Search Home Read Write Forum Login Register
A/N: For the sake of the story, let's imagine that one can be cured of the effects of Amortentia by consuming someone else's love potion.

"Professor Lupin?" Harry was crouched in front of his bedroom fireplace, trying to grab his former teacher's attention, but the man seemed engrossed in reading a book. Raising his voice a little, Harry tried again. "Professor Lupin! It's me, Harry!"

This time, the middle-aged man looked up from his book, raised his eyebrows at Harry and smiled. "Harry? What a pleasant surprise." He came closer to the fire. "What can I do for you?"

Harry hesitated for a moment. "This is going to sound a bit odd, but... Could you perhaps purchase some Muggle art supplies for me?"

Lupin looked puzzled. "Art supplies? I didn't know you were artistic, Harry."

The Boy Who Lived laughed; the idea of himself doing anything even remotely creative was a bit amusing. "They wouldn't be for me. They'd be...for a friend. For Christmas."

"A girlfriend?" Remus grinned teasingly.

Harry blushed and looked down for a moment. "No, just...just a friend." He tried to ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"You all right, Harry? You look a bit sad."

"Oh, no. I'm fine," Harry forced a smile. "If I send you the money, could you go to, say, a shop that sells sketchbooks and drawing pencils?"

"Sure thing, Harry."

After saying good-bye to Lupin, Harry immediately placed some leftover Muggle money in a small pouch and tied it to Hedwig's leg. Meanwhile, Ron had returned from the common room and was preparing Pig to deliver the letter he had just written.

Harry looked down at the letter with curiosity. "May I ask what that is?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing," Ron replied, gesturing to the pouch.

Harry gave his friend a lopsided grin and shrugged. "Oh, it's just...well, Professr Lupin agreed to do a bit of Christmas shopping for me."

"But we live near Hogsmeade," Ron argued.

"Well..." The dark-haired boy opened the window and released Hedwig into the darkening winter sky. "It's...something you can't find in Hogsmeade."

A couple days later, Harry and Ron were eating and trying to ignore Hermione as she whined about not having anything to give Romilda for Christmas. As she went on and on about whether to give her candy, flowers or jewelry, owls came flooding into the Great Hall with packages and envelopes. One of those owls was Hedwig, who had a large, flat package clutched in her talons. Moments later, Pig appeared and dropped a smaller parcel in front of Ron. The two boys exchanged excited glances and jumped up from the table, leaving Hermione by herself. The bookworm scarcely noticed their absence as she stared shamelessly at Romilda.

Upon reentering their common room, Harry and Ron sat down together on the couch and ripped open their mail. Harry was delighted at the sight of a big sketch pad and a small box of charcoal drawing pencils. Myra will love these, Harry happily thought to himself.

"What are those?" Ron, who was not accustomed to Muggle drawing utensils, picked up the box of pencils and pulled one out, looking at it as if it was from another planet.

"They're Muggle drawing pencils," Harry replied as he snatched the pencils out of Ron's hands. "I'm giving them to Myra for Christmas with this," he gestured to the sketch pad.

"You're giving Luna's cousin a gift? Why? Do you like her?" The redhead laughed. "Is she your girlfriend?"

Harry flushed at Ron's chides, and hit him lightly with the back of the sketch pad. "She is not my girlfriend, you git! She's my friend. I give all my friends gifts." Eager to change the subject, Harry turned his attention to the small package in front of Ron. "Now let's see what's in your parcel." The dark-haired wizard watched with interest as his friend removed the wrapping, opened the box and pulled out what looked like a perfume bottle.

"You see this, Harry?" Ron held up the bottle. "This is all I need to make Hermione mine again."

"How is perfume going to cure her?"

The redhead rolled his eyes. "It's not perfume, it's Amortentia!" He removed the cap and waved it under Harry's nose.

To the Chosen One, the love potion had a very clean, fresh scent; a scent that had recently become familiar to him, although he didn't quite know why. "How are you going to get her to drink it? Pour some into her morning pumpkin juice when she's not looking?"

