THE LONGBOTTOM EFFECT
by The Goblet
Part:1 / 1
Remus and Severus are forced to take a shower.
This story is an entry in Master and the Wolf: Harry Potter Fuh-Q-Fest Wave 2.
This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
It all started the day Lupin approached me to help co-teach a series of Defence Against the Dark Arts classes on poisons.
He knew I would not say no. He knew that I would do anything to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts. Or at least give the impression that I wanted the job. What he did not know was that I would do anything he asked, not only co-instruct a Defence lesson. If he had asked me to walk barefoot in the snow wearing nothing but my birthday suit, in order to brew a potion for him: I would. I would do anything to see a smile on his face.
You may think I'm a sentimental old fool, but I have been in lust with the werewolf from the day he walked into Hogwarts on the first of September 1993 . He had been offered the position of Defence against the Dark Arts professor, and I, as per usual, had received the customary rejection letter for the same position.
You may be wondering what caused me to say that I found Lupin attractive. If you were to talk to any of the third year Gryffindors or Slytherins that year, they would all tell you that I hated the man. Merlin, if you had talked to Lupin, himself, he would have told you that I hated him. But that simply was not the case. No. I was fascinated by him. By the way he moved, by the way he spoke, by the way he treated others… by the way he treated me. Of course, it would do no good to allow my infatuation be known by the students, so I acted as though I hated him, despised him, loathed him. I took the act just a little too far though. I probably should never have told my students that he was a werewolf. Yes, that was too far.
Nevertheless, getting back to what I was saying earlier. Lupin, back for a second year of teaching Defence against the Dark Arts had asked me to teach his seventh year students how to brew a simple "one size fits most" poison antidote. It seemed like a fair enough request at the time, being that Lupin is absolutely hopeless at brewing potions.
It wasn't until his seventh year Gryffindor Defence against the Dark Arts class filed into my potions lab, did I realise what I had actually gotten myself into. That's right, I said Seventh year Gryffindors. Meaning that, for the first time in eighteen months, Neville Francis Longbottom had once again stepped into my laboratory.
I should have listened to my instincts. I should have banned him from my classroom, thrown him out, made him sit in a corner, and just watch. I should have run screaming from the dungeons and taken refuge in Albus's office, gone and kissed the hem of you-know-who. But I didn't. And I'm glad I didn't, for if I had, I wouldn't be lying here in bed with a very sleepy werewolf.
But I am getting ahead of myself.
Resigned to my fate, I explained how poisons work, and what made this particular antidote specifically valuable for neutralising toxins. And then the fun began. I wrote the potion on the board, and began to prowl around the class. They had all taken Potions in their first five years at Hogwarts, and they knew the drill. Lupin assisted by keeping out of my way, and answering any questions which were not beyond him.
I started my inspection with Longbottom. I knew he would have some trouble. He always did. As I passed his bench, he was busy peeling a shrivel fig. All was good in the world, or as good as it could be with my lab filled with Gryffindors.
Potter made the classic mistake of skipping yet another line of the procedure. Luckily, I caught him in time. It was becoming a habit with the boy. I made a mental note to ask Poppy to check his eyesight. The rest of the class was progressing nicely, their potions all a dark goldenrod colour.
I should have known something was wrong. I have developed a sixth sense for potion disasters, the little hairs on the back of my neck standing up whenever a cauldron was about to explode. I recall looking across the room where Lupin and Longbottom were bending over a cauldron. The cornflower blue content of the cauldron was boiling briskly. Something was definitely wrong.
As I strode across the classroom, I heard Longbottom say that he had forgotten to add ground hippogriff toenails. But that was definitely not the only reason why his potion was incorrect. He had added the other ingredients in the improper order, and I wouldn't have been surprised if he had stirred the solution as though he was making tea. Trust Longbottom to make a complete botch of the potion.
He had gone to retrieve the missing toenails from the storage cupboard by the time I reached his cauldron. I looked at Lupin and shook my head. I should have paid more attention to the potion, and not to Lupin. As I was looking at him, the rapidly boiling cauldron exploded, covering the workbench, and us with the hot, gooey concoction.
I took a hold of Lupin's hand and pulled him through the classroom and towards my office. I dismissed the class, telling Granger to supervise the other students as they cleared away their cauldrons, and warning them not to touch Longbottom's "invention".
Attached to my office was a small bathroom with a large bath, which is filled by two overhead shower sprays. I never shower in this bathroom as it is mainly used for serious accidents, for which I had no ready antidote: such as the one Neville had just caused.
I pulled Lupin into the bathroom and pulled off my boots, before stepping into the tub. He seemed to understand what I was trying to do, as he climbed into the tub while I was turning on the faucets.
Standing there, in our robes, allowing the water to wash away most of the potion, I understood exactly what Longbottom had managed to brew. I cursed myself for not realising it earlier, say before the cauldron exploded. Slowly I began to peal off my soaked robes, telling Lupin to do the same. He turned his back on me as he did so, slowly and carefully pulling off his frayed clothing.
I was going to kill Longbottom! How dare he brew an aphrodisiac in my classroom?
So there I was, standing naked in my shower, with a naked Lupin beside me, both of us affected by an aphrodisiac. I'm not talking some over the counter "I need a little help in the bedroom" type of aphrodisiac. I'm talking the veritaserum of aphrodisiacs, the granddaddy of them all. I'm talking the strongest, most powerful aphrodisiac brewed by wizardkind.
I admit it. I was weak. I couldn't help but look over at the object of my adoration, to find him facing away from me, trying to hide his arousal. I was stunned. Lupin hadn't realised that he had been doused with an aphrodisiac; he thought his erection was natural. But that wasn't what stunned me. I was astonished to find that he wasn't surprised by his arousal. He was embarrassed, but not surprised.
I remember touching his shoulder. And he turned. I saw him brace himself for one of my customary remarks. But instead, I leant forward and brushed my lips against his. And he didn't pull away. He didn't reciprocate the gesture either. I kissed him again, more firmly this time. And he returned my kiss.
And that's how it started kid. That's how Lupin and I first got together. That was over sixty years ago. And everyday I thank my lucky stars that we were both victims of the Longbottom effect.