Potions and Plotting

Chapter Two – Potions and Plotting

"You're going to do what?" Snape asked incredulously. "Have you lost your mind?" Only previous experiences with the blinding headaches caused by the Amorata if they quarreled too loudly caused him to moderate his tones.

Hermione sighed inwardly. "Think about it, Severus. It separates the two. Once I'm Soulstruck, Bill can break the physical part of the compulsion. Then I can drink a Mens Sana potion to complete the cure after I'm restored. Soulstriking didn't exist when Borgia modified the Amorata potion. It should work!"

"I was right," Severus told Gingersnap. "She's lost her mind. Entirely." Then, to Hermione. "Do you truly, honestly, think that I'm going to allow myself to be Soulstruck again? You have no idea what it was like!"

"I don't see any other way," she grumbled in reply. "How else can we separate the two pieces of it?"

"We'll come up with something else," he answered. "Anything else. We have time to work on it. In fact..." He leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling, absentmindedly petting the kneazle who purred and then fell asleep in his lap. His book lay forgotten next to him.

Hermione knew that he'd had the glimmering of an idea, and he'd voice it when he was ready and not before. She picked up her periodical again and found her place. If nothing else, she could Floo Harry the following day and discuss her idea with him.

"Everything we've tried has been thwarted by the interaction between both parts of the compulsion," Snape said half an hour later. "The mental part of the Amorata works on emotions, would you agree?"

"Yes, I think that's obvious."

"Then I postulate that a double-strength Heliax potion might suffice to suppress emotions to the point where a curse-breaking spell could remove the physical compulsions. Then a Mens Sana potion, taken after the Heliax wore off, would complete the cure."

Hermione opened her mouth to tell him that it wouldn't work, and then thought about what he'd said. "We've got both potions on hand. We really should get Bill to teach us his curse-breaking spells so we don't have to keep bothering him."

"Agreed," Snape replied, shifting the kneazle to the sofa and rising. "I will send Mr. Weasley an owl and arrange a time for him to meet us."

~*~

The following morning, Snape strode into the Great Hall for breakfast in an uncharacteristically good mood. For the first time in far too long, he felt that there was an honest chance of breaking the compulsion of the Amorata potion. Taking his usual seat next to Minerva, he speared three slices of dark pumpernickel bread and began coating them with a thick layer of Marmite.

"You appear somewhat mellow this morning, Severus," the Headmistress said as she buttered a scone. "Does teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts agree with you so well?"

"I refuse to be baited until after breakfast," he replied. "But to answer your unasked question, o' curious one, I've had a thought that may allow me to complete my current research project."

The other staff members were trickling in and sitting down with their morning tea or coffee according to taste as he spoke. Minerva had made it clear that she preferred for the entire faculty to be present at meals. This display of unity encouraged similar behavior in the students. Poppy Pomfrey made a beeline for the empty seat next to Snape, getting there three steps ahead of Harry Potter. The Quidditch coach caught Snape's eye and rolled his eyes before sitting down on the other side of Madame Pomfrey. Hermione came in and sat down next to Harry.

The mediwitch gave Snape's breakfast a disapproving look. "Is that all you're going to eat, Severus? You're far too thin." She patted his arm.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Poppy, you've been saying that since I was fifteen. I like pumpernickel with Marmite for breakfast." He carefully removed her hand from his person squelching a desire to wreak havoc.

"It's not healthy!" She was going to say more, but Harry distracted her with a question about renewing the Cushioning charms on broomsticks. With a silent sigh of relief, Snape turned back to the Headmistress who smirked just slightly at him.

"It's really not funny anymore, Minerva," he said quietly. "In fact, it's becoming downright annoying. Isn't there anyone I can foist her off on?"

Minerva carefully brushed the crumbs from her muffin into a neat pile. "If I think of something, I'll let you know." She cleared her throat, catching the attention of the entire table. "Just one brief announcement. I received an owl last night from the board of governors confirming Professor Snape's appointment as Deputy Headmaster." She smiled and returned her attention to her breakfast.

~*~

"I'm going to murder Poppy," Severus announced that evening as he threw his teaching robes into the hamper. The mediwitch had managed to sit next to him at all three meals that day, and made disparaging comments about his choice of food. At least she'd kept her hands to herself for lunch and dinner.

Hermione laughed as she set a dish of sardines on the floor for Gingersnap. "Is it just me or is she getting worse? I thought you were going to have an apoplectic fit when she patted you this morning."

"She's getting worse. At least it was just my arm she touched." His white linen shirt followed the robes. "I wish I knew what she saw in me! I'd remove it post-haste!"

"Poppy has a mother-complex, Severus."

"A what? Is that a Muggle term for being a congenital pest?"

She went over to him and pushed him gently into his favorite chair, enjoying the feel of his skin under her hands. "She took care of you for so many years, she feels in some ways like you're her son," she explained. "At the same time, she recognizes that you're not her son and that you're a grown man and she's attracted to you in that way as well. The two attractions are all mixed up with each other, much like how the Amorata works."

