Title: A Week of Love

Word Count: 1990 words

Summary: For seven days, Harry learns the pain and laughter that accompany undying love. The problem is, he's not entirely sure how this love came to be.

Written for: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Challenges and Assignments) forum - Arithmancy Classroom, and the Ultimate Chocolate Frog Card Club.

**Please read, review, and enjoy.**

On Monday, Harry was whispering detailed potions instructions to a bemused Ron, who relayed the information to a frantic Neville - all directed by normal bossy Hermione - when the extremely normal sneering Snape appeared at their backs. Neville let out an involuntary high-pitched shriek and jumped so hard that Harry was shoved into a pile of empty old flasks.

Apparently, some weren't as empty as they'd thought.

Minutes later, Harry found himself under stiff white sheets, spending Monday morning in the hospital wing for potion damage.

If the accident had the unintended side effect of excusing him from the rest of double potions and every other lesson... he wasn't complaining.

But how this differed from his usual maladies was that Madam Pomfrey couldn't cure it. Harry was told to stay the night, then return to Gryffindor Tower and lay low until the potion wore off. As he dozed, he thought he faintly heard the witch curse Fred and George Weasley.

Nah, thought Harry. He'd probably misheard her.

On Tuesday, Harry woke to sunlight streaming in through the windows and a sign on his bedside table telling him to Eat from the tray - he located the tray, and kept reading - and then you may leave. He shoveled down breakfast at rapid speed, then grabbed his wand and headed to the common room. Easter holidays were approaching, but there was a free period that morning, and Harry didn't want to waste a second of it.

When he arrived, Ron and Hermione were waiting in squashy armchairs. Harry dug through his school bag for yesterday's unfinished homework and started flipping through books.

"The Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes Delayed Response WonderWitch Love Potion," said Ron quickly, reading from a scrap of parchment.

"What?" said Harry, distracted. "No, that's not right. I'm not in love with anyone. I haven't got some obsessive crush."

"Mmmmm..." began Hermione, struggling to hide a knowing smile.

"'Mmm'? What does 'mmm' mean?" demanded Harry. He set down a massive transfiguration textbook and folded his arms, knowing some kind of accusation was coming.

"'Mmmmm' means," Hermione began, "then how come you've been spending every waking moment staring at Cho Chang?"

"I haven't even spoken to her since that awful Valentine's Day! You just get some sick pleasure from watching me bring it up and wince." Harry scowled at Hermione, then laughed. "Okay, I have been watching her some. But only to plot elaborate revenge for the worst date ever, I swear."

"Hey, be nice! She's going through tough times. It hasn't been that long since Cedric..."

"Yeah, we know," muttered Ron. They were quiet for a moment.

"So what's the deal with..." - Harry struggled to remember - 'day response love potions,' then?"

"Delayed response love potions, Harry," said Hermione sternly. "And they're serious, it says on the label that they're only to be used in the most dire circumstances. Which I think is rubbish, you should never resort to potions, just win someone over with your personali-"

"Well, whatever," cut in Ron. He looked suspicious; his face was redder than usual and he wouldn't make eye contact. "Point is, this thing'll drive you nuts like all the others, but not immediately. It takes some amount of time to go into effect, only, it's different for every sample."

"How d'you know all this?" asked Harry. Hermione pointed at the obnoxiously pink flask sitting on the table.

"We nicked it from Snape's dungeon after they dragged you out," explained Ron.

"Oh," said Harry. He picked up the tiny bottle and fake-glared at it. "I can't decide whether to be amazed at Fred and George or royally pissed."

"You get used to that in my family."

On Wednesday, Harry was relieved to learn that he hadn't fallen in love with anyone yet. He was not relieved to learn that the entire female population of Hogwarts seemed to know about what had been named "The Potions Incident," and were queueing up to talk to him - the idea being that a conversation would kick-start his love potion, and get girls dates with the Chosen One.

This obviously wasn't the case, but Harry had to suffer through ten such interactions before Ron finally stopped laughing and started yelling at the mob of girls to bloody leave them alone. They did, with great reluctance.

He went to see Madam Pomfrey after lunch, only to be dismissed.

"There's nothing I can do, Mr. Potter. Now hurry off, I have patients to tend to."

Harry returned to his dormitory and promptly collapsed onto his four-poster. There was only so much ridiculous attention a man could take.

On Thursday, the first day off from lessons, it finally occurred to Harry and Ron that someone must have planted the potion in the classroom.

They were stretched out under a tree in the cheerful spring sunlight, watching girls walk by in bunches giggling. Every so often a brave first year would dip their toes in the lake, only to be chased off by tendrils of giant squid fifty feet away. More people had stayed at Hogwarts for the holiday than usual, it seemed.

"...And they must have disillusioned it, or hidden it behind the other flasks, so that Snape wouldn't notice it was there," said Ron, scratching a quill on a rock absentmindedly.

Harry nodded. "Yeah, but why? Who would do that?" He paused, staring at the grounds. "You don't reckon it was one of the girls who asked me to the ball last year, do you?"

Ron looked at him darkly. "I wouldn't put it past any of them."

"Well, I don't even remember their names, let alone what year or house they're in. There's no way we can find them. And I wouldn't want to, to be honest," said Harry, remembering the sixth year girl who towered over him, making his normal height look puny in comparison.

