Disclaimer: If you know it, I do not own it. Parts taken from Halfblood Prince by JKR.

The Halfblood Princes

"Where were you?" Harry asked when Draco joined him outside the new Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. It seemed Snape didn't want to use the old DADA classroom, so he opted for a different classroom on the third floor. He'd kept his old office, allowing the old one to remain pink and covered in cats. It was rumored you could ear all the cat painting meowing and carrying on sadly behind the locked door. Draco had never bothered to find out if there was any merit to the rumor.

"He went to see Addy," Tom said, stuffing things into his bag wearing a sour expression.

Harry eyed the dour boy. "Got some homework?"

Tom gave Harry a tired look. "Of course. Being a NEWT student isn't a ticket to easy street simply because you've got free periods. Arithmancy is serious business."

"Of course," Harry quickly agreed.

"How was she this morning? Still channelling a bed sheet?" Tom asked, turning his attention to Draco.

Before Draco had a chance to answer, the classroom door slammed opened, and Snape stepped into the corridor, his sallow face framed by two curtains of black hair free of grease.

Draco blinked.

He washed his hair? Why had he washed his hair? It was…shiny in a good way.

"Get in," Snape quietly ordered, ignoring the stares of everyone standing in line.

Tom, not finding anything amiss, moved around the others who weren't moving and walked into the classroom. Snape continued to stare at the queue, not bothering to acknowledged Tom. Draco elbowed Harry, who stumbled into Neville, whose squeak seemed to wake everyone else up and the line entered under the watchful eye of Severus Snape, the No Longer Greasy-Haired Batman.

"His hair," Hermione whispered, taking the seat next to Draco, as Harry had seated himself next to Tom.

Draco startled. While logically he knew that since they were NEWT students, they'd no longer be separated by Houses (and Tom was solid), he had stupidly assumed this meant that Harry would continue to sit next to him.

"I have not asked you to take out your books," Snape reminded the room, closing the door and moving to the front of the classroom he had forced his liking of dark spaces upon. The first time Draco hadn't really noticed the state of Snape's classroom, but this room was gloomy, the curtains all drawn and the candles that did light the room were dimmer than most candles. There were pictures adorning the walls, many showing people who appeared to be in pain, sporting grisly injuries, or strangely contorted body parts.

Hermione, upon hearing Snape, dropped her book back into her book bag, along with a few other students.

"I wish to speak to you, and I want your fullest attention."

His black eyes roved around, lingering on Harry for a second longer than anyone else.

"You have had five teachers in this subject so far, I believe. Naturally, these teachers will all have had their own methods and priorities. Given this confusion I am amazed so many of you managed to scrap by an OWL in this subject. I shall be even more surprised if all of you manage to keep up with the NEWT work, which will be more advanced."

Snape set off around the edge of the room, speaking in a lower voice making everyone crane their necks to hear.

"The Dark Arts," began Snape, "are many, varied, every changing, and eternal. Fighting them is like fighting a many headed monster, which, each time a neck is severed, sprouts a head even fiercer and cleverer than before. You are fighting that which is unfixed, mutating, indestructible. And you fail to be Captain America."

Many in the classroom exchanged befuddled looks, Draco and Hermione among them.

Tom choked on a snort.

Of course Tom knew who Captain America was.

Snape glanced at Tom, smirk on his lips before he went on, "Your defenses must therefore be as flexible and inventive as the arts you seek to undo. These pictures" —he indicated to a few as he swept by— "give a fair representation of what happens to those who suffer, for instance, the Cruciatus Curse, feel the Dementor's Kiss, or provoke the aggression of the Inferius."

"Has an Inferius been seen, then?" Parvati Patil squeaked. "Is it definite, is he using them?"

"The Dark Lord has used Inferi in the past," Snape replied, glancing at Tom, "which means you would be well-advised to assume he will use them once more. Now…"

Snape rounded and made his way back to his desk, his black robes billowing behind him. He reached the desk and turned, eyes roving the class once again, resting on Harry and Tom a second longer than anyone else.

