"Have you heard? Oh, my goodness. It's just too -" Ginny came blustering into the seventh-year girls' dormitory and put her hands on her ginger hair. Hermione scowled and whirled around, already in her pyjamas as she asked,

"What's happened?"

"It's Slughorn!" Ginny exclaimed. "I just - I was -"

"Slow down." Hermione rushed over to Ginny and put her hands on the girl's elbows. She stared Ginny in the eye as Sophie Roper and the other girls waited curiously behind her. "What's happened, Ginny?"

"I was finishing my Prefect rounds," Ginny said, "and I saw them rushing Professor Slughorn into the Hospital Wing on a stretcher. They wouldn't let me through. They were saying quietly that they hoped he made it."

Ginny looked terribly distressed, and Hermione felt her own eyes go very wide as she dashed back over to her wardrobe. She stripped off her pyjamas and began dressing in her uniform again.

"What are you doing?" Sophie asked. Hermione did up her tie and mumbled,

"I'm Head Girl. They'll have to tell me something. I'll go investigate. Be back soon."

She grabbed her wand and hustled out of the dormitory, going down the stairs into the Gryffindor Common Room and brushing past two second-years who were talking at a table.

"Off to bed," Hermione snapped at them as she passed. They groaned but started packing up their bags. Hermione had no time to police them. She went out through the Fat Lady's portrait hole and descended Gryffindor Tower. By the time she made her way all the way to the Hospital Wing, she was completely out of breath and her stomach ached from exertion.

Lucius Malfoy was standing with several other teachers outside the Hospital Wing, and when they heard Hermione approaching, they all turned to look at her. Lucius' lips were planted into a thin line, and he said tightly,

"Miss Granger."

"What's happened to Professor Slughorn?" Hermione asked without pretense. Professor Sprout insisted,

"My dear, we know little more than you do, I'm afraid. All we know is that his cauldron blew up whilst he was brewing something this evening."

Hermione's gaze landed on Lucius, but he looked away. They both knew what had happened. Slughorn had had an accident brewing the antidote for the Draught of Magnes. Hermione seethed through clenched teeth and asked,

"Will he be all right?"

"He's far from all right," Professor Sinistra said, and Hagrid chimed in,

"Burned his whole front side of himself, he did. From head to toe, scalded himself. Madam Pomfrey's attending to the burns, and they're gonna get somebody from St Mungo's here to transfer him."

"My goodness." Hermione clapped a hand to her mouth, and then Professor Sprout said,

"This is not to be taken lightly. It is not clear at this moment whether or not Professor Slughorn will… will…"

Live. Hermione shut her eyes and felt them sear hot.

"Surely the Healers will make him well again," she said quietly, but there was no response. When she opened her eyes, the professors were all eyeing one another and then her. Lucius Malfoy finally said,

"It is not clear at the present time whether or not Horace will emerge from this. His injuries are grave."

"Let us all pour our souls into thoughts for him," said Professor Sinistra. "This is a dark moment for Hogwarts."

Hermione thought there had been many dark moments for Hogwarts in the years she'd been studying there. She sighed and asked Lucius,

"Please, Professor Malfoy, will you update me tomorrow in lessons?"

"I expect the Headmistress will make an announcement at breakfast," said Professor Sprout. She stared between Lucius and Hermione curiously, as though perplexed by the somewhat amiable nature between them. Hermione nodded and turned to go back to her dormitory, feeling like she was going to be sick.

"Horace Slughorn is dead."

Lucius' jaw dropped as Minerva McGonagall stared at him across her desk in her office. It was four o'clock in the morning; the Healers had been working on Slughorn for many hours at this point. Lucius cleared his throat and asked,

"When?"

"A half hour ago, he passed," McGonagall said, tearing up. She shook her head and said, "It isn't clear what he was brewing. It burned into a dark slime. If we had Severus here, or Albus, I'm sure they could make heads and tails of it. Horace was adding Erumpent Horn to the potion when it exploded; we found the half-ground horn on the floor beside his grater."

Lucius huffed a breath and asked carefully, "Did he die with much suffering?"

"He was in… quite a bit of pain," McGonagall whispered. She touched at her lips, her cheeks going red as she began to cry. "Oh, Horace. You bleeding fool, blowing up a potion."

