It was utterly pointless. Without doubts.
Hermione had kicked in every rock in the dumb forest while Draco shouted his throat dry, calling out his mother's name and not one unicorn had dared to get even relatively close – all of them ran away. It was disappointing at best.
At least some good was in the last day – she had found the Resurrection Stone. Hermione didn't tell that tid-bit of information to anyone out of fear, content to leave it at the place she managed to kick it – just under a bush, before Hagrid would have crashed it with his tones.
After accepting that, even though they were two of the brightest students, they could be wrong (sometimes), the two of them settled back to their routine. As it was Sunday evening, they were lounging in Myrtle's bathroom yet again. They had a lot of time for the potion – exactly until next day's lessons, –, and even though utterly tired and devastated, they both were stubborn and determined enough to continue on with this project and possibly keep working until dawn.
Hermione was chopping some more asphodel with Draco's knife while he was reading through his scratched notes, the more than twenty pages getting dog-eared, being crumpled and was colour coded by now as both of them had read them through at least a thousand time. The Essence of Spurius was hard enough to make – the counter potion was even harder as it turned out. They needed to be careful, she even needed to ditch some lessons in favour of finishing the potion – and that was just for the preparations.
Hermione took another flower from the basket and cut of the blossom.
When she wasn't with Draco working on her medicine she was in the library. Hermione'd got every book off the shelves that had the littlest connection to human anatomy and changes the potions caused – she was eager to find out that with knowing the ingredients and the brewing process of both potions, what their mix would cause within her body. It was always interesting to synchronize muggle science with magic, and Hermione was determined to blend them together perfectly.
So far the only thing she was sure about was for the coma that the asphodel would cause, and the sticking effect of the minerals they needed to crush. Although she hadn't an idea what they supposed to be stick together.
Sighing tiredly, she put the last portion of the asphodel flowers into a minor cauldron and started heating it up – she just needed it to get the juices out of it, it was the first real step of their potion that had nothing to do with the preparations.
Just as she put it up to boil, the door swung open and Neville strutted into the abandoned bathroom, shocked to find smoke, cauldrons and books littered around, a giggling Myrtle and a scowling Malfoy within reasonable distant from the one and only Hermione Granger.
At first he froze in his steps, watching wide-eyed as he checked once again, and then, he simply went back from the way he came from with a sharp turn. Seeing his mortified expression for a moment, Hermione thought he looked as if he was through his first ride on a roller coaster.
"Neville!" she shouted after him, and he halted just in front of the door. Even though the thick smoke cloud, she could still see how a stiff and distrusting at that moment. He couldn't quite handle the situation he was dropped in as it seemed.
He glanced at Malfoy and gave her a questioning glance, but Neville still seemed too unsure to utter a word. He had no idea that Slytherins could only bark, they bit when they or the people they loved were threatened.
She felt it would be unfair to out their secret, so she didn't tell that Neville as a convincing reason to get him to stay.
"Please, just..., try it. Look at it from my side," she pleaded, reaching towards him. She saw him grip his bag harder, the stalk of the numerous plants hanging down to his feet. It was a miracle by itself that he hadn't tripped over them.
His eyes stuck on her bare left forearm and with this, narrowed, as he took in the angry red scar of 'mudblood' for the first time. Hermione looked away, and put her hand on it to cover it from him. Damn the temperature! She'd forgotten rolling up her sleeves – so did Malfoy, she realized when sneaking a glance at him for assurance. He turned a page, absolutely blind to the interaction taking place in front of his uppity nose.
She tried not to wince at the painful sensation when her skin touched the scars and she needed to bite in the inside of her cheek, lest she hissed from the pain. A little more pressure and she was sure, she'd pee herself.
But nor Neville nor Draco should know that.
"At this point, I think I can't, Hermione," Neville commented after a few calming breaths, oblivious to her trembling limbs. His tone was sad, but firm – it suggested he had no doubts in the issue. He absently looked up at the smoke that curled in the air like a fluffy, but translucent cloud on the sky. "Why are you doing this?" he asked the ceiling.
Hermione bit a little harder, drawing out blood. She didn't want to growl out her reply. "If I tell you, you'd drag more people in this than it's necessary," she stated after a bit of contemplating. "With Draco we have an agreement over this... issue. We're helping each other," she confessed quietly and moaned – the pain was increasing.
She yet again glanced at Malfoy for support or even to see if he was paying attention.
He hadn't flipped his notes in the last three minutes and it usually took him a minute and half to read a page. He was eavesdropping on them. Good.
"With Draco?" The usually peaceful boy's eyes flared up, giving a glance at the blond who still didn't move a muscle, full of hatred and condescending. Neville started fiddling with one of the magical plants in anger, his eyes blazed up.
Hermione was too tired for drama at this monument, "Yes, with Draco," she pressed on his name while looking straight into Neville's eyes, daring him to say more. Even without words, his opinion was radiating from him. "Neville, just give us the fucking dittany! Help us for me! Besides, you practically know nothing abou—!"
