Soulsavers

Severus

"Tell me how you brewed it, step by step," Severus instructed, and watched as Barty recited the recipe perfectly, imitating chopping with his hands every now and then. He noticed that Hermione had come out of the other room and was watching them with an odd expression, without saying anything.

Not only was the recipe correct, Severus had no idea what mistake might have led to the result he was seeing. "Where did you get these chocolates?" He asked, in a last-ditch effort, and Barty said some posh-sounding name Severus had never heard before. "So... not Honeydukes? And you're sure it's just chocolate? Nothing that could have interfered with the potion at all?"

"Charbonnel is a muggle confectioner," Barty said with his head in his hands. He must have figured out Severus had no clue what had happened. "I wouldn't have risked mixing it with anything from Honeydukes."

Chocolate, even the regular kind, had magical properties, but none that would interfere with a love potion. In fact, chocolate truffles were commonly used as a method for disguising all manner of poison - many people found them hard to resist, and associated them with good intentions. Severus was at a loss, and he had no idea how long he had before he had to admit it. A stern expression could only take him so far. Clearly, he had underestimated the man.

"It's a favourite of the royal family too, don't you know! Barty always thinks of everything! Without him, Harry never would have won the - but of course, that was the idea, wasn't it?"

They looked at her, and then at each other. Severus was in a bind - he had accepted money for a service he could not provide. "Someone must have given her something else, Crouch," he speculated.

"What else have you had to eat or drink today, Hermione?" Barty asked her, and she dutifully began to trace her steps.

"I was crying in my dormitory, thinking of Van Gogh and my mom and dad - oh, you won't know who he is - and then Astrid showed up to make fun of me and..."

Severus stopped listening - he’d heard footsteps. The other two did not notice: Barty was too focused on whatever Hermione was babbling about, as though she could be trusted to tell what year it was, in her state, and Hermione, well... could not be trusted to tell what year it was. Barty hadn't summoned Severus to help him with her excessive vigilance.

Sure enough, Pettigrew turned up. That was strange - he usually flanked his friends. They couldn't have sent him alone. This had to be some sort of ruse.

"So you think someone gave her a babbling draught or something?" He squeaked.

"Why the sudden urge to be helpful, Pettigrew?" Severus demanded.

"I just wanted to say that - it was me. I gave it to her as a joke. Okay? Do you believe me?"

"It's not as biting as some of your gang's previous attempts at humour, but I wouldn't put it past you, either," Severus replied. He wondered if Barty would still let him keep the money, and deflated. Severus could definitely forget about the other 15 galleons now.

Pettigrew scurried away. "Don't listen to him, I would never trust him. Besides, he didn't give me anything!" Hermione said.

"She'll be fine, it'll wear off soon enough. She'll be back to her coherent, if still insufferable, self, before long," Severus reassured Barty, hoping he sounded commanding enough that Barty would forget he was ultimately useless.

"You don't think she'll ever go out with me again, do you?"

Severus did not want to dignify that with an answer. A love potion, honestly. Never mind that it was reprehensible, what was the long-term strategy here? To keep her on it until they got married? Could Crouch Jr. not find someone who would put up with him without it? And if he can't, what chance do I have? But he banished the thought from his mind. He found himself slightly uplifted. After all, she was going to be okay. If this was the worst Potter's minions could come up with by way of punishing her for cussing at them in class, perhaps it meant it would be safe for her to be seen around him.

"You might have had a better chance before you drugged her. If you want my advice, try something more subtle next time you like a girl. Such as... asking her out. You need to escalate to a love potion, you see."

"Just take her back to her room safely, okay?" Crouch said, and left the room with his head bowed. Rarely had Severus seen anyone looking so defeated. Well, outside of a mirror.

"Severus? Can you do me a favour?" Hermione asked, sounding much more like herself. She did not wait for him to answer. "Do you think you could, uh, forget everything I said? I've clearly not been myself."

