Chapter 4: The Potion

Her large brown eyes snapped up at him as he flung open the door.

"You're late," she said flatly.

Draco smirked in response, brushing a few errant hairs out of his eyes.

"Were you missing me, Granger?"

"Hardly," she snorted, crossing her arms. "Did you even bring anything we needed?"

He shut his eyes, massaging his temples. So this is what he had to look forward to, every night for the next month?

Brilliant.

"Yes," he sighed, exasperated. "I have the cauldron – "

"Copper, not pewter. Correct?" she asked primly, her lips pursed delicately.

"Correct," he said, rolling his eyes. "I'm not Weasley, you don't have to assume I've made a mistake before I even walk in the door – "

"If we're going to do this," she interrupted, "I won't have you making fun of Ron. Or Harry."

"Or else what?" he mocked. "You're going to put your hands on your hips and give me a stern talking-to?"

She already had her hands on her hips, as she normally did when speaking to him. He saw her look down and readjust her position.

"No," she said, unconvincingly.

As much as he wanted to revel in the glory of silencing the great Hermione Granger, he was in a hurry. He had been working on something when he looked up and saw the time, and he was anxious to get back.

He did, however, take a moment to take in Granger's appearance. She had pulled her hair into a ballerina bun high on her head, some wisps floating around her face. She was still in her uniform, although her shirt was now untucked and rolled up at the sleeves. She stepped forward, taking the cauldron from his hands, and sat cross-legged on the floor. He watched her skirt ride up as she took a seat, taking in the view of her slender legs.

"Are you going to help me?" she asked pointedly.

"Don't beg, Granger," he replied, taking a seat across from her. "Let's do this as quickly as possible."

"Oh don't worry Malfoy. I have no intention of lingering," she snorted.

For a while they didn't speak outside of the necessary; she merely listed ingredients out loud and he handed them to her.

"Do we have, er . . . lionfish spines?"

"Yes, next to the salamander," he replied, impatient.

"Salamander?" she echoed, startled. "But we only need salamander blood."

"Yes, and where do you suppose that comes from, Granger?" Draco asked, eyebrow raised.

"Are you telling me we have to murder this salamander?" she asked, horrified.

Draco shook his head, exasperated. "No, we don't have to murder it," he sighed. "If you want, we can stupefy it. We only need to extract a small vial."

She looked at him curiously, tilting her head. "Hmm," she murmured.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing," she said melodically.

"What?" he snapped, annoyed.

"I'm just surprised," she said, shrugging. "That's very humane of you."

He rolled his eyes dramatically. "So because I used my considerable intellect to come up with a way not to kill a tiny lizard, I've somehow risen in your estimation of me?"

"My estimation is so low, you see," she said sweetly, "that nearly anything would raise it."

He mouthed her words back to her in an exaggerated imitation. "Just hand me the salamander, then – keep stirring, coun – "

"Counter-clockwise, I know," she snapped, groaning. She swatted her hand at him, adding, "Just take care of that."

She looked away, focusing on the cauldron in front of her. The initial ingredients needed to be added with extremely precise timing; he could see the concentration furrowing her brow. She occasionally mouthed along the number of seconds as she kept time, trapping her lower lip between her teeth as she paced herself.

Draco pulled out his wand and cast a simple charm on the salamander, quickly knocking it unconscious. Really, this is what impresses her, he thought, shaking his head. Somehow all my prowess as a wizard comes down to this.

He muttered an incantation to remove a small sample of blood, moving the tip of his wand from the salamander to a glass vial. A dark, spidery thread of liquid began to form in front of him; he swallowed hard, willing himself not to look away. Lizard or not, blood was still blood, and he had yet to drown out the sound of Jugson screaming in his ear.

Don't, he'd begged. Don't. . . Please . . .

Draco felt a sharp pain in the base of his skull. He blinked rapidly, eyelids heavy. The pain seemed to be spreading over his scalp, like a frost. He felt himself grow cold, as a shiver flew up his spine and shot into the depths of his mind. Attempting to shake it, he quickly and forcefully shut his eyes as a foggy vision at the forefront of his thoughts began to clear.

He was standing alone –

No, not alone. There were people circled around him, maybe hundreds of them. They were all watching, their eyes hungry and expectant.

Draco had his wand raised; he was vaguely aware that he had just cast a spell –

Nothing strong enough to kill –

Maybe he didn't know yet that his life was in danger? –

He was awaiting a response –

He couldn't see his opponent, whose face was darkened. He was distracted by something on his right, by someone – that was his mistake.

He didn't hear the spell, he didn't shield himself in time.

He felt himself thrown backwards, suspended in the air;

He saw his veins burst open

And his blood run down his arms

And pore out of his chest –

As he hit the ground he heard a scream, a woman's scream.

