I Hate Potions (Completed)

Untitled Part 1

I do not own anything here, it all belongs to JK Rowling because I'm an unoriginal git. Ok. Carry on. Enjoy life, ya pervs.

Harry's eye twitched as he looked over the book once more to make sure he got everything correct. It was bad enough that he had to come back to school after the war and redo his last year but when he saw his grades for Potions and his new teacher regrettably informed him that if he didn't pass the subject this time around, he'd be repeating the year for a third time, Harry couldn't take it. He would NOT be stuck at Hogwarts for another twelve months because he couldn't follow simple instructions from a book that was written decades before he was even born.

"Come on," Harry prayed. "Please be right. Please!"

Harry dropped the last ingredient into the cauldron and swore loudly when the pink-purple liquid splashed up at his face, landing square on his mouth. Almost immediately Harry began to feel the effects of whatever it was he made by accident. His body became hot and his breath shortened. His mind was telling him something, craving something but it was like it didn't know what it was.

"Shit," he whispered.

Hermione Granger was absentmindedly walking past the Potions room on her way to tutor some first years as a way to earn some money with a pile of books in her hand when a loud shout startled her. Curious, she walked into the room to discover an abandoned, smoking cauldron. "Hello?" She called out, trying to locate whoever left the potion out. "Anybody here?"

Harry let out a groan from underneath the table where he had curled himself up into a ball. "'Mione? That you?"

Hearing her best friend's voice, Hermione dropped her books and rushed around to make sure he was alright. "Harry! What happened? I heard a shout! Are you alright?"

Harry shook his head. "I really, really hate Potions."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. The frizzy-haired girl stood up and peered into Harry's disaster of a potion. Not being familiar with the colour or smell, she frowned.

"What was this meant to be, Harry?" Her eyes skimmed over the page of directions Harry had open on the desk. "Please tell me this wasn't meant to be a cure for boils." Harry's silence gave her the answer dreaded. "Harry James Potter! That's first-grade level! How did you—"

Harry interrupted her with another groan. Feeling sympathetic, Hermione sighed and leant back down to look at her friend. Before she could get a word out about taking him to the infirmary to get him fixed up, he said the unthinkable.

"I don't know why, but I have a really strong urge to kiss you right now."

"Harry!" Slap! Hermione's hand shot out and connected with the black haired boy's face.

Said boy groaned, again.

"I think we should take you to the infirmary, like now." Harry agreed. He was beginning to feel feverish and sweat beads were forming on his upper lip. Hermione hoisted the boy out from his corner and he leant into her for support. When they got into the hallway, Harry's mind went into overdrive.

"'Mione, I think I know what I made..." he trailed off. "Because I really, really, want to make out with everyone in this hallway."

Hermione's step faulted. Her mouth opened slightly before she composed herself and quickly dragged Harry out of there as fast as possible. People's heads began to turn to look at the two and the attention, fever and oncoming migraine became too much. Harry passed out.

While he was out, Hermione used all her remaining strength to drag the nearly-an-adult into a nearby classroom so she could go find help.

What felt like hours after, Harry's eyes began to flutter open. "Harry? Are you alright, mate?" A mop of red hair asked cautiously from a fair distance.