Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of his little friends. Just this plot line perhaps, if I'm lucky.

Hello readers! Sorry it's been a while, inspiration's been running a bit dry recently, but I'm trying to get back on track. Don't stop reading and reviewing for me – I'm very open to suggestions. Thanks a lot, here's chapter 16.

A Secret Failure

Unicorn mane hair…toadstool…Unicorn mane hair…toadstool…

Harry repeated these few ingredients over and over in his head as he perused through hundreds of dusty potions tomes…searching. Searching for a sign, a clue, even just a whiff as to what this mysterious potion was that Malfoy seemed to be surreptitiously brewing.

Unicorn hair…toadstool…Unicorn hair…toadstool…

After hours of tediously turning the thick parchment pages of many out-of-date medieval commentaries on useless potions, potions of which would be no attraction to a Malfoy, Harry was about ready to give up. But then something caught Harry's eye as he flipped through 'Potions Which Ensnare the Mind'. His eyes widened like big green-rimmed saucers as he read the description.

The Love Potion (or Aphrodite Acidalia Serum)

This potion, if brewed properly, will have an infatuating effect on the consumer. The consumer will fall into a deep ardour for its brewer, the strength of this feeling; however can be controlled by the amount of unicorn hair used. Brew carefully at risk of permanent brain-damage.

Amongst the ingredients to be used (many of which sounded very hard to come by) were unicorn mane hair and an obscure sounding fungus. Harry was sure Snape's cupboard would be one of the only places to come across these obscure tools, and his heart beat rapidly with fear and fury when the realisation of the situation dawned on him.

Is Malfoy forcing a false love onto our poor Hermione?

It certainly explained a lot.

Rain crashed from the skies as the Slytherin team swooped gracefully through the air on their brooms. Draco angrily wiped a few rogue raindrops that had escaped into his eyes, thus impairing his vision, with the sleeve of his Quidditch robes. He despised flying in conditions like these, and considering the collective IQ of his block-headed team mates, he had a feeling he would be out practising for a good few more hours through the torrents of rain.

Draco was well aware that the Gryffindor team was decidedly weaker since they had lost many of their best players, and saw it as the perfect opportunity to beat them like they'd never been beaten before. Quidditch practises for the Slytherin team were now practically daily, whatever the weather. The sky could burst open with quaffle-sized hail stones, and Draco wouldn't dare call off the session. And he certainly wasn't going to allow Blaise Zabini, the new team captain, make all the decisions.

I should be Slytherin Quidditch Captain he thought to himself, every time Zabini barked out commands to him. This moron doesn't know what he's bloody talking about his brain bitched as he angrily swerved his broom into the position Blaise was pointing to.

I'll show Potter

"Malfoy, we're releasing the snitch, stop arsing about and bloody catch it, alright?" Blaise sneered from the ground as he let go of the struggling snitch.

Malfoy clenched his teeth and gripped his broom tightly.

I'll show that thick red-haired prat who's the best

Raindrops never ceased to fall into his face, there was a little stream running down from his hair, between his eyes and down his nose, dripping off the end.

I'll show her

A glint of gold from below, through the sheets of rain.

I'll show her

He went into a sharp dive, still gripping the broom tightly.

I'll show her whose scum

His arm extended towards the snitch.

I'll give her something to regret

His fingers reached out to clasp the snitch.

She'll regret regretting kissing me

And he flew abruptly out of the dive.

She'll be back soon

And he swooped back up, the snitch struggling in his palm.

Hermione adjusted the end of her telescope, to focus in on a particularly large red fiery planet with a slightly amber tinge to it. Venus. Carefully she began to write down its position, when someone barged straight into her, knocking her lens off course.

"Be careful where you're – oh, Harry, what's wrong?" Hermione asked, surprised to see a rather nervous look Harry staring at her worriedly through two round lenses of his own.

"Could I talk to you in private?" Harry begged urgently, indicating to the door.

"We can just leave; we're in the middle of a lesson, Harry!" Hermione argued, wondering what could be so important to leave a lesson for.

"It's nearly over, seriously Hermione; Professor Sinastra won't notice we're gone!" He persuaded earnestly, a pleading look shining in his emerald green eyes.

Hermione looked down at her chart, which was almost finished, neatly filled in with her small, delicate writing. It would be easy for her to catch up and fill in the empty spaces; she was, after all, one of the best students in her Astronomy class. Finally, she relented, packed away her little silver telescope, slung her bag over her shoulder and followed Harry out of the North Tower.