He knew that voice . . . he tried to stop her, to reach her, but his eyes, they were so heavy . . .

and the blood . . .

"Malfoy!" Hermione was shaking him. He heard panic in her voice. "Malfoy, wake up! Can you hear me?"

He was lying on his back like a corpse, limp. Hearing her voice, he tried to sit upright; but feeling his head swim, he shut his eyes quickly.

"Don't, don't try to sit up yet," Hermione urged, her hands on his arm. "Just – just take a minute."

He swallowed, his throat dry.

"Did you – " she whispered, "did you see something?"

He turned his head slowly to look at her. Hair had come loose, framing her face; from the clutter of overturned materials behind her, he could see that she had rushed towards him, forsaking the potion. She must have been doing something right up to that point, though, as it now had a metallic hue, like liquid gold. He looked back at her and thought he saw the same gold in her wide brown eyes, wider even than usual with concern for him. He felt her palms on his arm, steadying him.

"Why – " he started, wincing as his voice broke, "Why would you think I saw something?"

She tucked a chestnut tendril behind her ear, biting her lip anxiously. "Malfoy, you were . . . you were screaming."

He only looked at her.

"Sometimes," she began slowly, "sometimes, when Harry gets visions – "

At this he shot forward, ignoring the dizzying pain and the roaring in his ears.

"Don't," he hissed, teeth clenched, "don't compare me to Potter – "

"It's not a comparison, Malfoy!" she exclaimed, agitated. "It just happens to him sometimes, I didn't – "

"I'm not your friend, Granger, I'm not one of your gal pals like Weasley – "

"What does that even mean?" she cried, frustrated.

"It means leave me the fuck alone," Draco finished bluntly. He didn't plan to share that particular vision with her.

There was a palpable silence for a moment as she rose gracefully to her feet, smoothing the creases in her skirt.

"Would you like me to help you up, or should I save that for my gal pals too?" she asked flatly.

"I'm fine," he responded, standing. He was equally expressionless. "Did you – "

"Yes, I got it," she said, gesturing to a small vial. "You passed out right after collecting it."

He nodded, leaning over to dust himself off. When he returned upright, he found her still staring at him.

"What, Granger?"

"What, are we just supposed to carry on like nothing happened?" she said, hands raised. "I mean, are you . . . okay?"

He ignored her. "What step of the potion are we on now?" he asked, deliberately obtuse. She sighed, putting her hands on her hips in resignation.

"Just have to stir every ten minutes for the next hour," she responded quietly. She perched on a desk behind the cauldron, which sat in the middle of the classroom floor; he took a seat on the desk opposite her, rubbing the base of his head.

The first ten minutes went by in absolute silence; every now and then he would reach over to test the viscosity, or she would adjust the temperature. As they watched the clock tick to the first time increment, they both reached for the cauldron at the same time. Ultimately he conceded, allowing her to stir the potion.

Resettling herself on the desk, she exhaled loudly, causing him to snap his head up.

"What, Granger?" he growled for the second time.

"Why does it bother you so much that I would compare you to Harry?" she asked, looking at him with genuine curiosity. "Why – "

"I don't enjoy being compared to your incompetent friends, Granger, and I'll thank you not to do it again," he said curtly. "And if that's all – "

"I just don't see why, after all these years, you still can't acknowledge that Harry really is a great wizard – "

"Harry Potter is not a great wizard," he snorted. "He just sticks his nose into everything and then relies on luck and better wizards. Even he can't say why he lives every time he faces You-Know-Who, he just has to wait until afterwards for Dumbledore to explain it to him – "

"Everything he's done, you think it's just luck?"

"It is absolutely dumb luck," he said back emphatically. "What has he actually accomplished? Look at the philosopher's stone – "

"He took that right out from under You-Know-Who's nose – "

"Not by skill! Just by being pure of heart," he sneered. "I should think you would recall that without you and Weasley – oh, and speaking of Weasley – "

She sighed, frustrated. "Do you have to bring Ron into this?"

"What is Weasley without Potter, exactly?" Draco asked, leaning forward. "What would Weasley have accomplished on his own, without Potter dragging him along, or without you clearing the way for him – "

"What do you mean – "

"Oh shove off, Granger, we all know what you did to McLaggen," he said pointedly. "Weasley is nothing without his friends."

She was silent for a moment. "So you're upset that I'd lump you in with Harry because, what, because he's – "

"Don't think for a second that I won't notice you changing the subject," he said, standing. "You have nothing to say to defend Weasley, do you?"

She scoffed, not meeting his eyes. "Of course I do! Ron is – he's – "

"Mmhmm," he said, smiling. "Of course he is. You know, we are who we associate with, Granger – "

"Oh that's rich!" she exclaimed, lunging forward. "You're one to talk about who we associate with! You really think Crabbe and Goyle are so impressive – "

"Crabbe and Goyle do what they're told," Draco replied, unfazed.