"You don't say anything worth remembering at the best of times," he replied. Why must I always be such a bastard? She must be feeling dreadful. Fortunately, she seemed not to mind. In fact, she seemed relieved. Infuriating woman. "Come on, I'll take you to our dorms."

Hermione

She had the world's worst hangover. Or, not really. The physical symptoms of a hangover were much unlike those of Amortentia - she had a headache, but only from trying to make sense of what had happened and to remember if she'd said anything too incriminating. Fortunately, she had sounded ridiculous enough that nobody paid her much attention, and Peter Pettigrew had even turned up with a plausible alibi for her. James must have asked him how she knew about his rat form, and he must have told James he had given her a babbling draught, and it was only a coincidence that I called Peter a rat of all things, and - well - James trusted his friends, we know that...

She also felt extreme sexual frustration, and lewd images of Severus, both the teenager and the adult (and Barty - that potion was powerful) flashed in her mind. But one thing she had said seemed worth saying, even now that she had her wits about her again.

Barty could still be saved, and to the best of her knowledge, he would still be alive in the worst sense of the word in 1997. She had made no headway with Severus at all, and she needed a victory.

Barty

To say that the Dark Lord had suggested Barty use a love potion on Hermione was not entirely accurate. Barty had not disclosed his infatuation - he did not consider himself so important as to bother the Dark Lord with tales of his love life.

But secretly, for years now, he had been reading the pamphlets that had been circulating in Knockturn Alley. He had crouched in the corner when the Dark Lord's supporters spoke at the Hog's Head, and in increasingly legitimate establishments as time went on. Sometimes even the man himself would show up at Hogsmeade, though it was a rare treat. Barty had known for years he wanted to join his forces, so he paid attention.

"Dumbledore," the Dark Lord had once said in a speech, gesturing toward Hogwarts, "is teaching our children that love is the greatest power. Love, a force replicable by any wizard worth his salt. I am here today to tell you what he does not want you to hear - love is not enough! Getting anywhere takes action! Determination! You are too smart to be taken in by comforting ideas!"

Barty had been inspired, and he remembered the speech. And when the Dark Lord had agreed to meet with him in person, months ago now, and promised Barty he would be a valuable member of the Death Eaters, that his insider knowledge of the Ministry would be useful, and that it would not be held against him when the Ministry was toppled over, Barty felt, for the first time, that he could be loved by someone other than his mother. And now, he wanted Hermione.

So he took a risk. What a colossal failure. He’d started working on his NEWTs before other students started on their OWLs, and he forgot to account for the possibility that she might have eaten something else that day. You would think he had not spent interminable evenings with Moody as a guest in their house, explaining in painful detail how he managed to avoid this kind of trap. So often, it had to do with food. At least he had made her promise she'll go out with him again, but surely that did not count. Perhaps if you apologised hard enough...

She could always be found at the library.

He spotted her sitting at a lone table, looking fine - thank Aleister - and dropped the note he had written in her lap.

"Barty, wait," she said, before she could read it.

"I don't think I'll ever love you like that. I'm sorry. But it doesn't mean we can't be friends, right? If you promise you'll never do anything like that again?"

Well. That was easier than he'd expected.

"No, never."

"Good," she smiled at him. "Those chocolates were divine, though. It's a shame I had to vanish the whole lot."

He promised to make it up to her with a new, potion-free batch, and left. He had lost all hope of going out with her in earnest, after all, and at least they could still get closer as friends, and later on... who knew.

Only then did it occur to him to wonder how she knew about his plans to follow the Dark Lord, or why she seemed to disapprove. With the fear of repercussions gone from his heart, he also remembered, with a winch, that she had confirmed his fear: she was in love with Snape. Of all people! Barty had never paid much attention to Snape, and certainly never worried about him as a romantic rival. The man might have been cleverer and wittier than Barty had expected, but he still had a reputation for something of a loser. If only Hermione had turned up a few years ago, she would have known better.