"This had better be important, Harry." Hermione warned him, her heart beating rather fast as she wondered what Harry wanted to talk to her about. Her soul begged invisible forces silently that Harry wasn't confronting her about the incident that made her cheeks burn with regret.

"Well, you see, now don't get mad, but….recently Ron and I have been following Malfoy, tracking his whereabouts with the Marauders Map and-"

"Why?" Hermione's could feel her heart beating with vigour in her throat.

"It's not important." Harry evaded, not meeting Hermione's eyes.

"Well, if it's anything to do with me, I think it is!" Hermione retorted, her palms beginning to sweat as her mind replayed Malfoy's disturbingly silver eyes coming closer to hers.

"It's just that…Ron was worried he was coming on to you…so we were checking up on him…" Harry replied, hoping that he'd explained enough.

"On him? On me you mean." Hermione's eyes flashed dangerously at Harry "Do you really trust me that little, Potter?"

Harry winced at the use of his last name, but brushed it off quickly, he had something far more important to tell Hermione.

"Look, Hermione, will you please hear me out?" At this she opened her mouth to make a scathing reply, but Harry stared straight into her indignant eyes, and she simply nodded. "Ron and I began following Malfoy because we don't trust him, and it's even more important to keep tabs on him now he's Head Boy. That's it."

"Alright, well, if that's it, I'm off to bed." Hermione replied coolly, her heart still beating loudly, wild worries flooding through her mind.

"No, I'm afraid not. You see…Malfoy's up to something." Hermione flushed red "He's brewing a potion…and well…I have reason to believe it's a love potion."

"A love potion? Malfoy? You must be joking, Harry." Hermione replied, sounding sceptical, but feeling very uneasy. Something clicked painfully inside.

"I wish I was…I have reasonable evidence to believe this is what he's been brewing – I've seen some of the ingredients he's using, and I've even seen him brewing the damn thing. Hermione, please, please believe me!" Harry begged, desperate that Hermione wouldn't leave thinking she was safe.

"I…you must be wrong."

"It's ok, Hermione, it's not your fault. Just be careful and don't accept any food or drink from him. Please be careful." Harry pleaded sincerely, taking Hermione's hand briefly and squeezing it.

"Does Ron think the same as you?" Hermione asked, her voice quivering with worry.

"No, he doesn't know. And I plan on keeping it that way. Honestly, I never believed you were cheating on him but…" Harry tailed off.

"But what?"

"Nothing, forget it." Harry's mind swam with uncertainty. This was Hermione. She'd never cheat on Ron, or even consider it. But it was very apparent things weren't entirely…right. "I've got to go to Quidditch practice now – promise me you'll keep in mind what I said?"

"Yes Harry. I'll take care of myself."

Harry smiled at his friend warmly, before heaving a large sigh of relief and turning to leave, and as he did so, he didn't notice the light in Hermione's eyes slowly fade out.

Maybe kissing Malfoy wasn't as natural as she had thought.

To Draco's annoyance and confusion, Hermione had been avoiding him extremely carefully since their eventful evening, and he had begun to wonder if he'd imagined it all. Frequently he'd find himself staring angrily at her head during his lessons, willing her to turn round and say something – anything – to him. He convinced himself he didn't care that much – he just missed calling her 'mudblood' and their good old arguments. It was easier to carry on obsessing over her that way.

As a result of this recurrent distraction, Draco found his marks slipping even more than ever. It worried him less and less, as he knew he had a safety net…but the idea of cheating had began to make him feel uneasy. Now every time he entered the empty dungeon he had been using to brew his potion in, he felt sick looking at the contents of his cauldron. He'd made the potion well, but there was something about the way it bubbled and hissed that made him feel uneasy. The bubbles dancing on the surface of the potion were laughing at him, the heated misty liquid beneath was roaring with mirth at his expense. Cheating was really forcing Draco to see the truth: he was a failure.

But a secret failure.

"This year is our year, Gryffindor; I know it, which is why our Quidditch practices will be as often as is humanly possible." Harry expressed to his team mates before Quidditch practice that day. He was desperate that his new team would beat Slytherin – and considering many of his new players weren't very experienced, he had a lot of work on his hands as the new team Captain.