"Nope." Ron looked rather pleased with himself. "I have it all planned out. You see, Christmas is just a few days away. That'll give me time to buy some truffles from Honeydukes and infuse them with Amortentia. Then I'll give her the chocolate as a Christmas present. She loves chocolate, so of course she'll gobble them right up. Mylove potion and Romilda's will cancel each other out, and Hermione will be back to normal again."

"'Morning, Harry. Want to go to Hogsmeade?"

The Boy Who Lived groaned at the sound of Romilda's voice as he sat in the Gryffindor Common Room. Part of him wished that Hermione was there so that Romilda wouldn't be able to bother him. The overpowering smell of her perfume was enough to make him gag as he reluctantly looked up at the girl. That's another thing I like about Myra, Harry mused. She doesn't smell like she's been marinating in fragrance. The young man stood up and crossed his arms over his chest. "Thanks, but no."

Miss Priss pouted. She was trying again to be sexy, but only made herself look even dumber than usual.

Harry sighed with exasperation. "Look, I've got to get going."

"Well before you go, I wanted to give you something." Romilda held a folded piece of parchment, which she slipped into his pocket before he could stop her. "Later, Harry." She winked at him suggestively, then strutted away.

Harry just about cracked up when the little snot attempted to climb the girls' stairs while swinging her hips excessively. Once again, his thoughts turned to Myra, and he smiled. Unlike Romilda, there was nothing fake or unnatural about his friend. Myra was always very real and genuine...and she didn't walk like that!

With much effort, Romilda finally managed to strut her way up to the girls' dormitory entrance. Suddenly Hermione, who must've been hiding, jumped out in front of her from behind the doorway. A very startled Romilda lost her balance and started to fall backwards off the staircase.

"Be careful, my love!" Hermine exclaimed. She quickly grabbed the brunette by the shoulders before she could fall, then tried to kiss her.

"GET OFF OF ME!" Romilda screamed and shoved Hermione, then ran out the portrait hole with the bushy-haired girl following close behind.

The last thing Harry heard before the Portrait Hole door shut was Hermione's voice shouting, "Oh Romilda, you're such a tease!"

Later that afternoon, Harry and Myra took a leisurely stroll around Hogwarts as they talked and laughed. They were completely engrossed in conversation when they suddenly heard...

"Harry James Potter!"

Harry looked up to see Romilda Vane strutting angrily up to him and Myra, looking very much like a jealous girlfriend. She turned her nose disgustedly up at Myra and accusingly asked him, "Who's she?"

As if she has the right to know, Harry scoffed bitterly. He looked apologetically at Myra and narrowed his eyes at Romilda, who acted as if Myra was dirt under her fingernails.

"What are you looking at, you ugly little dweeb?" Miss Priss gave the girl a Malfoyish sneer.

Myra immedately burst into tears, her bizarre Luna-ish dress flowing behind her as she scurried away. Harry called out to Myra, but the girl kept running and hid herself in a room down the hall.

Romilda smirked at Myra's retreating back, then raised an eyebrow at Harry. Her voice full of mock pity, she scoffed, "Aww, your friend didn't want to hang out with us. I guess it's just you and me now. So what's with the little mouse, Harry? Are you trying to do her a favor by making her look cool?"

Harry's jaw clenched, his fists balling up by his sides as he glared down at the haughty brunette. After taking a few deep breaths, the Chosen One hissed, "She is not a mouse. Her name is Myra, and she just happens to be a good friend of mine."

The arrogant girl let out an annoyingly high-pitched laugh and breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, all right, she's a friend. That would explain it."

"Exactly what is that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, nothing," Romilda sighed and shrugged nonchalantly. "It just wouldn't make sense for the great Harry Potter to be dating a two when he could easily have a perfect ten."

"If being a two means that you're smart, and kind, and interesting, then yeah, I guess she is a two. But let me tell you something," Harry pointed an angry finger at the nasty little witch. "That girl you so rudely insulted has more beauty than you will ever have!" With that, Harry turned on his heel and stormed away from the snob, who for once was at a loss for words.

The Chosen One went to the door of the room that he thought contained Myra, which was left slightly open. He felt a combination of anger at Romilda and sorrow for his friend as he knocked softly on the door.


