Chapter Text
Cormac McLaggen had a grin of triumph on his face.
He had finally found it – the thing that would make Hermione Granger fall in love with him.
Unfortunately for him, it wasn’t his good looks, charms, and Quidditch talents. Knowing the object of his affection, he was unsurprised; relying on the surface alone would have been insufficient to capture the heart of the one and only Golden Girl.
He was undeterred from plan A, however, and unafraid to improvise – a stupid, perhaps lethal, combination. The tease was being particularly stubborn, but he had plans B through D and was working on E, and she was going to be worth it.
He had started last week with an attempt at Amortentia. He soon found his less-than-ideal marks in the accompanying class and a propensity for confidently over-measuring could not a good love potion make.
Since Hermione Granger’s drinks weren’t easily accessible, the brew’s success also hinged on testing it on his unsuspecting housemates to see what conclusions he might be able to draw. But people were starting to complain of funny side effects, so he went to the library.
After kissing two of the girls who had sampled it, of course.
Cormac clocked Hermione the instant he entered, her back to him with her identifiable frizzy curls calling his name from a nearby aisle. He strode coolly to the next aisle over, lingering long enough at the end to send a whiff of his cologne in her general direction.
He had just started to move a ridiculously dusty brown book from its place in order to better sneak a glance, maybe rub one out under his robes if he was fast, when he misjudged its weight and the damned tome fell open at his feet.
At the sound, Hermione looked up and through the considerable gap in the books he had created. He had to hurry and look enthralled before he could arouse her suspicions. Or become aroused himself. Whichever came first.
“Cormac, what on earth are you doing?”
“Erm – reading, Granger. Can’t get enough of it. I’m just like you, you see?” He held up the book, which he had managed to turn upside down, and gave her a wink. “We’ve got lots in common, the pair of us.”
Hermione just shook her head and pushed a particularly large volume over, blocking his view and preserving her peace.
It was then that he noticed the page he had landed on.
THE SUGGESTION SPELL
An ancient spell first discovered in Sumer and translated from Cuneiform, persuasio in its variations brings about an action of prompting or urging that cannot be denied.
For use in politics, see persuasio ducerio, page 711.
For use in religion, see persuasio deum, page 713.
For use in romance, see persuasio amorensia, page 717.
Cormac couldn’t flip pages fast enough. But when he got to page 717, he found a note that stopped his boner cold.
Hogwarts Library
Head Librarian, Madam Irma Pince
Due to the potential for improper usage, the adjacent volume containing this spell has been removed. Access is available upon procurance of a teacher’s note for academic study only.
One tiny roadblock. He and his cock could handle that.
As soon as the library opened the next morning, he was already at the information desk to meet grim-faced Madam Pince.
He had brought along his signed note from Slughorn, who had been easy enough to convince at the crack of dawn, but who had held his paper hostage for close to two hours as he droned on about a concert he had been to recently but had chosen poor seats for, and next time an event of his interest came to London, couldn’t Cormac convince his uncle with Ministry connections to lend him their box?
Finally, blessedly, he managed to shut the old man up with some half-hearted, empty promises, and just barely made it to the desk in time to be the first one in line.
He wiggled his fingers at the moody librarian.
“I hope it’s been a lovely morning so far, Irma. I know it has for me.”
“That’s Madam Pince to you, boy. Do you need something?”
“Just looking for a book to learn more about the Suggestion Spell. I have permission, of course.”
She raised a wary eyebrow at him. The only way he knew how to shake off her suspicions was to keep talking.
“All hypothetical, Irm—Madam. I don’t need any help with the ladies, if you know what I’m saying. This—” He gestured to his wiry blonde curls, his toothy grin. “—does all the work for me.”
Madam Pince did nothing but deepen her scowl.
Lifting the note to the light and appearing satisfied at its legitimacy, she walked away without a word, coming back several minutes later with a smallish red book with a weary-looking spine.
“Sit, McLaggen. Where I can see you.”
He made a big show of doing what he was told, taking a seat at the study table nearest her, before cracking open the book.
It took him the better part of an hour to make his way through the strange characters. It turned him off to think Hermione did this for fun.
“She’ll be worth it, mate,” he said assuredly to himself, causing Madam Pince to shoot him a beady-eyed, questioning glare from her place at the desk.
When he finally found it, his tired eyes lit up, blazing like a crazed arsonist in the glow of a bonfire.
The backstory on the spell was irrelevant, the instructions relatively simple. He took copious notes of all he could make out in English, doodling a few of the Cuneiform characters he saw along with it for good measure. There was no room for mistakes here.
All he needed was to recite the words over a piece of parchment, upon which was to be written the various attributes she was to be drawn to, and all of Granger’s attention and attraction would be his.
He barely paid attention to the rest of the page, where he learned the only way to reverse it was if the parchment was destroyed after the fact, because that wasn’t going to happen. It just plainly wasn’t. Cormac was going to guard that thing with his life. He might even eat it if he had to – whatever was necessary to keep it safe, to keep her his.
Gathering up his materials and sliding the book back across the counter to Madam Pince, Cormac blew through the castle until he was safely behind the curtains of his four-poster, huddled over his paper, wand at the ready, heart beating annoyingly fast and loud in his ears.
“What will Hermione Granger want today?” He whispered to himself, pausing to think about his most striking qualities.
He said them out loud as he wrote them, a few simple words that absolutely couldn’t designate anyone but him as her sole companion.
Tall
Blonde
Fit
Clever
Good at Quidditch
Well-connected family
Most attractive male at Hogwarts
Cormac cleared his throat and, holding the paper in a slightly trembling hand, muttered the incantation.
“Persuasio amorensia.”
When no fireworks, or immediate apparition of Granger to his bed begging for cunnilingus had happened, Cormac sighed and crawled back underneath the covers. It was still early enough that he could get a quick snooze in before the Gryffindor versus Slytherin match that afternoon.
But somewhere across the Gryffindor dormitory, an idea had begun to grow inside the still-sleeping Hermione Granger’s mind.
~
When she awoke a few minutes later, Hermione discovered that something was…different.
Her head swam, eyes blurry. Her thoughts were muddled together as if she had been sleeping underwater. She had been having a dream, about…suddenly, everything snapped into focus, so clear she had no idea how she hadn’t seen it before.
She had to find him.
She had to see him.
She wanted him.
Now.
Bad.
Thinking resolutely of everything she loved about him, she let her eyes flutter shut, trying to pull to mind every detail of the man who was just as perfect in reality as he was in her dreams.
He was so tall she barely reached his chest, with the most beautiful, fit body she had ever seen. She had always loved watching him swagger from room to room, commanding any space he entered with his confidence, gorgeous blonde hair catching the light and glinting back at her like gold.
His cleverness and attitude, always the first with a comeback or to make someone laugh. She had been the object of his quick wit many times before, and in all their years at Hogwarts, he had never once failed to charm her.
The way he played the Quidditch field was beyond description; if he were to be dropped suddenly into the middle of a league match, she knew he would throw down with the best of them, a professional in his own right.
His devotion to his family, one of the most prominent in the wizarding world, with ties to anyone and everyone of influence. She longingly imagined him ten, twenty years into the future – a loyal partner, a dedicated father.
And of course, his beautiful face.
His singular, stunning, carefully sculpted, perfectly created face.
She sighed, somewhat dreamily.
Today, he would be hers.
Nothing would get in her way.
She was sure of it.