"You are, I believe, complete novices in the use of nonverbal spells." He gave a look towards Tom, whose face Draco couldn't see, but Tom did seem to be vibrating. He raised an eyebrow before his eyes landed on Draco. "What is the advantage of a nonverbal spell, Mr Riddle?"

Hermione, whose hand had shot up before Snape had finished asking, looked saddened not to be able to answer.

Tom straightened and replied, "Your adversary will have no warning of what spell you plan to produce if you don't shout it. Granted, the moment the light comes out, they'll know, so it's only a split second advantage."

Snape appeared as if he had swallowed a lemon. "Correct in the essentials. You do gain an element of surprise, but not all wizards are able to do this, of course; it is a question of concentration and mind power, which some"— his gaze lingered maliciously upon Harry for a moment then Neville— "lack."

Neville sighed. Harry looked as if he was going to attack at any second.

"You will now divide into pairs. One partner will attempt to jinx the other without speaking. The other will attempt to repel the jinx in equal silence. Miss Granger, please partner with Mr Riddle. I believe you two will be too advanced for the others."

While Tom looked insanely pleased with this praise, Hermione pressed her lips together and looked as if she was going to explode. She nonetheless marched over to Tom without uttering a word.

Snape was right. Within a second, the pair were silently dueling one another while everyone else struggled. Draco was supposed to be jinxing Harry, but he had never exactly mastered silent hex casting. Some spells, yes, he could do silently. Vanishing, cleaning charms, a few Shield charms, but jixes and hexes? The things you had to mean to cast. Those he'd never really the hang of before all hell broke loose.

"You are trying too hard, Mr Malfoy," Snape proclaimed, appearing out of nowhere at Draco's shoulder. "Not as pathetic as Longbottom, but let me show you the proper way—"

Snape turned his wand on Harry before Draco could stop him and, of course, Harry reacted fast and instinctively. He yelled, "PROTEGO!" loud enough for Dumbledore to hear him in his office four floors above. The charm was strong enough it knocked both Snape and Draco off their feet. Draco hit the floor while Snape rammed into a desk. Draco stared at the ceiling while Snape righted himself.

"Do you remember me telling you we are practicing nonverbal spells, Potter?"

"Yes," Harry sighed.

"Yes, sir."

"There's no need to call me 'sir,' Professor."

Several people gasped while Draco slapped his hand over his face.

"Detention, Saturday night, my office. I do not take cheek from anyone, Potter…not even 'the Chosen One.'"

"Chosen for what, sir?"

Before Snape could give Harry any more detention, either Tom or Hermione sent one of their nonverbal spells at Snape, knocking him once again off his feet only this time he landed on the floor. Snape leapt to his feet, turning to face the pair only to find them still locked in their silent duel. He narrowed his black eyes, yet did nothing but turn back and try to get Harry to cast the Shield Charm silently. Draco picked himself off the floor to watch how Snape cast the hexes silently, though his dislike of Harry aided this endeavor hence he meant every jinx he hit Harry with. When it was Draco's turn once more, he tried to remember the time Harry had dragged him through the castle first year in the dead of night to duel Nott even though Draco kept telling the kid it was a trap.

That seemed to work. Draco got his jinx to hit Harry, who failed to be able to cast a silent Shield Charm. Harry glowered as his feet tap danced away without his consent.

After another break, Draco, Tom, and Hermione headed off to Ancient Runes, which was horrible. They left with a load of homework assigned. Hermione complained she was never going to finish this lot of work without a Time Turner, which made Draco chuckle and Tom look interested in finding one.

After lunch, Tom, Hermione, and Draco joined Neville and Harry in completing Snape's homework. It was as dreadful as Draco remembered. It was why he had given up and not done it. Or any of the homework. But, this time, he didn't have the excuse he was trying to kill Dumbledore, so he had to do it. Draco felt as if his brain was going to ooze out of his ears by the time they finished, shortly before they all had to head down to the dungeon classroom for Potions.

"Is it going to be weird to be in there without Snape?" Harry asked as they neared the corridor.

