Oooh yes, perfect, absolutely perfect.

Dr. Chloe Michel smiled to herself as she gazed upon her confectionery creations; a dozen, delicate, bite-sized chocolate truffles ranging in colour and design. White, milk, and dark variants blended together in a harmonious union born of delectable adoration. Each little sphere of heaven sat in its own silver paper cup, arranged into two neat rows and nestled in a box of pure snow-white, complete with cream-coloured tissue paper to hold everything in place. Letting out a little squee of delight, Chloe fit on the matching snowy-white lid and, as a finishing touch, tied it shut with a chiffon pink ribbon complete with an immaculate bow.

She couldn't help the self-satisfied grin that crept onto her face as she took in the completed product, perfect from the inside out. Michel was confident in her culinary abilities and she felt certain of their divine, melt-in-your-mouth goodness despite that making them out of dextro ingredients she had been completely unfamiliar with. After all, cooking came down to the same basic concepts. Cooking was an art, and she was a master.

Sweeping up the pretty box and stowing it safely in her workbag, Michel scrambled out of her cramped apartment and dashed over to the docking bays.

"Mr. Vakarian? M–May I have a moment, please?"

She had caught him right at the docking bay doors just as he was about to return to the Normandy. He turned at the sound of his name and she was greeted by the sight of his bright blue eyes, gracefully curved crest and – his most prominent feature – the extensive scarring that spread over the right side of his face, marring the ultramarine Palaven markings there. Passers-by even seemed to be staring at the big, armoured turian with the scarred-up face, some even whispering to their buddies or openly pointing, but Michel cared for none of it. When his beautiful eyes met hers, she felt her heart flutter and skip a beat even as all the air in her lungs vanished.

"Dr. Michel? Is something wrong?" He questioned, his dual-tone of mild concern almost making her swoon at his feet right then and there. Oh goodness, just the sound of his sinful voice was enough to –

No, no, she had to keep it together. Just … just for another five minutes. That's it, keep it together, keep it together – did she remember to fix her hair before seeing him? And her perfume? It wasn't too much, was it? Oh dear, she hoped not. What about makeup? The mascara wand had quivered a little as she was applying it to the lashes of her left eye. It hadn't looked too obvious at the time but she now cursed herself for not fixing it when she had the chance. He was starting to look at her all weird and – and – and –

"Oh! Oh, no! N-Nothing at all!" Michel finally gathered the wits to answer, scrambling to restore her higher brain functions even as he gazed at her with those gentle, smouldering eyes of puzzlement that should be illegal all over Council space – no!

"I, erm, I," Michel stammered, fumbling with her workbag. "I just wanted to give you this!" She thrust the prettily wrapped box at his deep, strong chest – stop! – as she looked away in an attempt to hide her flaming face. All her carefully rehearsed lines and witty small talk flew out the window as she struggled to regain her frayed composure.

Oh, dear. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. This all played out so much better during the fantasy simulation in her head.

"Erm," came those utterly, gorgeously surprised dual-tones as he tilted his head at the proffered box.

"They're chocolates. For you," Michel blurted, feeling like a teenage schoolgirl on her first date. "Not to worry!" she hurried to add, "they're dextro. I made sure. They're safe. For you. I mean. To eat."

Hesitant, three-fingered hands tipped with curved talons accepted the box. His eyes travelled slowly from her, to the box, then back to her. "I … er, thank you?" he responded, as if unsure. "What's the occasion, though?"

"Oh, no occasion!" Michel yammered, hearing her voice growing higher in pitch with each passing second. "No occasion at all! Just, just – you know, you and the commander have been working hard all this while and fighting the war and – and – I just thought – You know, you deserved a little break, a little relaxation – for your health! I mean, you're under a lot of mental stress as it is and – not that there's anything wrong with you, of course! I didn't mean – I just saw them in the store and thought of you, so – so – "

Run, said a little voice in her head, you have to run now.

"Anyway, IhavetogotoworkseeyouaroundGarrus!"

Before giving him a chance to respond, she'd taken off as fast as her legs could carry her, leaving Garrus standing in the dust with a box of homemade chocolates and in utter bewilderment as he stared after her retreating form.

Well done, Michel. That was great, you must have looked completely cool and professional and desirable back there. Well done.

