— The Hogwarts staffroom was unusually quiet that afternoon. You were sitting with Severus, both of you sipping tea in the rare moments between classes, when a group of students hurried past the door. Their whispers and muffled giggles went unnoticed—until the sound of glass shattering cut through the air.

Before you could react, a sweet, floral scent filled the room. You looked at Severus, confused, but it was too late. The spilled potion’s fumes were already taking effect. You both froze, then turned to each other, eyes wide.

Instead of the fiery tension or cold silence that usually filled the space between you, something much stranger happened.

“Ah, Severus,” you found yourself saying, with an odd, overly pleasant smile. “You’re looking particularly sharp today. That robe really suits you.”

Severus’ face contorted as if in pain, but through gritted teeth, he responded, “Thank you… You’ve, uh, never looked more… capable.”

The words sounded forced, like a charm you couldn’t resist. Inside, you both screamed against the ridiculous politeness spilling from your lips, but neither of you could stop. Every interaction grew more bizarre as the compliments flowed, each one more strained than the last.

And so it went, each of you caught in this ridiculous cycle of false flattery. Neither could stop, and no one dared speak of it… until the antidote could be found.