She didn't respond, but when he listened closely, he could hear her crying. He slowly pushed the door open to find Myra standing there with tears streaming down her cheeks. Harry never was very good at dealing with emotions, but he wanted to be there for her. So he took Romilda's note out of his pocket and transfigured the piece of parchment into a handkerchief, which he held out to her.

Harry felt a certain sense of satisfaction as Myra blew her nose on Romilda's letter. It broke the Gryffindor's heart to see those dark, puffy eyes looking up at him, with flushed lips still trembling. He wanted to wrap her in a comforting embrace, but hesitated, unsure if that was the right thing to do. He reached out to pat her shoulder, then pulled back. It scared him how much he wanted to hold her. But he didn't want her to think he was trying to take advantage of her or the situation. Harry realized his feelings for Myra had gone above and beyond friendship. Somehow, without even trying--just by being her charmingly quirky self--Myra had captured his heart and soul. But did she feel the same?

After Myra's sobbing subsided, she looked up at him, sniffling and wiping the tears off her cheeks. In a hushed voice, she said, "I feel so foolish, standing here crying like this in front of you."

The Gryffindor shook his head. "No, don't. Romilda is the one who should feel stupid, not you. Don't listen to her. She's just a nasty person who think she's better than everybody else."

Myra looked down and nodded as she twisted the handkerchief in her hands. She looked up again and said, "Um, Harry, I hope you don't mind, but I think I'd like to go back to Ravenclaw and just be alone for a little while."

Harry was disappointed, but understood. He walked Myra back to the Ravenclaw living quarters in a companionable silence until she spoke again.

"Thanks," the brunette whispered in a barely audible tone. "Nobody has ever defended me before."

Harry smiled sympathetically at the girl, and wondered exactly what she meant. She normally wasn't given to making such bold statements. But as she was probably feeling vulnerable right now, he chose not to press the issue or stick his nose in her business.

For Harry, Christmas couldn't come soon enough. He was anxious not only to have Hermione back to normal again, but to give Myra her presents. The Gryffindor couldn't wait to see the look on her face when she opened her new art supplies!

Myrtle had also been looking forward to Christmas, although she wasn't expecting to receive any gifts. This was her first holiday alive again, and this time she actually had friends to share it with. Christmas morning came, and Myrtle was shaken awake by a small hand on her shoulder.

"Myrtle, wake up! It's Christmas!"

The first thing Myrtle saw upon awakening was a pair of huge silver eyes, which were even larger than normal with childlike wonder and excitement. The blond grinned broadly and grabbed her hand, pulling her out of bed.

"Come on! Get dressed so we can go see what gifts the Washoos left for us!"

"Washoos?" Myrtle laughed and rubbed her eyes sleepily.

Luna grabbed a hairbrush and started running it through Myrtle's rumpled tresses. "Well of course! Washoos are little elf like creatures that leave gifts under Christmas trees."

The brunette chortled and started to leave the room in her nightgown when Luna stopped her.

"No! Wait!" Luna dragged Myrtle over to her wardrobe.

"Why can't we just go down to the common room as we are?" Myrtle whined.

The Ravenclaw went through her clothes until she came to a hideous red and green frock, which she shoved into Myrtle's grasp. "Well, if the Washoos see you in your pajamas, they'll turn all of your gifts into lumps of coal!"

Deciding not to question Luna any further, Myrtle changed into the garish dress and followed her friend down to the common room. Luna gave Myrtle her gift, a two-inch-thick book of magical creatures and some peanut butter cockroach clusters. "Thank you, Luna!" Myrtle hugged the blond. Then her smile faded. She hadn't ever thought about buying any Christmas presents, and even if she had, she didn't have any money. "But I didn't get you anything," her brow furrowed with concern.

Luna smiled, "That's all right, Myrtle. I didn't expect you to." Her big eyes glanced up at the clock as if she might be running late or expecting something to happen.

Myrtle laughed, "What? Are the Washoos coming back at a certain time?"

The Ravenclaw didn't answer. She stood and walked over to the Ravenclaw entrance, her long straggly hair swinging behind her. When she opened the door, Myrtle faintly heard her talking to someone, but couldn't see who it was. Then Luna crossed the room, giving her a knowing smile before she went up the girls' dormitory stairs.