Michel panted as she braced her hands on her knees in front of Huerta Memorial, struggling to draw breath. She'd messed up, panicked. She'd wanted to appear before him like a mature, confident, sassy individual – someone who anyone would want to have a piece of – but one syllable from him elicited such a violent burst of infatuation that her brain turned to mush and her knees to jelly. All thought processes seemed to shut down as she basked in his mere presence and was reduced to a giggly, stammering youngster with her first crush.

Groaning in mortification, she leaned against the wall and buried her face into her hands. Ah well, at least she had given him the chocolates, hadn't she? That had been the end goal, after all. The fruits of her labour, the delicate result of her sweat, blood, and tears. Once even one of those ambrosial morsels made its way onto his tongue, he would be wrapped around her little finger.

Yes, she thought, a small smile returning to her face. Once he had taken in that love potion, Garrus Vakarian would be utterly smitten with her and completely under her spell, dare she say it.

Bursting into a fit of giddy giggles, Michel skipped through the hospital doors, ignoring a wide-eyed salarian on the other side of the glass as she passed.

Oh, yes, she could hardly wait.

Tali nodded a greeting at the two female crewmen as she passed through the security scan on her way to the War Room. Wandering through the doors and into the busy hub, she looked down at the innocent-looking white box in her hands.

Keelah, what am I going to do with this?

Garrus had hastily pawned it off to her the instant they had gotten back from the geth dreadnought. Though Shepard had feigned indifference at the mention of the chocolates, something about the set of her jaw told Tali she had not known of their existence and now that she did, Commander Shepard was not happy. Not at all. Garrus must have picked up on the change in atmosphere as well, those turian-boyfriend-is-in-potential-trouble senses tingling like crazy. Seeing as she was the only other dextro on board he was familiar with – giving them to the Primarch would have been just awkward and no – it seemed only natural for him to dump the delicate box in her hands like it was a diseased pyjack carcass.

Which brought Tali to her current predicament.

She wasn't sure what to feel about eating chocolates bought by another woman for the boyfriend of her commander and almost-sister. It felt … wrong, scandalous even. Like a betrayal of sorts. Which sounded silly when Tali put the thoughts into words, but she simply couldn't bring herself to even open the box.

So, what to do, then? She peered down at the pure white package again. It would be a shame to waste them, but if she had to …. Javik's face swam into her mind's eye after some thought.

… Actually, the airlock might not be such a bad idea after al–

"Creator-Zorah, do you require assistance?"

Tali almost jumped out of her suit, spinning around and brandishing the box in front of her like it was a pistol – only to be blinded by the glare of Legion's headlamp full-on through the plexi of her helmet.

"Keelah, Legion! Don't do that! You scared the daylights out of me!"

"We apologise, Creator-Zorah. You have been idle in the same position for approximately four minutes and thirty-seven seconds. This would normally suggest that you have encountered a critical system failure and require a complete system reboot. However, as you are an organic, we have deduced that you could potentially be undergoing sixty-two out of a hundred and eighteen possible afflictions, each of which – "

"No, Legion, I am fine. Thank you." Tali felt like kicking herself – this stupid box was causing her more trouble than it was worth if it was going to interfere in her work. That's it, she was heading to the bridge now.

"We are pleased to hear of that. Is there anything else that you require of us?"

"No, nothing. I'm sorry for snapping at you, Legion. I have to go now." Tali made to turn away but then froze mid-step, eyes glancing down at the box again. An idea began to form in her mind.

"Creator-Zorah?"

"Actually," she drawled, twisting back around to face the geth. "I need you to do a favour for me."

"We are happy to be of assistance, Tali'Zorah," came the immediate response.

Tali thrust the box at Legion's armoured chest. "Here, take this."

His headlamp twitched, headpanels flaring out a fraction. He glanced down at the proffered object for a few long seconds, then back at her. He did not take it.

"What is the nature of this action, Tali'Zorah?"

Tali bit her lip, realising that this was an even stupider idea than she initially thought. But to heck with it, anything that got her rid of this infernal thing.

"It's a gift, Legion. When people like each other, they give presents to show their … affection."

Yes. Yes, she could run with this.