"It could have happened to anyone," Lucius said, "if it could happen to a seasoned Potions Master like Horace Slughorn."

"This will be immensely traumatising for the students. I don't think I need to explain why classes will be cancelled for the week," McGonagall said. Lucius shook his head. McGonagall informed him, "There will be logistics to emerge from this. Students will need Potions lessons after next week, but our teacher has been tragically killed. We will need a replacement instructor."

"Yes. It seems as though you do need someone to take Horace's place, when the time is right," Lucius said, and McGonagall gave him a weighty look.

"Your son was always a superb Potions student. Even last year, when the school was under… terrible management… Draco created reliable potion after reliable potion."

"You're suggesting that I bring my son here to teach Potions?" Lucius felt surprise rock him and raised his brows. "He's rather busy wooing Astoria Greengrass."

"I'm certain Draco would accept the position on a short-term basis, like you accepted yours," McGonagall said. She wasn't crying anymore. Lucius pinched his lips and said,

"I am only here because Kingsley Shacklebolt insisted I come."

"I think if I wrote to Kingsley and suggested that Draco would make a fine Potions instructor, he might insist again," McGonagall said smoothly. Lucius shook his head wildly.

"No. No, I'm afraid not. You'll have to find someone else. I will not allow my son to be forced to teach classrooms full of students who despise him."

"You speak from personal experience," McGonagall said, tipping her head.

"I do," Lucius nodded, "and I won't drag Draco into all that. I won't let it happen to him."

"Very well," McGonagall scoffed. "We'll find someone else, then. But first, there are matters to attend to as regards Horace. He'll need a proper funeral, and though that will be handled by his family, we'll need to hold a memorial service for him here at the school. I expect you to be sufficiently aggrieved, Mr Malfoy."

"Why would I not be?" Lucius shrugged and coughed an annoyed sound. "I do not appreciate the accusation that I am… insufficiently aggrieved… by the death of a fellow teacher, a fellow Slytherin, and a man who has been respected in the wizarding community for many decades. Headmistress, might I advise some Draught of Magnes between you and I? The sense of hatred I feel radiating from you to me is rather… well. It's a bit much."

"I have not forgotten the things you did," McGonagall trilled, "the people you hurt. What do you know about the Draught of Magnes, anyway?"

Lucius blinked slowly and sighed. "I know," he said, "that Horace Slughorn assigned it to his seventh-years. I know he gave vials to students earning perfect marks. And I strongly suspect that he died brewing the antidote to the potion."

"Antidote." McGonagall looked shocked. "Why would Horace be brewing an antidote to Draught of Magnes?"

"Because," Lucius murmured carefully, brushing his thumb over his walking stick and gulping, "A vial of Draught of Magnes was spilled on a corridor floor, and two people who once despised one another now find themselves… surprisingly cordial."

McGonagall stared. "You and Miss Granger?"

"Horace agreed to brew the antidote," Lucius said, "though it would take six months."

"Well, I think we can all agree now that an antidote is entirely out of the question!" exclaimed McGonagall. She looked enraged. "Obviously, it is much too dangerous to brew, and, anyway, why would you want to continue hating someone?"

"Believe it or not, Headmistress, I stopped wanting the antidote a while ago," Lucius said. "I was actually on the verge of telling Horace to stop brewing it, that it wasn't needed. I… I admit that my feelings towards Muggle-borns and even Muggles have shifted a great deal since being exposed to the potion, and I am not entirely anxious to reverse the effects."

McGonagall's eyes were so wide they looked like they'd pop straight out of her skull. She shook her head in disbelief and asked,

"Miss Granger? What does she think about all of this?"

"In typical fashion for Miss Granger," said Lucius, "she is entirely principled about the whole thing. She believes that peace potions, much like love potions, are immoral because they strip people of the ability to make decisions entirely of their own volition. She believes that the Draught of Magnes is masking true emotion, and she dislikes the sensation of being tricked."

