Chapter 2

                                    

                                          
"What's that goofy smile for, Geniva?" asked Markus, the bartender.
The barmaid turned around to face him and grinned mischievously.
                          
"Oh no," Markus groaned. "Please tell me you didn't spike those kids' drinks."
                          
Geniva giggled. "So what if I did?"
                          
"Geniva! It's just wrong! Love potions are immoral."
                          
"Oh please, Markus. You know my love potion is different. It only works if there is already some love there to begin with."
                          
"Still..." he mumbled.
                          
"Look," she said, leaning over the counter. She placed a hand gently on the bartender's arm. "You and I have both seen those two kids bickering every time they are in here. But I have always sensed that maybe there is something else there. Can you honestly say you've never noticed the sexual tension between them? It radiates off them."
                          
Markus looked at her incredulously. Geniva had a knack for reading people, and seeing things that other people couldn't. "But Geniva, potions can sometimes have crazy side effects. What if-"
                          
"No what-ifs, Markus. The potion is foolproof. If there is nothing between them besides loathing, then they are just walking home right now, arguing the entire way, as usual. But if there's more there..." she smiled, and then said, "Well then let's just say, it will be a Valentine's Day they won't soon forget."
                          
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To passersby, the tall silver-haired boy and the petite bushy-haired girl appeared to be a couple very much in love, and very much in need of getting a room.
However...
                          
The exact moment Hermione Granger finally realized that Draco Malfoy was kissing her, she gasped in horror and shoved him off of her. That, she thought to herself, was the worst two minutes of my life. Not that she had counted the minutes. She had been too busy kissing the ferret back...running her hands through his silky blonde hair...pressing her tongue lightly against his...making little whimpering noises...and...She groaned inwardly. Oh dear, I really hate myself right now.
                          
Draco didn't look like he was doing too much better himself. He was looking paler than usual (Is that even possible? Hermione wondered incredulously), and the expression on his face, while hard to place, definitely contained repulsion.
                          
"What the hell," he spat, "was that?"
                          
Hermione narrowed her eyes at him and smoothing out the front of her blouse. "Why don't you tell me, Malfoy. You're the one who just initiated a game of tonsil hockey with me."
                          
"Tonsil what?" Draco shook his head in confusion. "I'm fairly certain I didn't get anywhere near your tonsils, Granger. I'm also fairly certain that you are the one who attacked me."
                          
Hermione's jaw dropped at his accusation. "And I'm fairly certain that tomorrow I will have a nasty bruise on my back that will prove it was you who threw me up against the side of this building here." She placed her hands on her hips in such a way that clearly said, so THERE.
                          
"And I'm fairly certain," Draco said without thinking, "that I'm about to do it again."
                          
Sure enough, before Hermione had time to protest (and she would like to think that she would have, given the opportunity), she was once again pressed tightly up against the hard stone wall by none other than Draco Malfoy. Oh, this is not good. Not good at all.
                          
Hermione winced at the sudden contact of her already-tender back up against the rough wall. Draco noticed this and once again, he spoke without thinking. "Are you all right?"
                          
She looked up into his eyes, surprised by his question. Malfoy was asking if she was all right? It took a few seconds for her brain to register this, as it was not used to associating genuine concern with Draco Malfoy. His own gray eyes bore into hers, and the loathing that was fired up inside them earlier was gone, and was now replaced with something she couldn't quite put a finger on. Finally, she nodded. "Yeah," she said softly. "I'm okay."