Legion cocked his head, like he often did when encountering 'new data,' as he called it, and peered at her in a way that was almost quizzical. "Please specify."

Tali took a breath – she had to make him buy this without deviating too far from the truth. Choosing her words carefully, she began, "You see, Legion, when friends have been friends for a while – or even if they're only meeting for the first time, it depends on the person – it's a common practice to give each other gifts as physical tokens of their … appreciation for one another. It's a more obvious way to show that you care for someone – though it doesn't necessarily have to be a physical object, exactly. Some people get creative with their presents and give them in the form of … services instead. Like, for exa– "

No, no, stop right there! Nobody needs to know that about you!

"I– I mean– Well, whatever it is, people usually give gifts on special occasions or celebrations. Like birthdays or– "

"Request clarification." Legion interrupted, "Why are only individuals who share a strictly platonic friendship permitted to give and receive gifts? We do not understand why organic units in romantic or familial relationships would be excluded from this custom."

"Oh no, they're not!" Tali exclaimed before she could stop herself. "Anyone can give anyone they like a gift! A–As long as the other person accepts it, of course! It's not a right or an obligation– "

"Then why are you presenting this to us?"

"Erm, w–well," Tali stammered. "It's just – well – I just – I … I consider you my friend, Legion. That's all there is to it."

There, that should do it. Tali felt a little guilty. Her words were true, but it they felt strange on her tongue through a veil of deceit.

Legion glanced from her, to the box, and back to her again. "But this platform does not have a birthday, Tali'Zorah."

The quarian's lips twitched up into a genuine smile behind the mask. "It's fine. I said people usually give them on birthdays or special days, but it's not a hard rule."

Legion looked back down at the box, still in her hands. After a long, drawn-out moment, he finally took it into his own and held it aloft at headlamp-level.

"We … we appreciate this token of friendship, Tali."

Tali nodded, a hand at her hip. "You're welcome, Legion. I hope you'll … er, find a use for it."

She turned on her heel and spared a glance over her shoulder back at the geth. "I have to go now, Legion. I'll see you later!"

And with a cheery wave of her hand, Tali vanished behind a pair of closing double doors.

Legion did not understand.

The geth stood stock still, staring down at the open box lying atop his console. It contained twelve, even-sized pieces of dextro-friendly chocolate accompanied with white, pink and silver packaging that was both excessive and bordering on extravagant. The treats had obviously been concocted for a dextro-amino acid-based individual, why had Tali'Zorah given him these? He had no use for them.

Fortunately, everyone around him had yet to notice the chocolate in his possession, though Legion supposed that he lacked the capacity to care even if they did anyway.

Legion was confused.

Did Creator-Zorah not say that this was a gift from her in a capacity of a 'friend'? And that the purpose of gifts was to express good relations from one individual to another?

Legion was very confused.

Several facts presented themselves as he began building a consensus. Tali wished him to put the gift to good use. He, as a geth platform, had no practical use nor even need for nutritional sustenance. The practice of gift-giving was to establish good relations and foster friendships between individuals. A possible resolution could be to regift the chocolates to an organic who would consume them but as they were dextro-based food items, his list of potential giftees was drastically shortened.

At the present time, there were very limited numbers of dextro-amino individuals aboard the Normandy though the majority of them consisted of the Creators who had boarded the Normandy for a meeting with Shepard-Commander. Perhaps he could give the gift to one of them? But who?

It took only a moment for the geth to compute the most advantageous solution.

"Consensus reached. Preparing to dispense product."

Admiral Daro'Xen muttered under her breath as she studied the schematics before her. The upcoming mission on the geth dreadnought would not be an easy one, and they would need to be as prepared as they could. She couldn't quite stifle that little titter of nervousness that had made itself at home with her stomach and it wasn't helping with her quivering nerves. She couldn't let it show though. She was an admiral, an admiral of the mightiest fleet in the galaxy. Her people looked up to her. She couldn't show weakness, couldn't falter in her steps – not now, when they need her most –

"Creator-Admiral? We request a moment of your time."

Resisting the reflex to draw the non-existent pistol from her hip, Xen whirled at the familiar, clicking voice to the sight of the geth unit Commander Shepard had allowed on board the ship. It was an interesting specimen, she would give it that. She'd never before encountered a geth capable of sentient speech, though part of the reason could be because no geth or quarian in three hundred years had endured being in the same room for more than three seconds without shooting. Perhaps they were all like that, closer to true artificial intelligence than most of the Admiralty Board were willing to admit. But some small part of her intuition told Xen that this one was special.

