"Gather 'round, everyone!"
Hermione fell into place beside some of her fellow Lions as she scurried to reach the front of the small crowd of sixth years who had been permitted to study Potions this year.
Professor Slughorn had taken some time babble about the art of potion making, his appreciation for passionate students and to reiterate classroom etiquettes. Hermione was sure he had also attempted to give the students somewhat of a pep-talk regarding the situation they had found themselves in, but it was all meaningless, really, so she zoned out instantly. She had met Slughorn on the journey to Hogwarts and while her need to be loved by her professors was as prominent as ever, she could not help but feel a little put off by his 'reassurance'. Slughorn did not know them; he had not been present in their lives for the last five years, so, in Hermione's opinion his words were empty. She did not doubt his sincerity, of course, but there is a certain discomfort that comes with hearing people you hardly know telling you that things will be fine. Things were far from fine. In fact, 'fine' was quite possibly one of the worst words used to describe anything; it tastes bland on the tongue and, more often than not, people used it as a pathetic attempt to cover up their genuine feelings. Hermione knew that because she had a terrible habit of doing so, too.
"...as I was saying, I brewed some concoctions earlier and have set them out here," he paused to smile awkwardly down at his students and waved his arms a little to raise the sleeves of his robes. "Any idea what they might be?"
Hermione instantly stepped forward, her hands clutching her books close to her chest and her steps a little unsure.
"That one there is veretaserum...it's a truth telling serum. Incredibly strong and forces the drinker to tell the truth."
She scuffled along a little to the next one,
"This is Polyjuice potion, it allows the drinker to take the form of another person. Terribly difficult make."
"And finally," she inhaled deeply, her brows knitting together trying to identify all of the different scents, "This-i–is amortentia. The most powerful love potion in the world. It's rumoured to smell differently to each person according to what attracts them. For example, I smell: Parchment, spearmint and-and apples and musk." Her voice trailed off into a whisper.
"Very good! Miss-..."
"Granger, Sir."
Slughorn racked his memory in search of previous students who might have resembled the young witch in front of him in any way but came to nothing.
"I don't believe I taught your parents at all, did I?"
Hermione quickly shook her head,
"Oh. No, Professor, my parents are muggles." She told him.
Hermione heard a muffled snigger from behind and she sharply turned to see Draco mumbling something to Theo, both of them grinning as they looked at her. Her gaze locked onto Malfoy's and her frown deepened. Prat. He was leaning against the table behind him arrogantly, with one hand shoved into his pocket and the other limp at his side carelessly clutching his book. She scowled.
"-Felix felecis, but it is more commonly referred to as...?"
"Liquid luck." Hermione quickly spoke up.
"Yes, Miss Granger, desperately tricky to make, disastrous should you get it wrong. One sip and you would find that all of your endeavours succeed. At least until the effects wear off." He chortled.
"So, this is what I offer each of you today. One tiny vial of liquid luck to the student who, in the hour that remains, manages to brew an acceptable draught of living death...recipes to which can be found on page 10 of your books."
Hermione hurried to make her way over to Harry and Ron, who had entered the class late both struggling for breath and pink in the face.
"What are you two doing here?" She whispered harshly.
"Well, McGonagall had told me that I can take this class becau—" Harry trailed off and straightened his back as Slughorn approached them, his expression thoughtful and his eyes flickering between the three of them.
"I don't mean to make you uncomfortable in any way, but I've been told that three of you have a habit of relying quite heavily on one another during classes. Is that right?"
"Oh, no, Professor. Hardly." Harry said flashing him a smile.
Hermione frowned.
What has gotten into him?
"Hmm," he hummed, and his mouth stretched into a smile, "I do think it would be wise to make arrangements so that I'm able to assess your individual talents…"
"Well, I just don't think we need to do any of that really."
Slughorn ignored Ron as he gazed around the classroom slowly, until his eyes landed on a certain table of Slytherins, and his face brightened.
"Ah!" exclaimed Slughorn. "Miss Parkinson, would you mind swapping seats with Miss Granger?"