Suddenly she was unable to continue, the words frozen on her tongue and a scream tore her lips apart. The pain from her forearm amplified and crawled up on her entire body, forcing her on her knees as she gritted her teeth, perspiration appearing on her wrinkled forehead. It hit out of the blue just like any of the times, so hard that she was hardly able not to sob the next sentence she wanted to hurl at Neville.
She heard the two boys speak, or more like hiss at each other like angry tomcats fighting over food. Hermione didn't know what was happening around her, until she found perfectly grey, fogged eyes gazing back down at her. This was all she could hold onto. Faintly, she sensed that she was scooped up by Draco, but was unable to actually rationalize her thoughts not to mention her words. She mumbled something unintelligible.
The only thing she actually felt was the tranquillity and the soft and warm feeling which came from being held in his arms. She wanted to stay there – because the ache seemed to fade in his comfort.
Although, that didn't mean it stopped hurting like bitch. She was aware of her hot tears running down on her cheeks, even those burning her skin, and how her entire body was boiling, and the furious verbal match between the two boys, but didn't have the power to react. She just wanted to rest.
Draco cursed hotly when the moronic Gryffindor tried to stop him from getting Hermione up from the linoleum. Neville was adamant that he 'didn't deserve to hold her in his arms' and was about to take her out of his hands, but his arguments were silenced immediately when facing his freezing gaze. Also, it might've had something to do with the Dark Mark glinting mockingly at the man as his sleeves were still left rolled up in his rush to Granger.
"Just move, idiot," he scoffed and swiftly turned back toward the sofa, which was – thankfully – in the right size for Granger. Her lithe form fit there perfectly.
"Malfoy!" Longbottom started his hysterics. It was interesting, given the boy was actually scared of him in the last few year's span, "I demand answers! And don't ever let her see that thing on you, ever again!"
Knowing that Gryffindors' and their stubbornness were lost cases from the beginning, he sighed and with running his hand through his bleached blonde hair, he answered, "You have nothing to do with the business I have between me and Granger. She had choices and took my side for help, not her 'posed to be friends!" He lashed out and kicked where it hurt – right in the pride. He slowly got enough of the idiots jabbing his side every time he went anywhere in the damned castle – anywhere but the Slytherin quarters.
Neville huffed and shifted his bag from his left shoulder to the other, clearly getting the hang of things, maybe even getting ashamed as his words stuck to his mind, "You're an asshole. I want answers!"
Draco shrugged, crouching down to get his bag and stuff Hermione's mouth with the herbs that was supposed to stop this from happening. Snape either was wrong, or the Essence of Spurius was more effective than they thought. He didn't want to mull over the second option too much.
"I won't tell you more without Hermione's consent."
Neville sniggered at that, putting his hand on his hips as if imitating a troubled wife, scolding a meddlesome husband, "I understand neither of you. Why would she seek your help out ou of all of us? Or wait, better question: why would you help her? If you were helping her to begin with... Because the thing is, she'd just fainted on you! It doesn't seem to me that you're doing anything at all!" he accused, eyes flaring and seemingly ready to attack Draco.
He took his wand out and threw up a protego just in time to block Neville's nasty spell. He might have had bit of talent to manage that kind of spell – he wouldn't want to get the feel of imagined needles prodding in his skin, thank you very much!
"She'll answer you whenever she wants," he spit out, sardonically and getting out a bottle of water that they had stocked from the House Elves for the night camping in the bathroom. He simply tilted the bottle and was glad he hadn't got a drop on his clothes like he would've with aguamenti.
"What are you doing?" Neville demanded, stepping closer to him.
He rolled his eyes dramatically, "Trying to drown her," and then in a second, Neville was there, breathing down on his neck menacingly, observing every of his move. He knew if one more word, he might got hexed with an even nastier curse.
Neville started circling the sofa, waiting anxiously for the colour to come back on Granger's face. Even her usually rosy lips seemed translucent without her blood in there. "Just put the dittany down, Longbottom, and go," he instructed which earned him a dirty look.
He couldn't be more careless.
So he sat down beside the sofa, looking at the ceiling, listening to the bubbling of the asphodel's and entirely ignoring Neville Longbottom as he paced around the bathroom (like a freaking bloodhound) in the next two very long hours. He poked and watched everything with paranoid precision to Myrle's amusement. She knew for sure there was nothing dangerous there anymore.
She'd been living in here for the last fifty years – she was bound to know anything about it.
Longer than expected, hope you liked it! ;D Now, I'm really curious, what do you think now? I, personally, love the image of Neville going around school with an entire forest stuffed in his bag. And Hermione's magic x science combo? I always wondered why they didn't study e.g the Polyjuice's effect on human anatomy as the bones grew or hair grew or... yeah, I'm clearly a nerd.
Rhetorical question: do you want to see Narcissa? ;D