All his players were good in some way, but all had their difficulties. Ginny was a great aim, and certainly had a lot of flair on the pitch… but had some difficulty with intercepting the Quaffle. Dean wasn't a spectacular chaser, but he was much better than any of the other tryouts, so Harry forced himself to believe Dean would improve with training. Demelza Robins, his new chaser, definitely had no trouble shooting the ball through the hoops but had a bit of a temper problem (and, incidentally, was not allowed near the beater's bats as a result). Jack Sloper and Andrew Kirke, the two new beaters, were great at swinging the bat, regardless of what it hit, but didn't work together well, and had absolutely nothing on Fred and George Weasley.

And finally, there was Ron. Ron could make some truly amazing saves, when he wasn't under too much pressure, but Harry feared that a game against Slytherin might be a nail in Ron's coffin. The jeers from the Slytherins were often too hard for him to handle, and Harry noted with worry that Ron's fury with Malfoy might distract him during the game.

Telling Ron about the potion was out of the question, Harry decided, as he saw him make a dramatic save through a barrel roll at the far left ring. He couldn't chance Ron losing this talent, losing the game, over an affair that, apparently, only existed as a suspicion.

Nothing's gong to happen to Hermione Harry assured himself. She can look after herself, at least until this match is out of the way.

Hermione had recently been spending a lot of time in the North Tower, studying the stars through her telescope. She had never really taken much of an interest in astronomy, until recently, as she found the tower a very convenient get away, and a very effective distraction, to forget all the events that had been surrounding her recently. Ron had been so caught up with Quidditch that she was quite sure he wasn't about to come looking for her. And Malfoy…he obviously hadn't bothered to come looking for her. Hermione noted with alarm that this irritated her immensely, she was so sure he would be desperate to discuss recent…happenings with her. Or at least explain himself, but no. Nothing.

She frowned disconcertedly as she studied Venus through her lens. It had been particularly vivid in the skies recently, and she observed with wonder that, this particular evening, it could easily be seen without help. It was just there, in the clear skies, burning passionately, smiling back down at Hermione as she watched it alone.

1:00am. Time to get back to the Head Quarters Hermione decided, loading her telescope back into her bag. "Malfoy's probably in bed by now." She mused aloud.

"Wrong, Granger." A sneering voice replied silkily from behind her. Hermione froze, her heart jumping wildly in her chest.

"Malfoy?" She asked, knowing the answer before she turned around to see Draco standing nonchalantly with his hands in his pockets, the moonlight reflecting on his blonde locks, making them appear silver.

"Correct."

"How did you find me?" Hermione asked, her voice shuddering with anticipation as he took a step towards her.

"Goyle saw you coming up here after dinner." He replied simply, taking another step towards her, his expression unreadable.

"So…why are you here?"

"I needed to set something straight with you. The…incident."

Hermione bit her lip guiltily, flushing slightly pink "Oh…that."

"You see, Granger, I am a pureblood, and my situation forbids me to think of you as anything better than a mudblood. Filth." Malfoy hissed advancing further towards Hermione, who backed away angrily, he fists clenching at the word 'mudblood'. "However, I seem to have trouble keeping this in perspective recently."

"Oh my heart bleeds, look, Malfoy, you kissed me. My blood has nothing to do with this, so don't you DARE blame all of this simply on my supposed 'imperfections'." Hermione was slowly tuning crimson with rage, her whole body tensing up as she noticed that Malfoy was getting alarmingly close again.

"If I recall correctly, you kissed me back." Said Malfoy coolly, a sly smirk creeping onto his face.

"I want to know why, Malfoy."

Draco fell silent. It irked him greatly that he should have to hear this question again, after he'd replayed it so often in his mind. Why.

"Because…I was confused." This was the only answer he could come up with. Pitiful. Pit-i-ful.

"Confused? Confused with what?"

"With why a pureblood like me could possibly want to kiss a mudblood like you."

"Well, next time you're confused, I suggest you go and find Pansy Parkinson, and stay the hell away from me!" Hermione almost screamed, grabbing her bag and attempting to push past Malfoy, who, in a moment of clarity, just let her go.

Now, standing alone, Draco stood at the edge of the tower, staring down on the grounds. Inhaling the sharp cold air deeply, he tried to cleanse himself of the dirty-blooded girl he couldn't keep seem to keep his thoughts away from.

Just let her go. His mind repeated. She's nothing. She's just…Granger. Just Hermione.