The Study of Attraction
Only Hermione Granger could have thought so many books necessary. The entire library table was crowded with leather-bound textbooks, both thick and thicker, stacked and balanced on each other, creating something of a small mountain around Hermione's chair. She was nose-deep in a textbook with a long, difficult-looking Latin name. The material, however, didn't seem to fully grasp her attention as she continually glanced up to glare at the empty chair in across from her. She knew he'd be late. She had completely bypassed dinner just to set up and gather the proper materials.
A few moments later, Draco Malfoy dropped into the seat across from her, watching her with an extremely sarcastic expression while taking in the mound of books. Without a word, he bit into the green apple in his hand, simply shaking his head.
"You're late," Hermione hissed.
Rolling his eyes, Draco held out his wrist to show a gleaming, silver watch. "Seven on the dot. Library clock is fast."
Feeling disgruntled, Hermione glared deeper. "There's no eating in the library."
"Fine," he said, tossing the core of his apple behind him and making a perfect shot into the wastebasket. "I'm sure you already have ideas. So—go ahead. Talk." He moved his hands in a shooing motion, leaning back and crossing his the ankle of one leg over the knee of the other.
Looking further annoyed, Hermione chewed her lips for a moment, but couldn't resist the invitation. "I think our best bet is Drought of Living Death. It's extremely difficult to make, but shouldn't take up too much of our time. Of course then, there's Polyjuice potion, arguably one of the most difficult in our text, but literally takes months to make. I think Felix Felicis is off limits to students—especially since you play Quidditch, "she spat the word with annoyance, "and everything else in the book is either too dangerous or too simple. We really want to impress Slughorn—it's the only garneted shot at a perfect score."
"What's wrong with Quidditch?"
"Excuse me?" Hermione asked, taken aback.
"You said, I play 'Quidditch' like it was a bad thing. What's wrong with playing Quidditch? Didn't your Hungarian boyfriend play it? Not to mention weasel and Potter," Draco said grumpily.
"I enjoy watching my friends play Quidditch every now and then, yes. That doesn't mean I especially commend you for playing—especially when it dampens our chances for possibly getting special permission to brew liquid luck."
"But you think it's impressive."
"What?"
"Quidditch. You think people who play Quidditch are impressive." It wasn't a question.
"I think those who have real talent on the Quidditch pitch must work hard to achieve it. But this is not important as it neither applies to our project nor to you," Hermione answered him icily. "Now, which potion do you want to work on?"
"Love potion."
Hermione's scowl left her face in surprise. "Are you serious?"
He set both feet on the ground, leaning his elbows on the table. "Why not? It's definitely difficult and takes several weeks to brew. Not to mention, some of its ingredients would be almost impossible to get our hands on, if it weren't for my connections, so we know no one else will be attempting it. And besides, Slughorn is all about flattery. We know very well that he favors it—half of his stories have to do with his experience with it. Besides, when brewed correctly, anyone near it is pleased by the scent. Can't go wrong with having him in a good smelling mood while he grades our project."
"A good smelling mood?" Hermione said doubtfully.
"You know what I mean. But it's fine, Granger, if you want to make a mediocre potion and earn a mediocre grade, then knock yourself out." He started to get up, but Hermione stopped him with a hand on his wrist.
"No, it's a good idea. I'm sorry," she admitted. "I'm just not used to agreeing with you. It's a good idea."
"Thank you I guess," he said, still put out, but sitting back down.
Pushing her hair back behind her ears, Hermione leaned uncomfortably over her book, flipping through it to find the entry for Love Potion. "You're right—the ingredients are extremely difficult. Can you really get all of this?"
"Yes. We should be able to brew Amortenia, actually. I think it would also be expedient to brew its antidote."
"That might even earn us extra credit," Hermione exclaimed, unable to mask her enthusiasm. "If you can collect the ingredients, then shall I write up the report?"
"Alright—just let me read over it before you hand it in, alright? I'll want to proofread it first."
"Please," Hermione said, smugly, "I'm top of the class. I think I'll be fine."
"Hey, he said our marks were 'nearly identical.' He never said which of us had the higher grade," Draco countered, getting up from his seat.
Hermione sat stunned for a moment, watching him as he strode up to Madam Pince's desk, leaning on one arm to speak to her. She looked disgruntled by the steady eye contact Malfoy offered her, her arms crossed as tightly as Hermione's. She was shaking her head, looking on the verge of breaking into one of her lengthy speeches when Draco fished a piece of parchment from her pocket and handed it to her. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise as she read it and Hermione craned forward in her seat to try to see it. Draco caught her eye and gave her a bored look, fiddling with the end of his silver and green tie. He tried to play off the look as uninterested, but the smugness showed through when Madam Pince handed him the slip of paper back and turned lead him toward the library shelves.
Hermione got up as they passed, running to catch up with them and catching Draco by the sleeve. Annoyed, he brushed off her hand, and continued batting at the white sleeve as if her touch had soiled it.
"What are you doing?" Hermione questioned him in a harsh whisper. "All the potion books are already at our table—didn't you see?"
"Who could miss them? With that number of volumes on potions you'll look like you're after Slughorn's job," he drawled. "It's ridiculous to go flipping through hundreds of books in order to put together a three page report, Granger. It's better to go straight to the source."
"I have every book that could possibly be a source for—"
"Not every book," Draco answered, just as Madam Pince opened the door to the restricted section. Arching an eyebrow, he followed the librarian into the rows of dark shelves. "You coming, Granger?"
Madam Pince had to use a rather old, large black key to open a case in the very back cover. The large book, bound in dark leather that she handed to Draco, was covered in a thin layer of dust, its title barely legible beneath the grime. Love Potion: A History of the Power of Obsession it read. Taking a shallow breath, Draco blew on the cover, sending the dust swirling in Hermione's direction. They walked back to their table, Draco nodding a thank you to Madam Pince.
"How could you possibly been allowed to check this out? It's a first addition—the only one available, as far as I know," Hermione demanded, unable to keep the excitement from her voice as she made to reach for the book.
"I have my ways," Draco answered cryptically, moving the textbook just out of her reach. "And, as you said, it is a very precious commodity. So I will not be the reason behind it being soiled by Mudblood hands." Hermione drew back, unable to contain the flinch the word always instilled in her. Continuing without a beat, Draco got up, tucking the book under his arm. "We should study tomorrow afternoon. Meet me on the seventh floor after lunch. You can put away the rest of these," he gestured to the tacks of books that consumed the table. "This is all we'll need." With that, he turned from the library, leaving Hermione to tidy the mountain of textbooks.