And Xen always trusted her intuition.

"Ah, so it is you, geth." Xen put a hand to her hips and cocked them to the side, observing him with the intensity of a research assistant towards a lab rat. "Tell me, what is it that warrants my attention?"

The geth – Legion, did the commander call it? – twitched its head and its headpanels flickered to life.

"We are attempting to initiate diplomatic relations between our people and the Creators. We believe it would be best to approach this goal by beginning with small steps. With that said, we wish to present this to you."

Xen stared at the white-wrapped box Legion held out towards her, in that rare situation where she was glad she had a mask to hide her expression of complete and utter bewilderment.

"What is the meaning of this?"

The geth tittered. "We have been informed that the exchange of tokens to display platonic or romantic affection among organics facilitates kinship and promotes positive reinforcement. This platform has received dextro-based food substances we are unable to utilise, so we deemed that a Creator would derive greater benefit from its consumption."

Xen's eyes darted back to the box, now with a kind of hunger behind their hidden depths. Was that chocolate? Keelah, that couldn't be chocolate, could it? Somewhere in the back of her mind, Xen wondered at the geth's learning of organic sub-cultures and traditions – did it even understand the social taboos behind regifting a personal gift? – but the desire for chocolate was starting to encompass everything and becoming distracting to higher brain functions.

"And why, geth, would you choose me?"

The geth hesitated for a brief moment. "You are an admiral, a vital role-model for the Creators. You present a bridge between your people and ours. In addition, we feel that the circumstances between this platform and Creator-Xen have caused to 'start off on the wrong foot,' as per the archaic human idiom." The geth extended the box towards her again. "We hope that this will be the first step in remedying that."

It was a smart move, she'd give it that. Chocolates were Xen's ultimate weakness and for an instant, she wondered if the geth had met with an information broker to acquire such information and if it had ulterior motives behind – ah, blight it all! She had chocolates in front of her and to be frank, couldn't care less right now about anything else.

Taking the box, which Xen was delighted to note was considerably weighty, the admiral replied in gracious tone, "That sounds reasonable enough. Very well, geth. We will accept this … this little peace offering of yours. Thank you."

Yes. Yes, experiments could be conducted another day. For now, she would have chocolate.

"You are most welcome, Creator Admiral," replied the geth – Legion – with an incline of its curved head. "We hope that you will enjoy them."

The geth had hardly turned away to return to its terminal when Xen had begun to hastily tear open the wrapping and pick up the first piece of chocolatey heaven. She barely suppressed a shiver of anticipation as the tantalising aroma wafted through her suit's filters and teased her olfactory senses, a promise of heaven soon to come.

Unlocking her helmet's seals, Xen hand slipped under her visor to pop the first chocolate truffle into her mouth.

Chakwas hummed a bright tune to herself as she sorted through the numerous datapads littering her desk, arranging them alphabetically into organised stacks. The time had come to review the backlog of the crew's medical records again, a task most would have taken to with much complaining and reluctant groans. But the good doctor of the Normandy found the job to be soothing and relaxing. No bleeding patients, no screaming, no panicking, concerned squadmates and no fumbling for medical supplies or scrambling for sutures. It was a nice, easy job.

Ah, yes, some silence once in a while was good.

The abrupt thundering of footfalls on the deck broke the peace and quiet of the medbay, and Chakwas raised her head from Cortez's medical history to see the doors slide open and a frantic Tali with her patterned hood very nearly askew burst through them. She whirled around like a wild, haggard animal, her line of sight finally settling on Chakwas before stumbling towards her.

"Doctor! Oh, thank the ancestors, you're here. Please, I need your help! I don't know what happened, it started so suddenly! I wasn't watching but it suddenly just happened! I could have sworn– "

Chakwas dropped the datapad, standing from her chair and putting a hand on the young quarian's shoulder in an attempt to calm her.

