Chapter Text
Hermione hoists her bag on her shoulder and heads down to Potions, though it’s the absolute last place she wants to be. Because Ron will be there.
So much for thinking everything was fine between them. She has no idea what spurred on his icy demeanor, and while she’s appreciative of Harry’s warning, it hasn’t done any good to explain what’s really going on. All Hermione knows is that practice didn’t go well last night and as a result, Ron’s been in a right foul mood since he got back last night. She hadn’t expected it to carry on to a new day. Or be aimed at her .
But no, she was the lucky recipient of his death glares and cold shoulder at breakfast this morning, and now she gets to share a table with him and Harry while they listen to Slughorn drone on about the potion of the day. Which is only going to make Ron’s mood ten times worse when his replication somehow goes wrong. Bully for her.
Might as well get it over with.
She scurries into the classroom and notices a small bowl filled with strips of parchment on Slughorn’s desk. Hermione eyes it cautiously but continues on to her seat, wondering if it’s going to affect their lesson at all, or if it’s set up for a different class. As she takes out her belongings, she glances at the chalkboard. Usually, there’s a specific potion written with a list of ingredients so they’re ready to go with the lesson, but today, the board is decidedly blank.
Since her usual routine is ruined, Hermione’s unsure of what else to do. So, she does what will occupy her time the best. Sitting on her stool, Hermione opens her textbook and reads.
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“Good morning, everyone. Good morning!” Slughorn greets as soon as the bell rings. “I’m sure you’ve noticed that there is no assigned potion of the day.” He pauses and waits for everyone to nod or give some form of agreement before continuing. “Well, today I thought we’d have a little fun instead. So, we’ll be playing ‘maker’s choice’.”
“Maker’s choice?” Ron scoffs under his breath.
Hermione shoots him a dirty look. Though she has no idea what Professor Slughorn means, she can’t help the surge of excitement that ripples through her. Today might be the day that Harry will falter. It’s not like there’s a section in the back of the text for made-up potions he can copy. Whatever he has to make will be flawed. Surely, the ‘Prince’ will be exposed after this.
“In this bowl, there are an assortment of categories written on slips of parchment. The luck of the draw will determine what type of potion you will make. You may use your textbooks or any of the materials on the shelves next to the ingredient store to help guide you.”
Hermione can’t help the way her heart begins to thump with excitement. She’s always looking for ways to prove herself, and this could be the breakthrough she needs to get Professor Slughorn to notice her instead of Harry for once. She’s already sifting through different options as the Potions professor continues.
“Bonus points for creativity if you’re daring enough to stray from the recipe itself. After all, experimentation is how new brews are created. Who knows, we might have the next groundbreaking creation of an antidote or remedy that could change Wizardkind forever!
“But I digress. Time is ticking. Come on up and pick your potion so you can get started.”
Hermione hops off her stool and is the first one to the bowl. She reaches her hand inside and plucks out one of the slips from the bottom. Waiting until she returns to her seat, she unfolds the parchment. Memory potion .
Immediately, a plan begins forming in her mind. Suddenly, she’s thankful for the double class today. She’ll need it if she’s going to do a little extra research on ingredients before starting. Jotting down notes and searching through her book, Hermione almost misses Slughorn’s ‘addition’ to the rules.
“One last thing. Let’s make this interesting, shall we?” He waddles around the room, casting a nonverbal spell on each student’s workspace. “Your potions shall remain anonymous. No one but you and myself will know what you are working on. The spell I cast will wear off in the last fifteen minutes of class, where you will share what you’ve been working on. Now, without further ado, let’s begin!”
The next hour and fifteen minutes are a flurry of activity. Hermione’s been so focused on studying the effects of the wit-sharpening potion and a memory recall elixir that she hasn’t once stopped to see what Ron or Harry are working on. Not that she’d be able to anyway.
She places one last drop of honeywater into the pot and stirs ten times when Professor Slughorn grabs their attention. “Alright, everyone, stop what you’re doing and begin collecting your things. I’ll be around to see what you’ve come up with.”
When Hermione looks up, she catches Harry dropping one more thing into his cauldron. It takes everything in her to not shout out ‘cheater!’ He mixes it, then places his wooden spoon down on the table.
Just as Slughorn stated, the invisible barriers protecting their concoctions ripple away. Hermione questions Harry with a furrowing of her brows but he ignores her, gathering a host of ingredients that messy his workstation instead. Professor Slughorn has started investigating the Slytherins’ brews across the room, so Hermione figures she has enough time to put her things away, and perhaps get a whiff of what her tablemates have created while she waits.
But then Harry’s cauldron begins sizzling and bubbling. The sounds catch Ron’s attention too, and they both glance at each other. For a moment, Hermione forgets he’s even mad at her. At least until he scowls and looks away. They both lean forward to peer into Harry’s cauldron.
The sizzling grows louder and a foamy exterior rises up, creating an ever growing layer of bubbles that ebb and flow under the surface. This doesn’t look like it’s going to end well.
“Uh, Harry—” Ron calls for their best friend just as Hermione attempts to get Professor Slughorn’s attention.