"Where are you going?" Myrtle wondered what she'd done to make Luna suddenly leave like that. Perhaps she really was upset about the lack of a Christmas present? Suddenly, she heard footsteps coming from the living quarters entrance and looked up, her jaw dropping with unexpected glee. "Harry?"

The handsome Gryffindor approached her bearing a smile and a large, flat package. He wore a green hand-knit sweater with a big "H" on the front, and black dress slacks. The sweater matched his eyes, which shone with Christmas cheer and...something else she couldn't quite make out. "Merry Christmas, Myra!"

Myrtle blushed as he sat down next to her on the blue and silver couch, placing the package on her lap. She definitely wasn't expecting this. The girl blinked at him with surprise and stuttered, "Is th-this for me?"

"Of course," replied the Gryffindor with a twinkle in his eye.

Myrtle was too stunned to move for a moment. No guy had ever given her a gift before.

"Go on, open it!" Harry grinned excitedly.

Once she overcame the initial shock, Myrtle smiled back at him and started to unwrap it. Her hands were a little shaky, but she managed to remove the parchment to reveal a brand new sketch pad and a set of drawing pencils.

"Muggle art supplies," she gasped. She hadn't used a pencil since before she died, and nobody had ever given her a sketch book before. When she was alive, she used to make do with drawing on random scraps of paper, the sides of paper bags, whatever she could get a hold of. She'd only dreamt of being able to afford her own drawing pad. And now, Harry had somehow acquired these gifts just for her. "How were you able to purchase these? Without leaving Hogwarts, I mean?"

"I had a friend pick them up for me," he smiled timidly.

This was by far the sweetest, most thoughtful gift anyone had ever given her. And the fact that Harry went to all the trouble of getting Muggle art supplies made it even more meaningful. She looked up again at the beautiful young man and smiled, tears of joy glistening in her eyes and clouding her vision. "Thank you, Harry. This is the best gift ever!"

The Gryffindor grinned, "You're very welcome."

As Myrtle gave Harry a 'thank you' hug, she thought she vaguely heard the sound of Luna's voice hissing, "Yes!" from the girls' staircase.

"Ron, have you seen Romilda? I wanted to give her this." Hermione held up a small box, the kind of box that could only contain a ring of some sort.

Ron held the Amortentia-laced chocolates behind his back as he smiled and replied, "Sorry, Hermione. I haven't seen her anywhere, but since we're both here, I'd like to give you your gift."

The bookworm looked less than thrilled when Ron held the package out to her. "Um, thanks, Ron. You really shouldn't have." She gave the package a look of disinterest and accepted it with reluctance.

Right then, Romilda started down the stairs, cautiously peering out from behind the girls' entryway. At the sight of Hermione, she started creeping back up the steps. The bushy-headed girl heard her footsteps and turned, spotting her just before she could get away.

Ron groaned when Hermione threw down his unopened gift in favor of chasing Romilda up the stairs. A few seconds later, he heard Romilda screaming as she ran back down the stairs with Hermione chasing her out the portrait hole. The redhead angrily plopped down on the couch and kicked the box of chocolates. How would he ever feed the love potion to his girlfriend if Romilda was always around?

It had been a wonderful Christmas morning for Harry. Just as he had hoped, Myra loved his gift. They spent the rest of the morning hanging out in the Ravenclaw Common Room with Luna, who kept them in stitches talking about various nonexistent magical creatures as if they were real. He never thought he could have so much fun doing absolutely nothing.

When he went to the Great Hall for lunch, he was expecting to see Ron and Hermione back together again, just like the good ole days. To his surprise, Hermione was missing in action and Ron was looking especially miserable.

"She wouldn't eat the chocolates," Ron muttered as he picked at his roast. "She wouldn't even open the bloody box!"

Harry felt bad for his best mate. "Don't worry, Ron. We'll figure something out. Maybe this evening I can convince her to try one."

The redhead gave him a doubtful look. "And how are you going to do that?"