"Relax, Tali. Everything's going to be all right," Chakwas undertoned in a slow, steady voice. "Now tell me, nice, slowly and from the beginning. What hap– "

Clank Clank CLANK CLANK CRASH

The two women whipped around to find Legion at the entrance this time. The geth appeared to have tried to squeeze in through the closing doors after Tali only to get caught between them, metal grinding against metal in an ear-splitting screech. The geth grasped both sides of the door with one hand each and forced them back open with a calm air that belied his earlier rush. His head swivelled over to meet Chakwas and Tali's dumb-founded stares.

"Doctor Chakwas, we believe this platform may be undergoing a slight problem."

"Oh, Legion!" came a sing-song voice from the floor. Chakwas's eye snapped down and she gaped in shock, covering her open mouth with her right hand as Tali grabbed her other one in a vice-grip. Sprawled bodily across the floor, with her arms locked around Legion's left leg as she rubbed her helmet against his calf like an affectionate kitten, was Admiral Daro'Xen.

"Oh, my beloved! The unrelenting walls of this ship may try to separate us, but my love for you will break down all that dare to part us!"

"Doctor Chakwas, please," Tali pleaded, seizing Karin's shoulders. "I think there may be something wrong with her – everything was perfectly normal one moment, but the next– "

"Oh beloved, my love for you is like a madly blooming rose on a misty spring morning– "

"– she started acting strange and fawning all over Legion like a lovesick teenager! Just out of the blue! And then – "

"– run away together! Just you and me, my darling! On our own little cliff on Rannoch where no one will bother us and it we can be alone together with– "

"Creator-Zorah, we wish to humbly request the removal of your admiral from this platform's appendage– "

"– actually tried to kiss him! Well, more bashing her helmet against his headlamp than kissing, but – "

"– world may be against us, but have no fear, my pet! Our love will encompass and defeat all, transcending the differences between organic and synthetic life and the discrimination of– "

"– getting all touchy feely and had her hands all over his– "

"Alert! Alert! Potential damage to mobile platform detected! Creator-Xen, that part of our anatomy is not suitably purposed for– "

Everyone in the room was abruptly cut off as Doctor Karin Chakwas tore herself free of Tali's death grip and stomped her way over to the mass of limbs that was Legion and Xen. Wrapping one arm around the quarian's midriff, she unlocked the admiral's clasping hands from Legion's knee and hip with a gentle but firm hand that bespoke years of practice. Xen barely even acknowledged the human dragging her towards a clean cot, still making grabby motions and disconcerting kissy noises at the geth as Karin plopped her down on the crisp covers.

"All right, now that things are a bit more under control – can you tell me precisely what happened?"

Tali wrung her hands together, flustered. "L-Like I said, she was normal one minute– "

"We suspect that this may be the result of Creator-Xen's consumption of the caocao product presented to us by Creator-Zorah– "

Tali's voice increased a whole octave as she whipped around to look at Legion, "You gave Xen chocolates?!"

Ignoring Tali, Karin kept her eyes set on Xen's unfocussed ones – quite a feat, considering the tinted visor in the way – and soldiered on. "So she started acting this way after she ate the chocolates?"

"Ah, my love, the geth of my heart– "

"Affirmative."

"Show them to me."

A moment of silence passed as Legion seemed reluctant to put himself in arm's reach of Xen again by approaching the cot, until Karin let out a sign and beckoned Tali to come closer.

"Here, keep a slight pressure on her shoulders and make sure she keeps sitting here."

Leaving the cackling admiral and the frantic Tali, the doctor stalked over to the geth standing stock still by the door and held out an expectant hand toward him, palm up.

Legion hesitated, and stared straight through her – reminiscent of veteran soldiers going through PTSD. After another long, drawn-out moment, the geth reached out and dropped a slightly battered, once-white box into her hands.

Grasping it and lifting the lid, Karin scrutinised the contents. Of the chocolates, only two pieces of luxurious, handmade pieces remained. Karin pinched one between her fingers and raised it to eye-level, surveying it critically. It didn't look anything out of the ordinary. But ….

Karin gave it a whiff, taking in its scent and a frown crossed her features. Wait a minute. That wasn't right. There was the aroma of chocolate, for sure. But a hint of something else as well. Something that did not quite belong … and then it clicked.

Somewhere in the background, Xen giggled.

"I see."