"And you – of course you'd turn out to be such a bully, just like your father – "

She had gone too far. He instantly began stalking towards her, relishing the look of anxiety that darkened her eyes. He kept walking until he'd forced her backwards, colliding with the desk. He slammed his hand down on the desk behind her, maintaining eye contact, while his heavy M signet ring clanged onto the hard surface. He wanted to make sure she never forgot.

"Do not," he said, in a harsh whisper. "Do not, ever, talk about my father."

She looked up at him defiantly.

"If you think you're going to intimidate me, Malfoy," she said, "you're very wrong."

He ran his tongue along his lower lip and bit down, holding back an angry retort. He could see the barely perceptible freckles dusting her nose and cheeks, the brilliant flash of her gold-tinged eyes, the look of rebellion under her long lashes. She smelled like vanilla, and maybe some kind of flower. Either way, it was intoxicating.

They both seemed to notice at the same time that he'd put one hand low on her hip, pinning her to the desk behind her. The other remained near the small of her back, where he'd brought his hand down behind her. She, in response, had put her hands flat against his stomach, gripping his abdominal muscles. He flexed instinctively and her eyes widened as she dropped her arms to her sides. He released her quickly, taking a few rapid steps back.

He stared at her, watching her cheeks flush, before finally turning to stir the cauldron for the second time.

"Counter-clockwise," she called, voice cracking.

"I know that, Granger, this isn't my first day," he said, back still turned, secretly relieved at the break in tension. Arguing with her felt much more natural than whatever had just happened.

When he turned to face her again she had resumed her seat on the desk. He suddenly felt a little lightheaded as he withdrew from the cauldron.

"A bit wobbly, are we Malfoy?" Hermione called.

"A bit too much proximity to the early stages of the potion, I think," he said back, smirking. "Don't stay too close, Granger, you might find I have the same effect."

She rolled her eyes. "As though you'd have any effect whatsoever on me, Malfoy."

"Of course not," he said mockingly. "Not when there are such gallant men like Weasley in the world to keep you moi – "

"He's a much better man than you are," she retorted, cutting him off.

"He's barely half the man I am, Granger," he replied derisively.

"Hardly! Ron is kind, and sweet, and funny – "

"All the same characteristics of, I don't know, a bunny rabbit?" Draco guessed.

"Not just!" she insisted. "He's also brave, and – "

"Is he, say, smart?" Draco interrupted, facetiously pondering aloud. "When you talk, does he keep up with you, intellectually? Does he challenge you?"

She looked stunned. "I – well, I – "

"Is he driven? Does he have goals, desires? Does he have any aspirations?"

"I – "

"When you're with him," he continued, "does your heart race? Do you feel an ache to be closer to him?"

"Just let me – "

"Does he excite you? Does he push your limits, does he test you, does he keep you on your toes?"

"Malfoy, you're not – "

"I'll answer for you," he said curtly, grinning mercilessly. "He doesn't."

"There are a lot more important things than all that," she said unconvincingly.

"Oh?" he smirked. "Like what?"

"Like . . . like friendship! And compassion – "

"Ah yes," he said sarcastically. "Friendship and compassion. The sexiest of all desirable qualities." He couldn't roll his eyes hard enough.

"Why does it have to be about sex?" she demanded.

"It doesn't," he shrugged. He was quite enjoying winding her up a bit, especially after his unfortunate show of weakness earlier. "Forgive me. I didn't realize the sex was so appallingly bad."

"It isn't bad!" she squeaked. She coughed, clearing her throat. "It's . . . well, it's quite good, act – "

"Oh!" he laughed. "You don't know, do you?"

"What?"

"You don't know if it's good or bad because you haven't fucked him yet," he said, smirking as he twisted the knife.

She drew herself up, affronted. "Whether or not we've – we've fucked" – this she said in hushed tones – "is none of your business, Malfoy. And not that I care what you think, but you're wrong about him."

"Doesn't matter if I'm right or wrong about him," he said casually. "I'm not the one who has to sleep with him."

At this point, Granger was fuming. The tendrils of hair that had escaped from her bun were hazily forming a halo around her face, framing her fury.

"Just get out, Malfoy," she said threateningly. "I don't need you for anything until tomorrow."

Draco didn't hesitate. He shrugged, flicking his wand to bring his bookbag up to his shoulder. "Don't fall in," he called over his shoulder.

Her anger was very convenient for him; he had better things to do, and as enjoyable as it was to rile her up, that wasn't his priority right now.

He fought very hard not to look behind him, though he was more than curious about the expression on her face; he pictured her, her sleeves pushed up, holding her hands on the curves of her hips, biting her lip in frustration. He imagined her loosening her school tie, cursing him, raking her fingers through her hair to return the wayward locks to their normal position.