Pansy crinkled her nose in disgust as she peered across the classroom at the golden trio and grumbled some not-so-subtle profanities under her breath.
Merlin, help me.
Hermione slowly rose from her seat and snatched her bag off the floor, directing her stare anywhere besides Draco Malfoy.
"Come on, let's move quickly now, we don't want to delay anyone else!" Slughorn ushered the two girls to their respective tables and Hermione frowned as she clumsily settled down on the seat beside Malfoy, ignoring the stares of the other two occupants of the table: Blaise and Theo.
"Now, everyone." Professor Slughorn called out, "whenever you're ready! Good luck. Let the brewing commence!"
"What's wrong, Granger? Slughorn worried you and Weasley would be bumping uglies under the table?" Draco sneered, earning sniggers from his fellow Snakes across from them.
Hermione felt her cheeks flush but lifted her stare to glower at the three of them angrily.
"Perhaps he needed me here in place of your unintelligent friend to prevent any nasty accidents, ferret." she retorted.
Godric, there was no way she was going to survive a whole year surrounded by three prats.
They fell silent for a long while, only speaking in low mumbles when requesting ingredients from one another and huffing when they knocked elbows. She had expected there to be a little more confrontation and yelling, but perhaps they had both matured beyond the need to insult one another too frequently.
Draco grunted as the Sopophorus bean in front of Hermione flung from beneath her blade and caught Draco on his arm.
"Are you bloody stupid?" He growled.
"Shut up, it barely touched you." She snapped.
"You can't even cut it right," he sneered, "although I wouldn't expect you to be able to with your inadequate muddy blood."
Blaise paused to glance between the two of them as Hermione fixed her mouth into a snarl and stepped a little closer to Malfoy, her shoulders hunched angrily, fists clenched at her sides and a thin sheen on sweat glossing her forehead.
"Inadequate muddy blood?" she seethed.
He nodded, "a complete disgrace."
Hermione felt her lips twitch upwards a little and she raised her chin to maintain her composure, "that's rich coming from Death Eater scum!"
Draco flung his arm out to shove her away, his eyes wide with fear and his heart thudding loudly against his eardrums.
"How the fuck—"
"Ow!" Hermione whined as the corner of the table jabbed painfully into her spine and she felt the wind knock out of her momentarily.
Draco smirked snidely, "good. Clumsy bitch."
"Foul git."
She snatched a few Sopophorus beans into her hand and flung them towards Malfoy, watching as a couple bounced off his chin whilst the others slid down his neck and crawled into his shirt. Hermione giggled.
"Oh, very mature, Granger, well done."
She stepped onto her tiptoes and peeked into Malfoy's cauldron, sniggering as she looked at the dark, lumpy potion and watched his stirring rod dissolve inside.
"What a bloody mess you've made."
Draco snapped his smoky eyes towards and sneered, "sod off, yours isn't any better."
And truly, Hermione had produced an unfortunate concoction filled with lumps and bubbles spitting out small golden sparks every few seconds.
Hermione frowned and let out a small hum of agreement, "Yes, I suppose I went wrong somewhere…I'm not too sure."
Draco blinked.
She was agreeing?
He scowled in annoyance. He could easily deal with a Granger who argued and disputed everything he said, especially any criticism he directed at her, but a version of Granger who was civil? Merlin, it felt like she was messing with him.
Draco allowed a cocky smirk to steal his features, "ah, the mudblood has finally realised her lack of skill."
Hermione turned back to face him with burning hazels and a foul glare.
"I wouldn't call top of the class a lack of skill, Malfoy. Do I detect jealousy?" Hermione's lips twitched upwards, "How does it feel constantly being second to a mudblood?"
Draco flinched. Granger was not supposed to call herself that. She was supposed to seethe and throw a bitch fit when he called her that. Why was she not responding how she usually would?
"Fuck you, Gra—"
"Merlin's beard, Harry! You've done it!" Professor Slughorn exclaimed.