"It'll be brighter," both Tom and Draco offered in unison.

There were only a dozen people progressing to NEWT level for Potions. Blaise Zabini, Ronald Weasley, one of the two girls who hung around with them, plus Nott had made it through from Slytherin. Three Ravenclaws had made it and one Hufflepuff, Ernie Macmillian.

"Harry," Ernie greeted pompously, holding his hand out as Harry approached, "didn't get a chance to speak in Defense this morning. Good lesson, I thought, but Shield Charms are old hat, of course, for us old MC lags…and how are you, Draco? Hermione?"

"Fine," Draco replied.

"Good."

"And you are?" Ernie curiously asked, looking at Tom.

Tom didn't answer, as the door slammed open and a huge belly came out followed by the rest of the Slughorn. He beamed a smile at them till his eyes fell on Tom, and the smile slid off his face and he looked as if he'd seen a ghost.

"I thought that a dirty, mean joke," Slughorn faintly said, staring at Tom.

"I'm afraid not, sir. I was named after my father," Tom proclaimed, much to the confusion of everyone in the hallway. "TR DeVinette."

"Oh," Slughorn said. "But you…"

"Don't use DeVinette."

The others in the hallway began to whisper amongst themselves.

"Your father is called Tom Riddle?"

"Yes. His mother thought it funny," Tom lied flawlessly. While Draco thought he'd throw in a charming smile here, he remained stone faced and unamused. "I however, don't need two riddles in my name, thank you very much. One is fine."

Slughorn made a series of complicated expressions before he spotted Harry and shouted, "Harry, m'boy! Blaise! How you do! How you do!" and grabbed both boys and pushed them into the classroom. Tom rolled his eyes and followed, along with everyone else. The Ravenclaws were eyeing Tom with a newfound interest.

Draco hooked his arm through Hermione's and entered. He towed her over to the cauldron where the Love Potion was bubbling away and was shortly joined by Tom and Harry. Harry stared at the potion with a look of alarm, while Tom turned his back to it. Draco knew what the potion would smell like to him, so he ignored it. He was simply curious what Hermione might say if she got over excited as she tended to do when answering questions.

"Now then, now then, now then," Slughorn said, looking through the various vapors at the students. "Scales out, everyone, and potions kits, and don't forget your copies of Advanced Potion-Making."

There was noise as everyone got out their kits and scales. Once the movement settled down, Slughorn rocked on his heels, inflating his already bulging chest so that the bottoms on his waistcoat threaten to fly off, "I've prepared a few potions for you to have a look at, just out of interest, you know. These are the kind of thing you ought to be able to make after completing your NEWTs. You ought to have heard of 'em, even if you haven't made 'em yet. Anyone tell me what this one is?"

He indicated to the cauldron nearest the Slytherin table. Harry raised himself out of his seat to see, frowning at the sight. Hermione's hand flew into the air, almost knocking Draco over. Tom glanced at Hermione, then back at Slughorn. Slughorn pointed to Hermione after a quick peek to see what Tom was doing.

The man did not buy Tom's story of his origins. Seeing as Slughorn was a former professor, he might have been at Hogwarts when the original Tom Riddle breezed on through.

"That's Veritaserum, a colorless, odorless potion that forces the drinker to tell the truth," Hermione recited.

"Very good, very good," Slughorn happily crowed. "Now, this on here is pretty well known. Featured in a few Ministry leaflets lately too. Who can—"

Hermione's hand flew into the air, this time hitting Draco in the ear.

"It's Polyjuice Potion, sir," she answered. "Turns the person into another person by the addition of hair."

Draco turned to look at Nott, who sat up straighter. The table the Polyjuice was on was filled with curious Ravenclaws and Draco could see the cogs in Nott's head working on how to get some.

"Excellent, excellent! Now, this one here, yes, my dear?" Slughorn fondly asked, as Hermione's hand was still in the air.

"It's Amorentia!"

"It is indeed. It seems almost foolish to ask, but I assume you know what it does?"

