Disclaimer : Harry Potter and his world belongs to JK Rowling. We gain nothing from writing this except enjoyment.

A/N. After a month long hiatus, here's my second fan fic. I do not foresee it to be as long as The Cardinal Curses but then those who have read that story know to take this comment with a grain of salt. It is mostly wishful thinking on my part! My ambitious goal is to finish before the release of Book 7 even if much of it remains unwritten.

As TCC, The Purple Potion belongs to the Mystery/Romance genre and is a Post-Hogwarts piece. I hope to keep the suspense edgy and engage us all in the journey to unravel the story. I found as I was writing TCC that reviews not only encouraged me to write more often, a lot of them moulded TCC into the fic that it was. So really, if I fail in my goal to finish this before July, I am not the only one responsible!

A few quick warnings: The story is intended for a mature audience. There are themes of violence, character death, and sexual situations. You may find some of JK's characters not growing up as we think they should (and I should apologize to JK in advance for this) and some will voice out their objections more than others but I do hope that what I write is at least believable. I am a confessed, possibly delusional, HHr shipper but if you like all sweet, my fics are not for you.

Much of it is set in Toronto, a city which I am more familiar with. And, as a Post Hogwarts Fic, be prepared to meet a lot of new characters.

So, here it is...The Purple Potion. We begin the story with something that happened a year ago.

Prologue.

February 14, 2006, 11:03P.M., The Alpha Chelsea Hotel, Gerrard Street, Toronto

It was supposed to be an act; a pretence.

He was working a case; traveling from London as Roy Hunt, the slippery, clever crook he had trailed for two weeks and arrested not forty eight hours ago. His entire being was loaded with Polyjuice Potion to disguise himself so he could do the job he was supposed to do.

But what he was doing with her at the moment was not part of the assignment.

Their lips had been on each other, hot, steamy, even before they got off the lift. There was the groping and fondling, as his hands caressed parts of her he would have never dared touch before.

He should stop; he was her best friend.

She should stop; she was getting married in two weeks.

She was getting married in two weeks to his other best friend.

His treacherous act would definitely earn him a good beating and then some, unless he could convince both friends that he was trying to keep her safe from harm.

A tall, greasy dark haired man scowled as he walked past them kissing passionately just outside her tenth floor room. Just as he suspected, 'Greasy' would try again. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the man disappear into a lift.

Good. He was going to leave her alone, at least for now. Once he got her inside he could tell her the truth. Maybe.

He battled with his conscience. Lying was not right but the truth would be so hard to explain. He received specific orders not to blow his cover, particularly not to her. And besides, not only was it out of character for him to pass on an attractive woman wanting to have sex with him, he didn't really want to stop even at the expense of continuing to lie.

His senses swirled around as he got a whiff of her soft flowery scent while he left a trail of languid kisses along the length of her neck. Greatly encouraged by her involuntary positive vocal responses, there was now no denying him of the need she had stirred within; his need to hold her in his arms and do more.

Fumbling to unlock the door with her card key, they stumbled into her hotel room and she shut the door behind them, leaning on it. There was the thud of her purse as it found the floor. The momentum of their uninhibited intimacy spilled over inside the confines of the dimly lit space. His mouth quickly sought and crushed hers with a longing he never knew he had, surprised by her equally lustful response. Her arms were around his neck, clearly not wanting them to cease what they were doing. Her lips parted under his request and their tongues found each other, engaging each other, caressing each other, giving and taking, and neither seemingly getting enough. His lean muscular frame was pressed up against hers eliminating what was but a sliver of air between them. His pounding heart was going fast and he could feel the thumping of her chest against his. He reminded himself to breathe, but to do so would be to risk having that moment of sanity that was sure to put an end to what they were doing. Not only did he not want to stop, he really couldn't.

She broke it off by necessity. He could feel her labored breathing, as short and as shallow as his. Her shoulder length brown hair was quite disheveled from his handling. Her brown eyes were glazed with the same raw desire he saw a few minutes ago. She was searching him, like he was her, for some sort of direction on how to proceed.

Are you sure this is what you want?

They had talked about this, earlier that night. It was a suggestion of a last fling, so she could at least experience being with someone else other than the man she was going to spend the rest of her life with. Preferably someone she did not know and someone who she would never have to know. No attachments. Just sex. Far away from where her real life was. Maybe he should remind her.

"You're getting married in two weeks," he finally said as he traced the outline of her face lightly with his fingers, looking deeply into her eyes. He wanted her so much but was saddened by what she doing.

She replied as she continued to look at him, "I know."

He could hear her think and wondered what was going through her mind. Before he could ask, she slid her fingers down from his neck and began loosening his tie, determined yet trembling. It came off and disappeared from view.

She had made her decision. It was so confusing, feeling disappointed that she had compromised her ideal for something so fleeting as the casual contact she was about to engage in, but ecstatic that it was with him. Only, he knew he could have been anyone else.

"You're getting married in two weeks," he repeated softly into her ear, closing his eyes, shutting out the yelling voice in him that was commanding him to stop.

"Twelve days actually," she corrected him almost whispering, slowly sliding his jacket off his shoulders and arms onto the floor. Her touch seemed to easily make it through the material of his shirt, driving him crazy.

She continued, "I don't know you…"

Not true…you actually do…

"You don't know me…" she said as her hands began working on the buttons of his shirt, helping him get out of it.

But I do know you…

She nibbled on his lower lip. He nibbled back; who wouldn't? He slowly caressed her shapely body. She was as nervous as he was. Shoes were unnecessary as they made their way closer to her bed.

"No one else can know…" she reminded him as he watched and assisted her out of her black dress, revealing a most provocative lingerie that left not much to imagination, a magnet that made him want to touch her even more.

"Of course not," he replied as they deepened their kiss, his hand, finding its way up her thigh and over her soft lacy underwear. She shivered and moaned against his lips as he slipped his fingers in and touched her. Words were not necessary beyond that.

If only she knew that since announcing their engagement six months ago, he had wanted her like this, with unimaginable lust. Not really understanding or knowing why, he couldn't confess or do anything about it. He didn't know what it meant; he didn't know where this was going; he didn't want to say anything he would regret.

He lifted her with his strong arms and took her into bed. In no time at all, she had unfastened his trousers, allowing it to come off, and saw to the loss of the remaining piece of garment he had on. She threw away all inhibition and allowed herself the pleasure of another man's body, a stranger.

For a fleeting moment, as he pulled her lingerie off to reveal her striking nakedness save for the small black covering between her legs, a question in his mind begged to be acknowledged. How could she do this?

But it seemed that at that point, what mattered only was that she was doing it. He could lie to himself and say that this was for her, so she could get what she wanted. Or that his best friend did not deserve to marry her. But truthfully, this was now all about him; his want, his need. She was getting married in twelve days. This could be his one chance to be with her, the one time she would let her guard down and allow it. He had to quench his thirst or risk feeling this way about her for the rest of their lives.

And besides, they promised each other. Whatever happened in Toronto would stay in Toronto. She would never see Roy Hunt after tonight and there would be no need for her to know that the man she was making love with was someone else.

A/N. Short but I hope interesting enough. Let me know either way.