Amortentia

Chapter 8

He woke up early, and decided to get up anyway, the sooner he started the day the sooner it left. He changed into his robes and got his books together, sitting downstairs near the fire, reading Quidditch Though the Ages, a book all about famous quidditch players and stuff. The book fascinated him, he’d read it at least a thousand times, Greg was the one who bought it for him. There were footsteps down the steps, shockingly early, it had to be at least five o’clock, breakfast started at seven. John turned to see Greg, holding both of their broomsticks.
“Thought you might want to go on a ride.” He said with a smile. John smiled back, Greg knew exactly what he needed, a little quidditch. They carried their brooms to the quidditch pitch, the grass dewy and the air chilly. Winter was coming for sure. When they got in, John breathed in the familiar scent of the pitch, his comfort place. The ground was hard as he mounted his broom and kicked off, soaring through the air and the mist, weaving and twirling. The wind in his hair and his face was just what he needed, to leave everything, including Holmes, behind him. Greg flew next to him, racing the best he could, but his Nimbus 2000 was still faster than Greg’s cleansweep. Eventually Greg dismounted and threw rocks for John to catch out of the air, practice for when he was chasing the little golden snitch. He didn’t miss a single one, no matter how far away; they always ended up clutched in his palm. When seven o’clock rolled around, John dismounted and, smiling and breathing heavy, they walked back to the castle. When they got there they went straight to the Great Hall. The halls were still deserted, but breakfast had probably appeared already. When they got inside of the doors, there was only one person in the hall, the only one who had even said he ate breakfast really early, Professor Holmes. John tried to ignore him as he sat down; covering the floors with wet grass, and put his broom on the floor next to him. He loaded eggs and potatoes onto his plate, eating slowly and keeping his gaze at the other end of the hall. They sat in silence, the clatter of their forks on their plates echoing around the empty hall. John heard footsteps behind him and turned to see Holmes sit next to him on the bench, as if they had been friends forever. He hoped Holmes couldn’t hear his heart beat beside him.
“What are you two doing here?” Holmes asked.
“Flying, since we’ve been so occupied at night.” Greg answered.
“You’re Gram right?”
“Greg.”
“Oh.” Holmes’s hair was sticking up a little bit, a bit of bedhead which John found adorable.
“What are you doing here then?” Greg asked.
“I don’t like eating with other people.”
“Yet here you are.”
“I’m done eating.” Holmes pointed out.
“It’s almost time for tryouts, so we have to be prepared.” John said the first words he’d spoken.
“I’m sure you’ll be fine, you are captain so you have to make it.”
“Yes.”
“I don’t know much about quidditch, I never really went to a match.” Holmes shrugged.
“Well maybe you should come to one.” John suggested, getting his confidence back.
“Maybe I will.”
“The first match is three weeks from now, Gryffindor verses Slytherin.”
“Should be a good game then.”
“What house were you in?” Greg asked, joining the conversation.
“Ravenclaw.”
“Did you play quidditch?”
“No, I can’t fly or throw or catch, so it wasn’t really the sport for me I guess.” Holmes shrugged.
“Have you ever flown before?” Greg asked.
“Yes, but I broke my arm.”
“Well, I’m sure the team captain will be willing to teach you if you wanted to.” Greg said. John looked at him quickly, but he wasn’t protesting.
“I’d probably break the broom.”
“Not if you’ve got a good teacher.” Greg pointed out.
“If it’s something you want to learn to do, if not it’s totally fine, flying isn’t for everyone.” John said quickly.
“I guess it would be good to try again, maybe not yet though, I’m awfully busy.” Holmes said.
“Ya, me too, but you know, whenever.” John said quickly.
“I don’t know if I have Gryffindor today for potions, so I’ll see you tonight I guess.” Holmes decided.
“Oh, ya, forgot about that, I hope I don’t blow us up again.” John said with a nervous little laugh.
“You’ll be fine, I’ve got to go, people are starting to come, see you two around.” Holmes said, and leapt from the bench, walking swiftly down to the teacher’s entrance, his robes sweeping behind him. Once he was gone, John looked back at Greg.
“Did you just ask him out for me?” John asked.
“Not officially, but he did say yes.” Greg pointed out.
“How am I supposed to teach him to fly?”
“I don’t know, just teach him!”
“Oh, that’s really easy!”
“He broke his harm the first time, he looked terrified of flying, but he’s going to because you’re teaching him.” Greg pointed out.