That afternoon, Ron elected to hibernate in their room and feel sorry for himself. Harry tried to cheer him up by reminding him that Hermione was not a lost cause, but the red-haired boy wouldn't hear of it. "I can't wait 'til that bloody love potion wears off," Ron grumbled before disappearing under the blankets.

After dinner that evening, Harry entered the common room and spied Hermione's gift laying on the floor. The Gryffindor picked up the still-unopened chocolates, then set them down on the table by the couch. He felt sorry for Ron; Hermione had left them untouched all day long. Harry was beginning to doubt that the bookworm would ever eat them unless she thought they were from Romilda.

Suddenly, Harry had an idea. He magically changed the color and pattern of the giftwrap, then went up to his bedroom, where he fetched a quill and ink. Ron's snores covered up the sound of the quill scratching against parchment as Harry scribbled out a quick love letter:

To My Love,
Sorry about giving you a belated Christmas present. Please accept these chocolates as a symbol of our love.


The Gryffindor hastily cast a spell to make his own handwriting look neater and loopier, more like a girl's penmanship. As a result, the 'V' looked sort of like a 'W', but he didn't worry about it. He went back down to the vacant common room with the note he'd just written, trying to be quick in case anybody saw him.

Romilda, who was on her way downstairs from the girls' dormitories, noticed Harry dart across the room. She hid just inside the girls' entrance, lurking in the shadows as Harry placed a pretty pink package and a letter on an end table near the couch, as if to surprise someone with a Christmas gift. Of course, that someone just had to be her; who else would it be? The Weasley girl was dating someone else now, and Loony Lovegood and mousy little Myra were in Ravenclaw, so the gift clearly wasn't for either of them.

Harry snuck back up the boys' stairs, and an arrogant smile spread across Romilda's face. "I knew it! He does want me," she giggled to herself as she crept down to the pink package. The Boy Who Lived clearly had a romantic side, and he was good at hiding it; maybe too good. But that was all right with Romilda; after pursuing him for ages, he was finally coming around.

The snotty brunette eagerly seized the package and tore off the shiny parchment to reveal a box of delicious-looking chocolate truffles. "My favorite!" Romilda squealed with delight; it was clear to her that Harry was secretly observing her and knew exactly what she liked. She popped one candy into her mouth and savored the rich explosion of flavor. The filling tasted like amaretto, mocha, and some other flavor that she couldn't quite make out. But nothing tasted better than sweet victory. Yes, the great Harry Potter was now hers; hero of the Wizarding world, Quidditch captain...

Ron plays Quidditch, too! Romilda's thoughts were quickly turning to Harry's red-haired friend. All these years she'd seen him as Harry's goofy sidekick, but he was actually quite dashing, especially in those red and gold Quidditch robes that accentuated his fiery hair and brought out the adorable golden freckles that peppered his handsome face. She had the sudden urge to find the tall boy and kiss each of his freckles, one by one.

She reached for another chocolate when she remembered that they were from Harry. Oh no! Romilda's eyes grew wide. I hope Ron doesn't think there's anything going on between me and Harry! She looked back at the table where she had found the chocolates, and saw the sheet of parchment still laying there. Wanting to get rid of it before Ron could find it, she grabbed it and saw what it said. At the bottom of the page were the initials "R.W."

Romilda breathed a sigh of relief and laughed. Of course! The candy and note were from Ron. Harry was just helping him out by strategically placing the gift and letter where she'd find them. All these years, Ron had harbored a crush on her, but she'd been sidetracked by his famous friend. She couldn't even remember what she had seen in Harry to begin with.

A/N: Some of you may wonder why Harry gave Myrtle Muggle art supplies instead of magical ones, when he doesn't know whether or not she's familiar with Muggle things. My answer is quite simple. It would've been a lot harder for him to acquire Muggle art supplies than magical ones. Therefore, Muggle supplies would make a much more meaningful gift because of all the time, effort and planning that went into getting them for her.

Also, in this story, students of different Houses are allowed to enter one another's Common Rooms, at least during the winter holiday.

Track This Story: Feed

Write a Review

out of 10


Get access to every new feature the moment it comes out.

Register Today!