"What? What do you see?" Tali demanded as she fended off a squirming Xen struggling to escape her grasp.

"Uninhibited infatuation, excessive salivating, tasteless poetry, single-minded obsession on a fixed individual, the signature scent – all the symptoms are there. There can be no doubt."

Tali chanced a glance up at Chakwas, still restraining a squeezing Xen. "What? What is it?"

"Amoranuvem," Chakwas replied, rolling the oh-so-innocent piece of chocolate in her palm. "A potent 'love potion' as romanticists like to call it. Of course, if you ask me, I don't put much stock in its supposed 'magical' properties, but I cannot deny that it is mysteriously effective …"

"Will you be able to provide us a cure, Doctor Chakwas?" Legion tittered, daring to take a step closer. Xen swooned, murmuring something about his long, inorganic legs as she sunk into a limp puddle in the cot while Tali hovered over her helplessly.

"A cure? No, I'm afraid there is no cure. The effects of Amoranuvem are only temporary however, so we will just wait until it gets out of her system– "

"Oh, Legion, baby!" Xen sighed as she fanned herself from her prone position on the cot. "Don't want to have some cuddle times in bed with meee?"

There was another, even longer bout of silence as everyone in the room stared at her. Then Legion began to back out of medbay, walking backwards while keeping his attention fixed on Xen like a mouse would be wary of a waiting cat.

" … We should go."

And with those words, the geth was gone faster than anyone could say, ''that was my line!'

Tali stood woodenly still from shock at this new revelation, until Chakwas broke it by asking, "So, who made these anyway?"

There came another Xen-giggle, "Oh, Legion, sweetie!"

Falling in love was an art, and she was a master.

"So," Snape barked, sweeping around the classroom like a panther about to pounce as he surveyed the class full of students. "I would assume you are all competent enough to know of Amortentia, the strongest love potion in existence. After all, some of you were misfortunate enough to bear witness to the … effects of its lesser varieties last week."

A round of sniggering circled the Slytherins and Malfoy gave Ron a particularly rude hand gesture. Ron went as red as his hair and made to stand from his chair, but a yank on his robes from Harry got him back on his seat before they attracted the Potions Master's notice.

"So who can tell me," he had reached the front of the classroom again and turned around in a light breeze, cloak settling behind him as his eyes picked them out. "What is the second strongest love potion known to the wizarding world?"

Hermione's hand shot up – to nobody's surprise. "Please sir, the Amoranuvem is popularly known as what could have been the strongest love potion of them all, having effects almost twice as strong as that of the Amortentia and roughly three times the long-lasting effect. However, major drawbacks in the Amoranuvem have caused it to be denied this status, primarily because it makes the drinker fall in love with whomever gave them the potion instead of falling in love with the maker of the potion. This provided enough of an element of uncertainty that it was impractical for normal use and was thus not very popular among young witches or warlocks. However– "

"Ms. Grainger, I believe you have said enough," snapped Snape as he flicked the book in his hands shut. "I do not recall giving you permission to speak at length nor out of turn. Please remain silent. Ten points from Gryffindor"

It was hard, but Hermione bit her lip, complied without argument and sunk into her seat with nothing more than a deflated puff. Ron gave her a sideways glance and an awkward pat over the shoulder. "Don't worry, Hermione. Think about this – I'm sure some poor old sod somewhere has gone ahead and brewed an Amora-whatthis without knowing what it actually does. Think about all that trouble it would cause."

Though she fought against it, Hermione couldn't help but feel the edges of her lips twitch into a smile as her frown was broken.

Meanwhile, elsewhere on a Citadel far, far away, Doctor Chloe Michel sneezed.

A/N: Finally, it's done! :D I'm really uber sleepy, so I'll keep this short.

This is my entry for the April 2014 contest in the Afterlife forums (link in my profile)! I thought about also making it slightly romance related since I missed doing a thing for Valentine's this year. The name 'Amoranuvem' is a mash-up of languages. Amor from the Latin 'love' and 'nuvem' is a mix between Latin and Spanish for 'nine', a reference to the song 'Love Potion Number Nine'.

Thank you to my amazing betas (Palaven Blues and Lady Amiee) for giving me such tremendous help on this story! I enjoyed writing it and I hope you enjoyed reading it just as much. :3