He looked almost torn, like he wanted to be impressed, yet was totally bemused as well.

"It's the most powerful love potion in the world," Hermione breathed, staring at the potion.

Tom suddenly looked at it and blinked.

"Quite right! You recognized it, I suppose, by its distinctive mother-of-pearl sheen?"

Tom appeared as if he was going to be sick.

"Yes. And the steam rising in characteristic spirals," Hermione excited recited, "and it's supposed to smell differently to each of us, according to what attract us, and I can smell evergreens and new parchment and—"

Hermione abruptly stopped talking and turned pink.

"Where as I smell pine trees, cake, and dust bunnies," Tom announced.

"Dust bunnies?" Slughorn faintly asked.

Tom shrugged.

Harry sniffed himself for some reason, frowning deeply.

"My dear," Slughorn directed his attention back to Hermione, "may I ask your name?"

"Hermione Granger, sir."

"Granger? Granger? Can you possibly be related to Hector Dagworth-Granger, who founded the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers?"

"No, I don't think so, sir. I'm Muggleborn."

Draco glanced over at the Slytherin table, where Nott sat not sniggering or reacting. If Draco didn't know better, he'd think Nott was a life sized doll, but he was clearly breathing and blinking occasionally.

"Oho! 'One of my best friends if Muggleborn, and she's the best in our year!' I'm assuming this is the very friend whom you spoke, Harry?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, well, take twenty well-earned points for Ravenclaw, Miss Granger," Slughorn genially said, patting his belly.

Hermione turned to Harry with a radiant expression and whispered, "Did you really tell him I'm the best in the year?"

"You are," Harry whispered back.

Hermione beamed at Harry and turned to face forward, where Slughhorn was heading for his desk.

"Amortentia doesn't really create love, of course. It is impossible to imitate love. No, this will simply cause a powerful infatuation or obsession. It is probably the most dangerous and powerful potion in this room—oh, yes," he said, looking over at Weasley who was looking skeptical. "When you have seen as much life as I have, you will not underestimate the power of obsessive love."

Tom looked as if he was going to be ill.

"And now, it is time for us to start work."

"Sir, you haven't told us what's in this one," Macmillian called out, pointing at the small black cauldron standing on Slughorn's desk. Draco watched the potion splash happily, looking like leaping goldfish on the surface.

"Oho!" Slughorn cried out happily, ever the showman. "Yes. That. Well, that one, ladies and gentlemen, is the most curious little potion called Felix Felicis. I take it," he turned to Hermione, "that you know what Felix Felicis does, Miss Granger."

"Yes, I do. It's liquid luck. It makes you lucky."

The whole class sat up a little straighter, other than Tom who was already straight. Everyone looked interested, even Nott.

"Quite right, take another ten points for Ravenclaw. Yes, it's a funny little potion, Felix Felicis," Slughorn chuckled, looking fondly at the little pot of gold liquid. "Desperately tricky to make," —very true. Draco had tried and failed— "and disastrous to get wrong." — and it was. Draco was bald for a week and blind out of one eye for a month till he could get one of the Slytherin seventh years to put him right— "However, if brewed correctly, as this has been, you will find that all your endeavors tend to succeed…at least until the effects wear off."

"Why don't people drink it all the time, sir?" asked a Ravenclaw.

"Because taken in excess, it causes giddiness, recklessness, and dangerous overconfidence," Slughorn gravely replied. "Too much of a good thing, you know…highly toxic in large qualities. But, taken sparingly and very occasionally…"

"Have you ever taken it, sir?" asked the other Ravenclaw, who Draco was sure a member of Ginny's fan club last year.

"Twice in my life," Slughorn said. "Once when I was twenty-four, once when I was fifty-seven. Two tablespoons taken with breakfast. Two perfect days."

He went dreamy before shaking his head to clear away the memories.

"And that, is what I shall be offering as a prize in this lesson."

Nott sat up even straighter, looking eager to start the lesson.

Draco bit back a groan, as the potion was hard. So hard, even Granger hadn't gotten it…but, Potter had.

