Next was Herbology. Naturally, the day the whole school found out I was shacking up with Draco would be the day we'd have to stand before our peers and give a presentation. My mouth went dry as we slid into our seats.

Relax, you bloody chicken. The project is complete, we have all our materials, the presentation will go fine.

My internal self-assurance did not, in fact, assure me. I truly did not care that they all knew, it was the supposed importance I knew it'd have to them that bothered me. They'd all be offering me different looks, as if to say 'acknowledge my opinion of your situation.' As if it mattered!

Irritation replaced my discomfort, and I grimly thought this is an emotion I'm more familiar with.

As class began, Sprout announced we'd all have five minutes each to give our presentations, so we'd have enough time to get through them all, and the class breathed a sigh of relief. My irritation only grew, though, when I thought about all the time and effort we'd wasted. If we were only supposed to produce five minutes of material, we could've just picked a single book from our list.

Draco undoubtedly picked up on my increasingly foul mood, but said nothing as the first pair stood to present. Their project was about some magical fungus, where it was commonly found, what they were used for, and all manner of random facts about them. I barely listened, mulling over how little effort they'd clearly put into their work. My heel tapped against the floor beneath my desk as I leaned my chin into my palm.

Honestly, we could've waited until the last minute to scrape some bullshit material together if this is where the bar's been set.

The class gave a half-hearted applause as the first pair finished, and returned to their seats. Next up was two girls who'd researched some flower or other that could be used in love potions, and my desire to kill myself grew.

Seriously, the information we learned could save lives, and everyone else has just researched innocuous shit. Draco and I could've been spending our time… Differently. I huffed. Still, if not for the time we spent in the library, we mightn't have gotten so close so quickly. It's just my underachieving nature that's making me so pissed that we worked so hard on it.

Thank god, Hermione and Ron were next. She, of course, did most of the talking about how planting certain herbs in different types of soil affected the herb's usefulness. They'd even done their own experiments, and presented several potted plants to the class. Impressive as always. She could really teach any subject, I reckon.

Finally, we were next. I stifled a groan as we made our way to the front of the class. Expressions ranging from intrigue, to embarrassment, to disgust, to bewilderment littered the faces before us, but I only rolled my eyes as I introduced our topic.

"So," I cleared my throat. "We decided to research antidotes, and the different herbs that are used in them. It was all very medical, but basically, what we learned is that there are two types of antidotes: ones that bind to the poison or venom or what-have-you, and then are expelled from the body, and ones that attack the whatever and break it down."

"For things like venom or some harmful serums, you only need to extract it, but for poison, it's critical to have your antidote completely destroy it once it's in the body. If you don't want long-lasting side-effects, that is," Draco chimed in.

"Right. It's also just as important that you know what exactly has been introduced into the body, to properly counteract it." As I continued on my explanation of which herbs were most effective in which kinds of antidotes, I felt Draco's hand surreptitiously rest on my lower back. This contact seemed to suck my irritation out of me, just like the antidotes we were describing. My tense shoulders relaxed and the words coming from my mouth sounded less and less harsh by the minute. Somehow, we were able to sum up everything we'd painstakingly researched by the time our five minutes were up.

All that work for just a five-minute explanation. It's just as well. Now I know not to take these things so seriously, even if Draco insists. It's not like I'm trying to impress him with my academic prowess, anyway.

As we returned to our seats, I was surprised to hear a more than half-hearted applause from our peers. Hermione beamed at me proudly, and the corner of my lip quirked in return.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" Draco whispered to me as the next pair began their presentation. My eyes rolled again, but I withdrew the journal page to respond.

'I feel stupid for having put so much work into that'

'Like us, Ron and Hermione were the only ones who took this seriously'

'Exactly! I wonder how Sprout will grade us'

'She'll HAVE to curve it after hearing ours. Wouldn't be fair to the rest of the class'

We snickered quietly as the presentations continued. It was all very mind-numbing, and my thoughts began straying toward this morning, when suddenly an idea interrupted them. Frowning, I quietly withdrew my Basic Charms and Spells textbook from my bag, flipping it open to M. Draco eyed me curiously as I looked up a certain Latin suffix used in some offensive spells. Once I'd found it, a glimmer of hope lit within me. Grey eyes were still trained on my book, and I vigorously circled the following definition: 'Mordre - to bite' and then scrawled in the margin, 'ANTIDOTE.'

I cast a triumphant glance up at Draco's awed reaction. He shoved his sleeve up to eye his Dark Mark, frowning at it before lowering his quill back to our note.

'It can't be that simple, right?'

'Was Riddle really all that complex?' Draco traced his fingers over the still-healing scabs on his arm as I continued. 'Mors means death, obviously, so if we can find an antidote for death' My quill stilled as I realized the implications of this, but I hadn't found the rest of the sentence before the page slipped out from beneath my hand.

'Might not even mean literal death. Hell, Death Eaters don't literally eat death'

'You're right. What would you say Death Eaters DID feed off of?'

'Terror'

Our eyes met as the realization clicked for us both.

'What would be an antidote for terror?'

Draco flicked his quill back and forth as we contemplated this. An entire presentation came and went before either of us could come up with an answer. Draco was the first to take a guess, though.

'Dissociation? Courage?'

'You're still terrified when you stop dissociating, though. And courage doesn't necessarily mean you're not afraid.'

Back to square one. What is the antidote for fear? Peace? That's not really applicable, though, because the Mark is still there even though Voldemort's gone.

My spine straightened as the answer found me. Draco's intense curiosity turned to my face just as warmth spread through my cheeks. Hesitantly, I lowered my quill back to the surface of the page.

'Love?' My hand wrote slowly. Draco's eyebrow quirked as I glanced sideways at him. Hastily, I explained my thought process. 'When V' I scratched out the V and continued, 'Riddle tried to kill me as a baby, my mother's sacrifice cast some sort of protection spell over me that ended when I turned 18. If love can bounce the Killing Curse off me effectively enough to slay the caster'

A look of awe overtook Draco's curiosity as his eyes raked over my clumsily scrawled message. He turned this look up at me, and I shrugged. Snatching the page back, he replied with a short answer.

'You're a fucking genius'

Pleasure, and embarrassment, warmed my cheeks further. I offered him a smile, but swallowed when I saw the same awe-struck expression glowing in his eyes at me.

'Don't give me too much credit here. We still don't know if it's actually possible'

'Harry' he began his reply, casting a sharp glance up at me. 'You ACCIDENTALLY Legillimens me in my sleep. You should give yourself more credit'

The flush in my cheeks crept into my neck as I tore the page back to reply.

'I can't exactly control what I do accidentally though, can I?'

He seemed to deliberate a moment before responding.

'I have some ideas. Meet me outside the Room of Requirement tonight?'

'Of course' came my immediate reply. Still, a certain caution invited my next response: 'What did you have in mind?'

He didn't respond through words. Instead, what I found was a smug kind of grin on his face.