Then Ron looked thoughtful. "I suppose we could ask around, see if anybody knows who did it? Someone's bound to. The girl who did it must be bragging everywhere, saying how she's gonna nab the Boy Who Lived when her potion kicks in."

Harry rolled his eyes, but the first part of Ron's speech resonated with him. "Oh yeah - let's go find Hermione, maybe she could talk to Ginny for us." He got up and headed towards the school, before turning to see his friend still sitting under the tree. Ron had a pained expression on his face. "Are you coming or not?" Harry asked, surprised.

"Maybe this isn't a good idea," Ron said quickly.

"It was your idea."

"I bet Hermione's busy, or in the library, or something," Ron said vaguely, waving his hand. He looked away from Harry, staying put in an unusual fit of independence.

"That never stops you. Mate, it's only Hermione." Harry raised his eyebrows. After ten seconds of silence, Ron cracked.

"All right, all right, I'll tell you. Just be quiet about it." Ron's eyes darted back and forth to make sure that they were alone.

"So, over Christmas she - Hermione - saw me in my room with a bunch of Fred and George's stuff. You know, stuff they'd been testing out for the shop. Skiving Snackboxes and Canary Creams and the lot."

Harry nodded. It wasn't hard to get ahold of Weasley joke products; they were spilling out of every corner of the Burrow. "What's wrong with that?"

"There was other stuff too," Ron said, evading a proper answer.

"Like what?"

"Er - a bottle. A potion." Ron went red.

"Ohhh," Harry exclaimed, realizing the severity of the situation. He was pretty surprised that his friend wanted that sort of thing, and that the twins sold it. But he tried to keep Ron from further embarrassment. "Haha, whatever. I bet lots of blokes buy it, it's no big deal."

"Blokes?" asked Ron, who looked horribly confused. "No, it's always girls who get it. I'm just so hopeless that I thought I'd give it a try. You know?"

Harry was hung up on a single word. "Girls? But why would a girl...?" Harry, who felt even more confused than Ron looked, dropped off.

Ron raised an eyebrow. "What did you think I was talking about?"

Suddenly, Harry realized his mistake. "It was a love potion!" he exclaimed. He felt ridiculous for assuming the worst.

Ron scowled. "No need to shout it out loud," he muttered. "But yeah. Hermione saw it in the pile, so she said something like 'whose is this' and I said 'it's all mine.' She figured it out pretty quick after that. It was awkward, but I think she might have forgotten about it by now. At least I hope so."

Harry finally felt like he understood something. "It was for her..."

"She said she hadn't spoken to Victor for a while. I just thought..."

"Yikes, that's awful. How did I not notice this?" Harry asked, shaking his head. "And why didn't you tell me?"

"Well, I obviously didn't want to say anything. I try not to think about it much. And she's good at moving on and forgetting about things as soon as there's a book in front of her. But she makes little hints, like earlier this week. It's infuriating."

"Wait," Harry said, another thought flashing into his head. "You didn't use it? It was still in Fred and George's room when we left for Hogwarts?"

"Yeah, I expect so. I wasn't going to bring it, not after she saw."

Harry bit his lip hard. "Ron, I think somebody else did."

On Friday, Harry finished his lunch in the Great Hall with gusto, then followed his friends as they sluggishly headed to Charms. But he had walked just twenty feet when Harry suddenly stopped. In the corner of his eye, Malfoy was watching him.

"Harry, what're you doing?" someone called. But he stood there, eyes locked with his second-worst enemy, the buzz of voices around him fading away.

He looked at Draco Malfoy, and although he saw the same blond hair and the same green-edged robes, he couldn't look away. His heart pounded in his chest. His mouth hung open; he started to salivate.

"Harry!" someone yelled. "Snap out of it!"

He felt an arm yank on his, and tug him towards the door - he fought back with a burst of strength, fighting to stay in Draco's presence.

"Merlin," people murmured. "Draco Malfoy?"

Harry heard nothing, paying attention only to the object of his fixation. A large crowd of Slytherins had backed away, leaving Draco relatively alone.

No one noticed Ginny Weasley sneak out through the back door, wiping her eyes with her sleeve.

On Saturday, Harry woke up kicking and screaming in his bed in Gryffindor tower. He had woken not from the pains of his car, but from nightmares. Nightmares that all happened to contain Draco Malfoy in compromising positions. This was only a problem because the dreams ended too soon.

Harry thrashed his way out of bed, but found the outer door locked with some magic that even Alohamora couldn't persuade. He collapsed, rubbing his eyes vigorously.

He had to escape. They couldn't keep him in like this. They were trying to keep him from Draco. They were cruel, so cruel.

Hot tears dripped down Harry's face. He thought they were his friends, but this? This was betrayal of the worst kind. Harry glared at nothing, imagining his former friends dying horrible deaths. Draco would be there, egging them on, and he, Harry, would look at him with adoration...

Harry paused. Was he wrong to want punishment? No, anyone who came between him and Draco deserved his fate.

Content although he was apart from his love, Harry slipped back into sleep, passed out on the carpeted floor.

This sequence repeated many, many times.

On Sunday, Harry ate his Easter eggs in silence, until Ron burst out laughing and wouldn't stop.

"Your face - you were in love with Malfoy - it was bloody hilarious-"

"Go snog Hermione."