Why had Potter? He wasn't good at Potions. How he had scrapped the acceptable—

He hadn't. Potter hadn't planned on taking the course. The Weasel and Potter had to borrow stuff that first lesson.

Draco wildly looked around for the spare books.

"Did you hear?" Hermione whispered, pulling on Draco's sleeve. "He's giving us one bottle of Felix Felicis, good enough for twelve hours of luck!"

"Yes, yes, yes," Draco absently muttered, eyes scanning till he found the bookshelf on the other side of the classroom. It looked as if it'd been forgotten about, between the dust and sagging shelves. Draco glanced around, then pushed his book on the floor and stomped on Tom's foot. Tom shouted, elbowing Harry in the head on his way to the floor after tripping over his own feet. The elbow sent Harry flying head first into the potion on their table. Hermione screamed, leaping away before the love potion slopped over the side and hit her. During all this, Draco set his book on fire.

"What is going on?" Slughorn asked, hurrying over to clean up the mess.

Harry raised his head up out of the potion, looking rather dazed. Hermione stared in horror at all their belongings, now drenched in love potion. Tom picked himself up and eyed at Harry in trepidation.

"Miss Granger, you'll want to clean up. Do you know a cleaning charm?"

"Professor, my book is all burnt. Might I get a new one?"

"Oh, yes. Yes, Mr Mallory," Slughorn said, flapping his hand and not paying a bit of attention. "Now, Harry, son…"

Hermione waved her wand and cleaned the table up the best she could. Draco hurried over the bookshelf with the overload of books. While the class was distracted by Slughorn feeding Harry the antidote to the love potion, Draco searched for a book that stood out from the other beat up, stained, forgotten books. He glanced over his shoulder to find Harry now looking as if he was going to be sick and unable to look at anyone, even though he'd not had time to make a fool of himself like most people who ingested Amortentia did. The class had been working for a solid five minutes before Draco finally found a book that looked promising. The book was old, older than the other books. It had had multiple owners, but one had taken to writing all over in the book. Just glancing at the book quickly, Draco could tell the owner knew what he or she was doing. He hurried back to the table with the tattered book. As he sat down, Hermione (who smelled absurdly like violets and sandalwood) gave him a nasty look.

He must have gotten some of the Amortentia on his bare skin. Blast. Well, he could control himself till it wore off. Skin contact wasn't as bad as if one ingested it.

"Was that called for?" Hermione hissed.

"Yes. Remembered something," Draco whispered.

The room was quiet while everyone was working hard to work the assigned potion. Blueish steam began to fill the room as Draco turned to page ten and looked over what he'd need. He had most of what he needed in his own kit, so he didn't have to waste time going through the student stores.

"You're never going to finish," Hermione hissed.

"Brilliant," Draco whispered.

"What?" Hermione asked, pausing in her stirring. She was already at the ideal halfway stage the book spoke of, as her potion was "smooth, black currant-colored liquid."

Draco began chopping roots.

"How can you even read the directions?" Hermione demanded, peering over his shoulder. "Isn't there a book that's not scribbled all over."

Draco turned back to the book and stared at the writing, the first deviation from the actual directions.

"Brilliant, utterly brilliant," Draco muttered, hurrying to crush his sopophorus bean with the side of his sliver knife.

"How did you…" Hermione trailed off, looking at the book closer. "You're following the scribbling. Why?"

"Potter did," Draco said. "He wasn't originally going to take Potions because Snape only takes people who get 'Outstandings.' He made perfect potions all year till after—"

Draco abruptly stopped talking. He blinked a few times.

"Till what?" Tom demanded.

"He started dating Ginny Weasley," Draco lied, not really wanting to say what actually likely had happened. While he wasn't really all there after their failed duel in the bathroom, Snape had been furious with how Potter had known that spell. Draco remembered that. It was after that, Potter had started to fail at Potions, performing as his track record would indicate.

Harry choked, sputtering and knocking over a bottle of something that smelled foul and Tom sucked in a sharp breath through his nose.