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying he might like you too!” Greg said.
“Of course he doesn’t, he said he didn’t like anyone.”
“Maybe he didn’t then, you didn’t like him then, but now it’s different.” Greg pointed out. A group of first years ended their conversation, so they walked up the steps to drop off their brooms.
“Remember, he’s a potions master, he could have given you some sort of love potion or something, is there anything completely impossible about him?” Greg asked once in the common room. John thought for a second.
“He smells like my mom’s kitchen, which is the best sent in the world.” John remembered.
“That has to be some type of potion then, trying to impress you, we have a little time, let’s go to the library and see what we can find.” Greg suggested. John smiled; maybe there was hope for the two.
“Whatever you say, love expert.” John laughed. They headed out of the portrait hole and to the library, which was completely abandoned. Madam Pince, the librarian, who strongly resembled a vulture, was dusting the books off with magic at her desk. She watched them suspiciously, but they said good morning and headed to a section were there were potion books. They found a particularly big one, containing many potions, and pulled it off of the shelf, setting it on the nearest table and searching under the category love. There weren’t many, but Greg pointed to one victoriously.
“There, Amortentia!” He read the little caption. “When drunk, the drinker smells like someone’s favorite smell, linking them to the other’s happy memories. This potion is extremely hard to brew, but once made it creates the allusion of love.” Greg finished, and John’s smile was wide with hope.
“He must like you too!” Greg said.
“That’s amazing!” John cried, a little too loudly because Madam Pince shushed them from the counter.
“So he was making Amortentia so you would like him.”
“So I only like him because of the potion.”
“Definitely not, you’re so in love.” Greg assured.
“It’s weird when you put it like that.” John defended, but his smile didn’t fade. Professor Holmes must like him back, for some reason, and now Greg had asked him to go on a date with John. Well, not really a date, but close to it.
“Why is it weird, you’ve got a chance? Just think of Jim’s and Irene’s reactions!”
“Just think of Dumbledore’s reaction.” John sighed.
“Dumbledore doesn’t have to find out.” Greg said. John looked at him with disgust.
“So you want me to have a secret relationship with a professor?”
“Assistant being the key word here.” Greg laughed, mimicking John’s words from the other night. John smiled, he could work with that. When they were walking to their first class, History of Magic, John and Greg explained to Sara and Mike what they had found out. Sara looked happy, yet disappointed, she had obviously had a crush on Holmes, but nothing compared to John. Mike was still trying to take the whole thing in; it had surprised him so much.
“So he likes you back?” Mike asked.
“Apparently.” John said.
“And you’re going to teach him how to fly?”
“Yes.”
“With two brooms or one?” Sara asked with a small smile.
“Shut up!” John defended. “This was not my idea, it was Greg’s.”
“I’ll make sure the broom cabinet is accidently locked.” Greg assured. John groaned, but he still had a smile on his face.
“You guys are mad.” He decided.
“At least we aren’t going on a date with our professor!”
“I’m not either, and he’s an assistant.”
“Whatever, same thing.” Mike said. The day was miserable; all the bad classes were in a row, ending miserably with double Herbology. When dinner finally rolled around, they were all exhausted and covered in mud from the plants, which had been some type of root that looked like a baby, mandrake. John ate as fast as he could, saying a quick goodbye to his friends, and rushing out to go down to potions again. When he got there he heard two voices, Holmes and Snape. They seemed to be arguing about something, so John, ever one to ease drop, stood next to the wall and pressed his ear against it.
“Just because you’re an assistant doesn’t mean you do my entire job!” Snape yelled.
“We made an agreement, I’d do after class, and you’d do regular class.” Holmes defended.
“But you’re taking control of class, walking around and doing my job!”
“I’m not doing your job, you sit at your desk, so I go around and help.”
“This is impossible, John Watson has failed almost every potion I’ve assigned, and suddenly he aces one of the harder ones?”
“Yes he did, with a little practice. It’s his partner that messes him up; alone he is very good at potion making.” Holmes defended.
“How would you know?”
“Because I was the one that helped him, and he’s coming back after dinner to get more help on one, so if you don’t want him to hear us arguing then I suggest you leave.”
“I’m seeing the headmaster about this, you’ve obviously been helping him.” Snape hissed. John realized he must be leaving, but too late, the door flung open and Snape saw him standing by the door.
“I’m warning you Watson, if you’re cheating I will find out.” Snape hissed. John nodded and backed into the classroom, shutting the door behind him with fear.