Draco and Hermione jumped back from one another, cheeks flushed with anger and their eyebrows raised high as they turned their attention to the table a few metres from theirs to see Harry smiling smugly as Professor Slughorn tested the effectiveness of his potion.
"Of course, he got it right, Saint fucking Potter." Draco snapped at Hermione.
"He can't have possibly gotten it right! How did he get it right?" she asked him.
"I don't sodding know, do I?" He snarled.
After a few parting words from Slughorn and some grumbles of annoyance from Draco, Blaise, and Theo, they hurried to exit the classroom and Hermione frowned after them, her anger slowly seeping away and confusion settling in its place.
Potions was their final class for the day, so why the hell was Malfoy in such a hurry when he obviously had nowhere to be?
She quickly swiped her book into her bag and carelessly flung it over her shoulder with the intention to make her way back to Gryffindor tower to retrieve some books, then head to the library.
As she stepped out of the Potions classroom, Hermione felt a hand hook tightly around her elbow and dragging her around the corner to a dark, empty corridor.
"What the—"
"Shut up!"
Hermione's body seized with anger as she looked up into the eyes of Draco Malfoy.
"What in Merlin's name do you think you're doing?" she hissed, "let go of me, right now!" she demanded.
"No," Draco growled, "How the fuck did you find out, Granger?"
Hermione glanced down at her wand peeking out from her robes and she slowly tried to move her free hand to grab hold of it, but Draco was quick.
"I don't think so, mudblood." he snapped and grabbed her other hand tightly.
He pulled her forward closer to him, then shoved her back hard against the wall and Hermione felt a tingling pain crawl up her spine.
"Answer me!" shouted Draco.
"Find out what, Malfoy? I don't know what you're talking about!" insisted Hermione.
"Don't bloody lie, Granger. You called me a Death Eater back in there and I want to know just how the hell you know about that!" Draco lowered his head closer to Hermione's threateningly and she absently realised just how odd this all was.
They never made physical contact. Ever. Aside from a particular incident in third year, which involved Hermione's fist and Draco's face, of course.
Draco's fingertips pressed hard against the veins in Hermione's wrists, and she noted how cold his skin seemed to be. She frowned.
"Get away from me, Malfoy." Hermione said quietly.
"Answer the sodding question, Granger."
Hermione forced herself to roll her eyes and squirmed in his hold a little.
"Are you really stupid enough to think that The Order has no informants? Of course, we bloody know you're a Death Eater."
Draco ground his teeth together and glared harder at Granger.
"Who?"
Hermione scoffed, "Sod off, Malfoy," her lips pulled into a small frown, then, "I can't believe you've fallen low enough to actually serve The Dark Lord. Merlin, you really are pathetic!"
Draco flinched as her words smacked him in the chest and his grip on her wrists slackened a little, so she took the opportunity to grab her wand and within a single beat of his heart, the tip of her wand was pressed to his neck.
"It certainly didn't take you long to fall into your father's footsteps, did it, Malfoy?" She sneered.
"Don't mention my fucking father–"
A cruel smirk slid onto her face, "of course, you haven't seen him for some time now, isn't that right?"
"I'm bloody warning you, Granger–"
"I've heard a lot of terrible things about Azkaban," she continued, "the way it can drive a person insane–"
Draco staggered backwards away from her, his hands dropping hers and his eyes wide with fear, as though it had dawned on him that prison could be his reality one day.
"Something wrong, Malfoy?" Hermione taunted with gleaming eyes.
"Fuck this," Draco mumbled to himself, "I don't have time for this."
He snatched his bag off the floor and turned away from Hermione, his heart thudding loudly against his eardrums and a cold bead of sweat sliding down his spine.
Hermione followed his trembling figure with curious, squinted eyes and slowly slid her wand back into her pocket.
Where was he rushing off to?
She pushed herself away from the wall and maintained a large enough distance between herself and Malfoy so that he would not notice her, but still close enough to not lose sight of him.
She followed him for the next ten or so minutes until she reached the seventh floor of Hogwarts, slightly out of breath and more confused than ever. What on earth...