"Well. If she truly wants to reverse the potion, I suppose she is entitled to its antidote," said McGonagall in a resigned voice. She sat in her chair and folded her hands on her desk. "But she won't be getting it from Horace Slughorn. What an accident. To be brewing the antidote to the very potion the girls came to me to complain about…"

"Girls?" Lucius was confused. McGonagall pursed her lips and admitted,

"Ginny Weasley and Hermione Granger came to me to report that Horace Slughorn had assigned Draught of Magnes. They were also concerned about having burnt a potion in a pewter cauldron when copper was needed. Anyway… I told them the Draught of Magnes was not anything to be bothered about. Obviously, I was wrong. I didn't listen to their concerns properly, and I did not realize that Miss Granger had already been exposed."

"For the price of eighty Galleons, which I am more than willing to pay myself," Lucius began, "there can be had a vial of the antidote. Young's Potioneers in Wales are willing to provide it. It will take six months, of course. We can only hope they'll be more careful… erm… lucky… than Horace was."

"You'll write to them, then?" McGonagall asked. "To Young's Potioneers to request the antidote?"

"I'll send an owl in ten minutes' time," Lucius said. McGonagall nodded.

"In the meantime, try to remember, Mr Malfoy, that not despising Muggle-borns is actually the correct way to feel. My hope for you, sir, is that after you take the antidote to the Draught of Magnes, you may have learnt something permanent."

"As I said, Headmistress, I would gladly go without the antidote," Lucius reminded her. "I'll only take it because Hermione… Miss Granger… feels mentally trapped by it. I don't want her to be uncomfortable, so…"

"My goodness," McGonagall nodded. "It really has that sort of effect, then. Right. Well, I shall see you in a few hours, when I shall need to announce Horace's death to the school. Go get what rest you can. But first, send away for that antidote."

"Headmistress." Lucius bowed his head and turned, stalking out of McGonagall's office.

Lucius stared at the portrait of his family on his desk and considered that Horace Slughorn was now underground. They'd held the memorial for him today, a day with cancelled classes, and many words had been spoken about what a great man, a great teacher, and a great Potioneer Horace Slughorn was. Lucius couldn't help but feel partially responsible for Horace's death, even if it was likely that some carelessness had factored into the man's demise. The antidote for Draught of Magnes was incredibly difficult to brew, but Slughorn was meant to be a master of Potions. He'd made some mistake, and he'd paid the ultimate price.

Wagner Schmidt, a German wizard who had attended Durmstrang and had been one of Grindelwald's fiercest opponents decades earlier, had been brought in as the new Potions Master. He was wizened and stooped, his accent thick. But he had already rearranged the Potions classroom to neaten and declutter it in preparation for the lessons he was more than willing to teach the students of Hogwarts. He would be going by Herr Schmidt to the students, he'd told Lucius at dinner the night before. He was German, he'd joked, and there was nothing he could do about that.

Lucius had sent an owl to Young's Potioneers in Wales along with a forty Galleon deposit for the antidote. He'd received a letter back stating that they would begin work immediately. It would still take six months for the antidote to brew, but at least the process had begun. In the meantime, Lucius had received three letters from Narcissa, and he'd only opened one. He'd considered Vanishing all of them, but one had looked like it had been addressed with a shaking hand. His name had been practically scribbled onto the envelope, and so he'd opened it. It had been a rambling letter clearly written by someone drunk or exhausted.. Narcissa missed Lucius and wanted him to see reason about Muggle-borns. He'd been corrupted by forces at Hogwarts, Narcissa had declared, and he needed to resign and come home to Malfoy Manor. Lucius had written back that he would see Narcissa and Draco at Christmas and instructed her not to write again.

He jolted away from the photograph on his desk as knocking sounded on his office door. Curious, Lucius stood from his chair and walked around the desk, his boots padding on the rug Hermione had Conjured for him. He opened the office door and saw her - her - standing there before him, looking sorrowful.

"We killed him," she said simply. Lucius sighed and beckoned for Hermione to come into the office.

"He is the one who assigned the Draught of Magnes to you," Lucius pointed out. "He is the one who was responsible for an antidote once the potion was used. And he obviously made some sort of terrible mistake. Neither you nor I killed him, Hermione. He died. It was an accident. He died brewing the fix to his own error. So many mistakes, Hermione, that Horace Slughorn made."

"Still," she whispered, "I feel responsible."

