mentally strong--she will be an asset to our cause.”
“Who dosed Granger?” he risked.
Bellatrix smirked. “Severus, I am surprised at you. Surely you know how our master works. I simply brewed the potion; my duty ended there. I handed the vial to our Lord, who passed it on to someone else. I assume our master told the boy I had brewed it, for he approached me at the meeting--in full Death Eater attire; isn’t it a wonderful sight, Severus? So young! And so loyal!--and informed me that the potion had failed. That is how the Dark Lord works, Severus, as you must very well know. The right hand doesn’t know what the left is doing. You know only what our master deems you need to know.”
Snape stood, readying to leave, when her hand on his arm halted him.
“I am certain our Lord would be pleased if you brought her to the next Revel.” Her voice was deadly velvet. “I am certain he has already issued the order to the junior Death Eaters.”
8. Hermione looked around, noted Snape was still busy tending his potion, and plucked a text simply entitled Moonfillies from the shelf. Fascinated by what Snape had told her of the creature two nights ago, she flipped through the pages until she reached the chapter on human interaction, and read:
Moonfillies are notoriously shy of humans and avoid most of our species at all costs. The creatures are, however, exceptionally perceptive of human emotions, and can sense guilt, pain and shame. There have been documented accounts of moonfillies endearing themselves to humans with a strong aura of these emotions. If the moonfilly believes the human worthy of redemption, they will seek to help them overcome their pain by offering friendship and their own unique healing assets.
Her conversation with Snape on Saturday night made sense now. She’d thought long and hard afterwards on how someone as harsh as the Potions master would be recognised as friend instead of foe by such a shy creature. I have an... understanding, if you will, is what Snape had said about his association with the moonfilly. The creature obviously sensed the darkness in his past and, like perhaps only Dumbledore and herself, thought him to be worthy of a second chance.
She continued reading, until she heard a movement just behind her, and a moment later Snape’s voice said, “I wondered how long you’d be able to resist the lure of the books.”
She closed the book and turned around to find him smirking lightly, but as he glanced down at the book in her hands, his face darkened.
“Interesting choice,” he commented.
“I wanted to find out more about them,” she said, “after our conversation the other night.”
“And what did you find out?” he asked coolly, taking the book from her hands and replacing it on the shelf.
She furrowed her brow in confusion at the sudden hostility. “I didn’t have the chance to read much,” she murmured, and not wanting to aggravate him any further, attempted to change the subject.
“Can I ask about the potion you’re working on?”
He nodded and returned to his chair in front of the fireplace, banishing the cold contents of his teacup and refilling it as Hermione sat across from him.
“As you probably know,” he began, “the Dark Lord finds me useful for my potions skills as much as my closeness to Dumbledore. The latest task I have been assigned is to create a potion to replicate a curse the Dark Lord particularly favours.”
“Cruciatus?” Hermione felt her blood run cold as Snape nodded.
9. Tears of sorrow began trailing down her face. Hermione felt her heart break into a million pieces. Could the Fates be that cruel? Was she now destined to live her life alone, with no one she could call her own? At one time, she had harbored feelings for this man, but she had thought it was just a schoolgirl crush, and when he died, she had mourned greatly for him. Now… only now she discovered that he, Severus Snape, was her true love!
“What in the name of Merlin…”
She gasped as she heard his voice. “You can see me?” she asked.
“Obviously, you little twit! What are you doing here and how did you find me?” he asked in his stern teacher’s voice that she knew so well.
“I… it was… but you’re dead!”
“That does not answer my question, Miss Granger. Shall I repeat myself?” Severus said, angered and concerned that after all these years his sanctuary was being invaded.
“I took a potion.”
Hermione hesitated to answer; he seemed just a horrid now as he did when he was alive. It wasn’t as if she had known whom the potion would reveal, though deep in her soul she knew better. “Adfirmo Potio, sir.”
He appeared stunned, his infamous eyebrow rising to heights she had never seen it reach before.
“What are you doing brewing such a complex potion? You must have done something wrong!” he snorted.
Hermione was indignant. “I did NOT brew it wrong, and the reason I brewed it is entirely my own.”
“Not when it affects me, Miss Granger! You disturbed my peace, and I demand to know why!”
Tears were still falling down her face as she looked at him in all his self-righteous anger. “I always thought you were brilliant, sir; surely you could think of why someone would brew such a potion,” she said, her voice now heavy with melancholy.
10. Ron and Ginny had been pale and shaken when they gave us the news; Molly's mediwitch was quite concerned that things had sped up considerably. Molly had an illness known as Starling's Countercurse, and it was a late- appearing complication of one of the charms that had been required to stop Molly's considerable bleeding after Ron's birth, which had been a difficult one. The Starling Charm- named after its creator, in an uninspiredly Muggle fashion- was very good at controlling blood flow and temporarily redirecting it away from damaged areas until reparative charms could be used to correct the damage.
Unfortunately, it was also known to infrequently (and intermittently) reactivate long after its initial casting, causing uncontrolled redirection of blood flow and subsequent damage to whatever organ whose blood supply it interrupted. Molly had had several small strokes as a result, and her memory was beginning to suffer; if this alone were not enough, she was developing several large patches of necrotic skin. In all the years since Ron was born, she had only had one incidence of the reactivation, which had been far from unpleasant as it had reduced one of her periods to a scant six hours. But in the last four months, she had had seven reactivations, each one occurring at a shorter interval than the last. Her mediwitch was very concerned that the accelerating pace of the illness was going to cause failure of something critical, and soon.
Ron, in particular, felt horrible about his mother's illness, because it was his birth that had indirectly brought it on. Nothing anyone- including Molly- could say would assuage his guilt, and I was surprised beyond speech at my acquisition of a new study partner, who spent even more time in the library than I did: Ron Weasley. It had been Ron's research that had produced the information about the Cleve Potion.
Originally intended as an antidote for and potential repellent of the Unforgivables, the potion had not lived up to its designer's hopes. It had done little more than dull the aftereffects, as it is apparently overpowered and nullified by the application of a powerful charm or curse; the power surge seems to reduce its effectiveness to nearly nothing. Its ingredients make it so difficult to brew as to be extinct in all but books, but those same books suggest that it might make an effective agent for reducing the effect of lingering curses or as a palliative for the discomfort that follows the survivable Unforgivables. Ron is betting that it could end the lingering effects of the Starling Charm.
I think he is right, which is why I am now taking out my wand and hastily composing myself to cast the ward keys. Softly whispering the words I had heard Snape use earlier, and tracing my wand as I had seen him do, I pray as hard as I can to whomever might be listening that this will work.
To my shock, it does.