Snape gave her an evil grin and pulled her onto his lap. "I wonder if I can get the house elves to spike her meals with Heliax."

"That actually might be a good idea," Hermione replied. "Once she's able to view her actions rationally, she may be able to control them better." While she spoke, she traced the heavy black stubble on his jaw. "You forgot your shaving charm this morning."

He exhaled slowly, the tension in his neck and shoulders easing. "Mr. Weasley replied to my owl. He said he can come this evening if we're both available, but otherwise it will be several weeks – apparently Gringotts is opening up new branches in America and he is required to be there. I told him tonight would be fine." He rasped his fingers along his chin. "I'm thinking of letting my beard grow out."

"Tonight is definitely fine," she said. "While I enjoy your company, Severus, I hate the idea of being made to enjoy it. What time is Bill coming?" She traced his jaw again. "I think you would look dashing with a beard."

"I suggested 8pm in my reply," he said. "And I spent my free period this afternoon brewing up a double-strength batch of Heliax. It's in the cabinet in the lab along with the Mens Sana." He shifted under her. "And if you keep doing that, we will be late."

"It's your fault for tossing your shirt in the laundry," she replied. But she took the hint and rose. "Do we need anything else?"

"Luck is fickle. Let us hope for success."

~*~

The Crystal Dragon was closed for the night. Growling under his breath, the man turned his back on the pub and headed for Diagon Alley. He could get a drink in the Cauldron even at this unholy hour. Slamming open the door, he took a seat in a corner and began drowning his sorrows with the bottle of Firewhiskey that Tom brought him.

Some time later, he was aware that he was no longer alone at his table. Another man sat there with him. A wizard. This one made no offer of conversation but simply matched him drink for drink, even paying for a second bottle. Halfway through the bottle, the wizard looked over at him rather owlishly. "I should let you know who you're drinking with. I'm Aberon McGaven."

"Macavity Leech," the other man replied. "Heard your name somewhere, but can't remember where."

"Probably best," McGaven replied. "I'm not well liked."

Leech snorted. "Know that feeling, I do. I usually don't drink here. Too many people know me."

"But the Cauldron is always open," the wizard said glumly. "I know. I don't usually drink here either." He took another look at the man. "I've seen you before."

Now Leech raised his head and looked at McGaven carefully. "Yeah, I know. I worked for Minister Fudge until he died. You came 'round to his house a few times."

"I remember that much," the wizard muttered. "They Obliviated me, you know. The Wizengamot. I know I did something terrible, but I can't remember what."

"There's times I'm grateful for being a Squib," Leech answered. "The Wizengamot didn't have much use for me when they investigated the Minister's death – just a few questions and then thank you very much. Now go find another job. Ha! Not many jobs for Squibs."

"How did the Minister come to die?" McGaven asked softly. "No one would tell me."

"It were an accident." The Squib drained his glass and refilled it while gathering his thoughts. "See, he got himself another servant some months back. A man named Sisyphus. Old Sissy – that's what I called him – was dumb as a brick and mute. I think he was a Squib too. Fudge treated him like a house-elf, always ordering him around. Anyway, the night he died, the Minister went out and took Sissy with him. Didn't tell me where he was going, not that he ever did. Said he'd be back late." He swallowed. "Next thing I know, the Aurors come by and tell me that Sissy had accidentally tripped him and he broke his neck in the fall."

"Accidentally?"

"That's what they said," Leech replied. "I've wondered if Sissy just got tired of being treated bad. Fudge never treated me like that in all the years I worked for him. Haven't seen Sissy since then, and I'm guessing the Aurors think the same thing and put him somewhere they can watch him."

"Wouldn't put it past them to do just that," McGaven said a bit sourly as he refilled his glass. "That damned Obliviate spell turned my life upside-down. I lost my job because of it apparently, and I can't find a new one. They took nearly six months of my life away. Six months where I can't remember anything."

"Huh." Leech scratched an ear thoughtfully. "Listen, McGaven. When Fudge died, he left his house and everything in it to me. There's a lot of magic stuff that I can't use locked up in the cellar. The Aurors didn't bother with it when they searched the place. I was going to sell it all, but I don't know what it's worth. I don't even know what some of it is. But you might. You could at least make a better guess. If you help me get a fair price, I'll split it with you."

Interested in spite of himself, McGaven asked, "What sorts of things?"

"Lots of books, a couple of cauldrons, a set of scales, and dozens of jars of I-don't-know-what."

"Sounds like a research lab." The wizard propped his chin in his hands. "I used to do research for the Ministry. I'll come take a look and see what you've got there."

They shook hands to seal the bargain, and agreed to meet the following evening.

~*~

The headline for the Daily Prophet the next morning read as follows:

Lucius Malfoy escapes from Azkaban!