But before either of them can finish, one of the massive bubbles pops, sending a sheen of reddish-purple potion flying in their direction. It catches both Ron and Hermione all down their fronts, and Hermione’s sure a full glob got in her mouth. There’s an overwhelming taste of rose and peppermint, which is not a good combination.
She raises her arm to wipe her mouth on the sleeve of her robe as Ron spits out whatever caught him instead. Once she’s convinced she’s gotten all of it out of her mouth, another bubble pops and more contents go flying, making her repeat the process all over again. At that point, Hermione’s had enough.
“Harry, will you do something about your potion before the entire thing explodes?” she cries. It might be dramatic, but at least she also gets Professor Slughorn’s attention in the process.
“Oh dear, oh dear, what’s happened? Harry, m’boy, this couldn’t possibly be—” He glances down at the parchment in front of Harry’s cauldron then at Ron and Hermione. His face turns a horrid puce color as he summons a vial, places some of the liquid inside, and stoppers it. After placing an unbreakable charm on the glass, he vanishes the rest of the potion.
“Miss Granger, Mr. Weaselby, I think it will be best if you both go straight to the Hospital Wing. Tell Madam Pomfrey what happened, and that I’ll be along shortly.”
“The Hospital Wing?!” both repeat back with shocked expressions.
Slughorn holds his hands up. “Just as a precaution. I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about.”
But the telltale quiver of his eyebrow implies anything but.
Hermione shakes her head as she shoves her books in her bag. “With all due respect, Professor Slughorn, I have a full course schedule today and I can’t miss anything. I’ll fall behind! Besides, I didn’t ingest any of the potion. I’m sure it’s—” But as she starts to head toward the door, she feels some resistance and Ron falls off his stool.
“Hey! What was that for?”
“What was what for? I didn’t do anything!”
“Yeah, you did. You somehow pushed the stool out from under me.”
“How? You can’t be serious! If anything, you pulled my bag to prevent me from leaving. Not sure why since you’re—”
A loud sigh from the Potions master cuts her off. “That’s what I was afraid of.”
“Afraid of what?” Ron asks.
“Certain ingredients are never meant to interact. Odd side effects can occur, which is what I believe may be happening here. Now please,” he pauses to scribble something on parchment and hands it to Hermione. “I must insist you head straight to the Hospital Wing. Give this to Madam Pomfrey. I will have Harry go over everything he put into his potion and will be up shortly to explain further.”
With that, he shoos the two of them out of the room.
Great. Just great . This is all she needs today. To miss classes and be stuck with the one person who wants absolutely nothing to do with her. All because of Harry’s stupid potion.
No, not just any potion. A made-up potion. No wonder Slughorn is sending them to Pomfrey. But she feels fine . Surely, if there are any questionable side-effects, she’d know by now, right? Could there even be any? It’s not like she swallowed the potion. She’s fine. Perfectly fine.
Fine enough to just go to class instead. If she starts feeling weird, of course she’ll ask to see Madam Pomfrey, but why should she go now when nothing is wrong?
“Here,” she hands the note to Ron.
“What? Where are you—”
Hermione ignores him, stalking off in the other direction without an explanation. But she only makes it about four steps before something snaps her backwards almost violently. She crashes into Ron with more force than a slingshot. He somehow manages to catch her, his eyes wide as she’s pressed up against him, hands on his chest like she’s stuck there or something.
And oh, does it feel good. Too good, perhaps, considering the dirty looks and snide remarks he’s given her all morning. The reminder snaps her out of the daze onset by Ron’s proximity and she steps backward, staring at the ground.
“What was that?”
“I…don’t know.”
Maybe she should go to Madam Pomfrey. Even though she doesn’t feel any different, something is very, very off.
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“Experimental potioneering? As sixth years? What were you thinking ?!” Madam Pomfrey berates Professor Slughorn as Ron and Hermione sit on one of the hospital beds, awaiting further instruction.
“Directions were clear…list of incompatible ingredients in the text…honest mistake…” Horace mutters.
Madam Pomfrey throws her hands in the air and paces as Professor McGonagall stands between them. “As much as I agree with Poppy’s remarks, it is obvious that there is nothing we can do about it now except monitor for symptoms and wait for the effects of the potion to wear off. Horace, what did you say Mr. Potter was attempting to create?”
Once again, Professor Slughorn’s face turns a horrid shade of red—almost identical to the color of Harry’s potion. Fumbling with the parchment in his hand, Hermione can’t help the dreadful discomfort that fills her core.
“This ought to be good.” Ron’s utterance only solidifies her worry.
Slughorn hands the parchment to McGonagall, whose eyebrows shoot straight up to her hairline. “Oh, dear…”
Madam Pomfrey leans in, also observing the parchment. “For Merlin’s sake! What in Godric’s name would have possessed him to—on top of their current state and now we have this to worry about too?”