"I… yes, I understand." Lucius huffed a breath and put his hands on either side of Hermione's face. For a long moment, he just stood there holding her, cradling her jaws in his palms as he realised it had been days now since they'd touched. He remembered the way things had almost gone out of control in here before, and he shook his head a little. He still wanted her, so very badly. Why shouldn't he have her, he wondered? He was a married wizard, but Narcissa was acting terribly right now, and Lucius couldn't help the way his body craved Hermione's. He wasn't even certain he'd be able to control himself, even if he'd wanted to. He bent and kissed her lips, softly, once and then again. Hermione breathed slowly, steadily, and whispered onto his lips,

"It doesn't feel like enough, does it? Kissing."
"No." Lucius licked a little at her bottom lip and agreed, "It doesn't feel like enough."

"I'm… a virgin, though," Hermione admitted. Lucius froze. He pulled back and squeezed at Hermione's cheeks just a little.

"I wasn't suggesting that," Lucius said. Hermione's lips formed a little O and her cheeks flushed hot beneath Lucius' hands.

"I'm sorry; I… I thought you wanted me," Hermione said, and Lucius scoffed.

"I do, you silly girl. But we mustn't do that. I'm your teacher. You are my student. And we were enemies. And I am married."

"You put that one last," Hermione noted. She stared up at Lucius and said sadly, "I've come between a husband and wife. And Slughorn's dead because of the antidote. Everything is my fault."

"No. No, Hermione." Lucius sank his fingers into her hair and kissed her hard. She didn't kiss back, though, and Lucius felt desperate for a moment. He tried kissing her again, but Hermione pulled back a little and murmured,

"You need to make things right with Mrs Malfoy."

"How? By convincing her that Muggle-borns are worthy of a place in society? She doesn't believe it, Hermione."

"Neither do you," Hermione whispered. Lucius yanked himself back a step and pronounced,

"I do believe it. I believe that you're the most qualified witch of your age. You could be the Minister for Magic someday, Hermione Granger, with that mind of yours. And you're Muggle-born."

Hermione shut her eyes tightly and said in a helpless voice, "You didn't believe any of that until you were dosed with a potion to make you stop hating me."

"I do not want to hate you," Lucius snarled. "I want… I want…"

"What?" Hermione tossed her hands up and looked like she was going to cry. "What do you want, Lucius?"

"I want you," he said, so quietly he almost couldn't hear himself. He breathed the words again, just a little more loudly this time. "I want you, Hermione Granger."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked. "You're my teacher, and we were enemies, and you're a married man."

"Somehow, when I really stop to think about it," Lucius said, "none of that matters. Not with you."

"We're poisoned. You said it yourself," Hermione told him. "We've been poisoned."

"Has someone who's used Felix Felicis been poisoned?" Lucius demanded. "Someone who's used Invigoration Draught to wake up after a night of restless sleep, have they been poisoned? No. I was wrong to use that word. Draught of Magnes is not a poison, Hermione. It is a gift."

"You don't sound like the Lucius Malfoy who let me get tortured in his own home," Hermione said through tears. She shrugged and said, "You sound like… it's so complicated, because I want you, too."

He walked up to her and wrapped one arm around her, putting it to the small of her back. He bent and kissed her forehead, and he muttered,

"Come to my quarters after you've finished your rounds tonight. Tell your friends you're sneaking off to the library for some late-night reading, and come to my quarters. It's here, next to Classroom 3C, the next door over."

"I'll be seen," Hermione hissed furtively. "Ginny will know something's up."

"Just come," Lucius pleaded. "I am tired of all the games."

Hermione gnawed her lip but finally said, "All right. I'll come. After rounds."

"I'll be waiting," Lucius said softly, and he bent to kiss her lips gently again. She pulled back and went to the door, and as she did, Lucius told her again, "It isn't your fault, Hermione. None of it is your fault."

She smiled weakly at him and opened the door, pulling it shut behind her and disappearing.

Notes: Oh, no! Slughorn is dead! There's tension about the antidote! McGonagall knows! And, of course, we very obviously have an interesting chapter coming up here. ;) Hope a few of you are excited about what's to come.

Thank you for reading and especially for reviewing.