Hermione gasped as she rounded the last corner and smacked herself into the wall towards the side as she noticed three figures at the end of the corridor. Crabbe, Goyle, and Malfoy. She tilted her head to peek one eye around the corner, stilling her breaths and straining her eyes.
There was a low mumble of agreement and Hermione watched as a door materialised in front of the three Slytherins. The room of requirement.
Draco quietly slipped inside whilst his two pets seemed to stand guard outside, their expressions bored and a strong silence drifting between them.
Hermione's frown deepened.
She waited for a long time, hours perhaps, for something to happen. But nothing did. Her legs wobbled a little with fatigue, but her curiosity spurred her on and she kept one hand fisted around her wand just in case. Judging by the streaky purple hues that blurred the sky, Hermione guessed it was teetering on 7pm. The sun was slowly setting and Crabbe and Goyle had faithfully stayed by the wall at the end the corridor like two guarded henchmen.
She scowled.
Just as she had made the decision to walk away and head over to Gryffindor tower, she heard a grunt followed by the slam of a door. Hermione peeked through her curtain of curls and stifled a gasp at the sight of Malfoy. He looked bloody awful. His Slytherin robes had parted a little to reveal his white shirt drenched in (what she assumed to be) sweat and clinging to his chest and torso. His hair was completely dishevelled, as though he had run his fingers through it countless times. But it was his eyes that had shocked her the most. Merlin, he looked like he had cried, screamed and been through hell itself. Why were his eyes so red?
Hermione fumbled to cast a disillusionment charm as the trio slowly wandered in her direction and she struggled to still her breathing, her eyes following Malfoy with uninhibited intrigue.
She watched as he slowly waltzed past her and frowned at the sight of tell-tale tear tracks staining his cheeks and his red-rimmed eyes. Merlin only knew what had happened inside.
But she was going to find out even if it was the last sodding thing she did.
Hermione breathed a heavy sigh of relief as they walked away and out of her sight, with a quick finite she dropped her wand back into her pocket and headed straight to the library determined to find some pieces of texts about the room of requirement and if there was any possible way to find out what a person may have used it for.
Minutes passed by, or perhaps it was hours, she was not sure, but when she felt her concentration begin to waver and a cold breeze pushed its way into the walls of the library, Hermione decided it was enough for one night.
As it turned out, there was not a way for the castle to show anyone the previous occupant's needs for the room of requirement. At least, there was no written evidence to suggest that, so, Hermione decided to make a quick stop at Dumbledore's office before heading over to the dormitories. Surely, if anyone knew the castle, it would be Dumbledore.
"Professor?"
Hermione walked tentatively further into his eerily quiet office and peered around for any signs of life. Where in Merlin's name was he?
"Ah! Miss Granger!"
She jumped at the sound of his voice and turned to the ageing wizard with a nervous smile. He was stood by a large metal basin, which Hermione recognised to be the pensieve that Harry had told her about. Admittedly, she was rather curious about the particular object and was itching to use it herself. She wandered if being transported into another's memories allows one to see, smell, hear and feel everything they once could. After all, memories were made up of those things.
"What troubles you this evening, Miss Granger?" Dumbledore gestured towards his desk and Hermione silently followed.
"It's Malfoy, Sir."
He paused to glance at her.
"We...argued today, Professor." she frowned, "although that's nothing new, really." she mumbled under her breath.
"I noticed how quick he was to rush away from our final class," her cheeks flushed in embarrassment, "and...–well, I was rather curious, sir, so I followed him."
Dumbledore smiled somewhat fondly.
"I do not discourage my students from indulging in their curiosity, Miss Granger. I understand it provides extreme satisfaction when one finds what they have been searching for."
"Well, I have to admit it wasn't satisfying at all. If anything, my intrigue has built up further."
"Ah, but patience is its own reward. Perhaps a little more time and you shall find the answers in front of you."
In the blink of an eye, Dumbledore had strolled away from his desk, leaving Hermione with yet another frown and questions at the tip of her tongue.
What in Merlin's name was going on?