He imagined his name on her lips and felt a shiver creep up his spine.

But he knew better than to look back. He wouldn't make the same mistake he did this morning, when he'd needed one last glance at Granger's big eyes, to see them ablaze with the fire he had lit.

It was late when Hermione finally headed back to her dorm. She collapsed onto her bed, feeling the weight of her exhaustion, fighting the urge to think about what Malfoy had said.

He really is a stupid git, she thought.

His arrogance, his condescension, everything about him was infuriating. The way he argued with her over nothing. The way he mocked her and the people she loved. The way his touch burned through her body. The way her heart pounded when he drew up next to her ear. The way she could see a storm in his piercing grey eyes.

Stop it. Stop it now.

Hermione stripped down, putting on a thin robe. If there was ever a night to need to relax in the prefects' bath, this was it. She tucked her wand into the pocket of her robe and tiptoed quietly out of her room. She stumbled, briefly; her head felt like it was quietly spinning.

Even in her thoughts she saw Malfoy's face mocking her. The things he'd said about Ron . . .

Well, was he totally off base? As he'd been firing questions at her, she had given actual thought to the answers. Was Ron the most intelligent person she knew? Perhaps not, but that wasn't important.

Not yet, a voice in her head said. But in a few years?

She shook it off. Perhaps more irritating was that Malfoy had implied she didn't feel any chemistry with Ron.

He's crazy. Of course they had chemistry. Ron was –

She realized she had stopped outside of Ron's door.

Does your heart race?

Of course it does, she told Malfoy's face, stubbornly imprinted in her mind.

She knocked quietly on Ron's door, trying to steady herself.

"Hey Mione," he said brightly, opening the door and gesturing her in. "You're up late."

"I had . . . some things on my mind," she said evasively.

Ron raised his eyebrows, waiting. "Things?" he prompted, bemused. "Things like . . . ?"

She let her eyes sweep over him from head to toe. She'd always liked his height; it was certainly an attractive feature. His wavy red hair was thick and tousled in a good way, more carefree than disheveled. His eyes were bright and kind.

Not everybody's eyes need to be so penetrating, she thought, fighting the comparison between the blue and stormy grey.

"Ron," she started slowly. "Do you think I'm attractive?"

He seemed taken aback. "Of – of course I do," he admitted. "I think you're beautiful."

"But what about the rest of me?" she pressed. "Do you find me" – she waved her hands up and down, gesturing to the silk that clung to her body – "attractive?"

How she was saying these things, out loud, with no apparent modesty, was truly beyond her comprehension. Maybe Malfoy had been right – maybe the potion had a strange residual effect? She did feel a little bit lightheaded.

He swallowed. "Of course," he said, pausing. "How could I not?"

She smiled slightly, pleased. "I want to . . . to try something."

His smile faltered. "What – "

She stepped close to him, bringing herself up onto her toes and lightly grazing the side of his neck with her lips.

"I want to know what it feels like," she said, whispering into his ear. "I want to know what you feel like."

She thought she saw his hands shaking as he gently pushed her backwards. She couldn't decide if she was disappointed or grateful.

"Hermione, are you sure you know what you're saying? We only just talked about us, today . . . Have you – I don't know, were you – were you drinking or something – "

"I was not drinking or something!" she sputtered, annoyed. "I was working on my potion and I was . . . I was thinking about you."

When his expression didn't change, she turned to leave, humiliated; she felt her cheeks turn red and she pulled her robe closer to her body. Why hadn't she just taken a bath, like she'd planned? She stumbled slightly in her attempt to run – away, far away – out the door.

"Wait, you were working on your potion?" he asked, drawing her back.

"Yes," she answered steadily. "That's it."

"You mean you were with Malfoy."

"What? For a bit, yeah, I guess," she said, faltering.

Ron bit his lip, considering her answer. She could see the wheels turning inside his head.

"You're sure?" he asked, wrapping his hands around her upper arms and gripping them tightly. "You're sure this is what you want?"

"Yes, I'm sure," she said breathlessly. "I want to." She reached out her hand, dragging it lightly from his chest to the waistline of his trousers. "I want to do this with you."

She couldn't imagine where she was getting this from; it felt more like something she must have read while accidentally picking up one of her aunt's muggle romance novels. But, she'd started, so now she had to commit.

Ron sucked in a deep breath, holding it. Hermione let her fingers linger on the waistband of his boxers.

"Are you – "

She took a step back and slowly untied her robe, letting it fall to the floor.

"I'm sure," she whispered.

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters

Thanks, as always, for the reviews! Don't worry, Ron isn't going to turn into a "monster/cheater/death eater/abuser/rapist" (that review made me laugh). But there's a lot left in the story and there will be some bumps along the way for H/D . . .