Hermione clears her throat. “With all due respect, we’re sitting right here. And aside from being unable to step more than a few feet away from Ron at any given moment, I feel fine . So, clearly, whatever Harry made must have been faulty—”
“I don’t think that’s helping,” Ron cut in, then looked up at the adults. “Are you going to tell us what he made or are we just going to have to sit here and wait to see if something happens?”
“Well, er—” Slughorn stutters.
For the life of her, Hermione cannot understand why he won’t just spit it out.
Madam Pomfrey finally takes over, rolling her eyes as she snatches the ingredient list from McGonagall’s hand. “The type of potion does not matter, especially if neither of you are feeling any different from it.”
“Then why are we—” Hermione starts to ask, but Madam Pomfrey continues.
“You are seemingly attached at the hip because Mr. Potter chose to add a Jobberknoll feather to a potion that already contained Ashwinder Eggs. Those two ingredients should never mix. When they do, they bond chemically in a way that creates an invisible string tying the recipients of the potion together.”
“So, we’re literally stuck together?” Ron asks.
Hermione bites back a whimper. “For how long?”
“It’s hard to say. Jobberknoll feather aside, the potion itself usually lasts around thirty-six hours before the potency wears off, but I’d like to monitor you for seventy-two. Just to be safe.”
“Seventy-two hours?!” They both cry in unison.
“There’s no antidote you can give us?”
Professor McGonagall shakes her head. “Given the instability of the Ashwinder and Jobberknoll combination, it’s too risky to attempt an antidote. Especially if you both aren’t showing any other side effects.”
“But what are we supposed to do about our classes?” Hermione pouts.
“Yeah, and Quidditch. Professor McGonagall, the match is—”
“Saturday. Yes, I know, Mr. Weasley. That gives more than enough time to let the potion work its way out of your system.”
“But I didn’t even ingest it,” Hermione says with utmost certainty.
“No, but it got on your skin, and probably seeped into your bloodstream that way. The particular potion Mr. Potter was making can be altered to use as a drink or a salve, and since it was in its original state—”
“—it can affect us both ways,” Hermione finishes. “Ugh, I’m going to kill him.”
“Not if I do first,” Ron grumbles.
“I’m sorry this is not ideal, but we must remain cautious.” McGonagall eyes them curiously before attempting to reassure them. “However, since you are not showing any signs or symptoms as of yet, I do not see the harm in allowing you to attend your shared classes so you don’t fall too far behind. Assuming Madam Pomfrey approves.”
The healer nods, thinking for a moment before adding, “I would also hazard a guess that you may dine in the Great Hall for meals, provided you do not try to move too far apart. Any attempts at separation could prolong the effects.”
Of course it would .
“You will be required to stay here overnight for…obvious reasons.”
It takes everything in Hermione to keep her face passive and impartial while her insides are screaming. Surely, Madam Pomfrey isn’t implying that they—but where else are they supposed to sleep if they can’t be too far from each other?
“Fine,” Ron obliges.
Well, if Ron’s on board, I should be too…right?
Not that she has a choice. She stands and puts her bag back on her shoulder, all while managing to sneak a glimpse of the list in Pomfrey’s hand as she asks, “What about Ancient Runes and Arithmancy? Should Ron come with me or…”
“Ugh, Hermione, please don’t make me.”
Professor McGonagall’s lips twitch in what Hermione thinks is a tiny smile. “I will inform Professor Vector and Professor Babbling that you will be excused this week, though I think some sort of compromise on the matter wouldn’t be out of the question.”
Hermione nods and Ron rolls his eyes as Madam Pomfrey waves her wand and gives them both a once over before sending them off to their next class. As they trudge down the halls toward the grounds for Herbology, Hermione tries to take McGonagall’s words to heart.
“I’d like to attend at least one of my classes this week. Do you think you can manage if we go to Ancient Runes today and Arithmancy on Wednesday?”
“Whatever.”
Whatever? Just ‘whatever’? Hermione wants to scream at him. He’s not the only one in this situation. They both are. So, it’d be great if he could just be a little kinder while dealing with it. Even if he is mad at her for whatever unknown reason. Is that too much to ask?
As much as she doesn’t want to be the bigger person here, she makes one more attempt before giving up. “Look, I know you don’t want to miss practice this week, and I’d go with you if I could, but—”
“Do you really think I’m that heartless to make you get on a broom so I can still practice?”
“What? No, I—I was just saying—McGonagall said to compromise and—”
“It’s fine. I wouldn’t want you out on the pitch anyway. You’d probably get hurt. Just, I don’t know, don’t make me spend every night in the library, alright?”
Even though Ron’s talking to her again, Hermione doesn’t feel any relief. There’s still a bitterness to his tone and he feels more closed off than usual, which she doesn’t understand. It’s not worth arguing over right now, so she resigns to his request.
“I won’t. Though, there is something I want to check later. I managed to see the list in Madam Pomfrey’s hand, so if Harry won’t tell us what he made, then I’ll figure it out myself.”
“Fine, but only if I get the honors of hexing him first.”
“Deal.”
“Great. Glad that’s settled.”
“Me too.”
Though she has no idea how long they’ll be stuck like this, Hermione is sure of one thing. These are going to be the longest three days of her life.