"Smash the bean with a knife," Draco said, noticing Harry wasn't as far as Hermione in his potion.

Harry instantly did it as instructed as soon as he'd cleaned up the smelly liquid, while Tom rolled his eyes.

"But the directions—" Hermione started.

"Are wrong," both Tom and Draco said.

Tom scowled.

Seeing as Tom was farther along than Hermione, he took the book and flipped through it, scowling darkly.

"Why would he leave this behind?" Tom demanded.

"Who?" Harry asked, craning his neck to see what the book suggested next.

"Give me that," Draco said, snatching the book from Tom.

Draco added the bean, then began the stirring, adding the clockwise with after every seventh counterclockwise stir.

Tom was doing the same thing, hissing the directions out of the side of his mouth to Harry. Hermione looked unsure, but followed along, gasping when it worked.

All around the room, other tables were all having trouble. No one else was anywhere near as close as their table at making perfect potions. Harry looked elated to have a potion go so easily for him, while Hermione looked unsure about not following the directions in the textbook.

"And time's up!" Slughorn called out. "Stop stirring, please."

Slughorn moved around the tables.

"He's going to wonder why we all were so close," Harry pointed out.

Draco glanced around. He grabbed up some random ingredients and threw them into his and Tom's cauldrons. Tom appeared as if he was about to throttle Draco until his cauldron blew up in his face, covering him in failed potion.

Tragically, it did nothing to his pretty face.

"Draco!" Hermione hissed as Slughorn turned, frowning at Tom.

"What happened now?"

"Must have over stirred," Tom lied, using his robe sleeve to dry his face off. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, sir."

Draco's potion was bright pink.

"Makes yours a little darker," Draco whispered to Hermione. "Stir backwards. His back is turned."

Hermione bit her lip, but did as he asked, making hers a shade darker than it ought to be, but a good effort. She'd put her spoon away just in time. Slughorn was heading their way.

"Fine effort, Mr Riddle," Slughorn lied, looking thrilled Tom had messed up so bad. "Don't add so much root next time. Oh, and Mr Mallory, no rosemarie. Why did you even add that? Oh, Miss Granger, good effort! Good effort. The closest one I've seen so far. Maybe one less counterclockwise stir next time. Oh, Harry, m'boy! Good lord, it's clear you've inherited your mother's talent! She was a drab hand at Poitons, Lily was. A clear winner! Here you are, then, here you are— one bottle of Felix Felicis, as promised, and use it well."

Harry took the tiny bottle and slipped it into his inner robe pocket, while looking delighted and generally bewildered. Draco glanced over at Nott, who was once again appeared as if he were simply a life-sized doll of Theodore Nott.

After class got out, Hermione snatched the book from Draco and began to furiously paw through it. Harry tried looking over her shoulder, but she kept turning to keep him from looking. He let out a huff.

"We can always do a handwriting spell to figure it out," Harry suggested. "You know, if you're so worried about whose book that was."

"No need," Tom said, folding his arms across is potion soaked chest. "That book belonged to Severus Snape."

Hermione stopped flipping pages and turned to Tom, narrowing her eye. "How do you know?"

Tom snorted. "Honestly. He's been grading your papers for the past six years. Can you not recognize his handwriting? It's not changed all that much from when he was the owner of that book."

Draco's skin crawled. Leaning against the cold castle wall, he slid to the floor.

Snape had invented that spell? That spell that cut into his skin, made him bleed, and almost die on the floor of the girl's loo? A spell Potter had gotten out of that book, the textbook in Hermione's hands?

"I see it," Hermione whispered, once again reading the book. "There's someone else's handwriting."

Tom peered over Hermione's shoulder, nodding. "That would be Addy's. She was his partner till the spring of sixth year. Slughorn always assigns the same potion as his opener for NEWTs. They would have worked on this together. The counterclockwise stirs were her suggestions, see."

"But isn't she dismal at Potions?" Draco faintly asked, looking up at Tom's looming figure.

"Yes. But, she is the daughter of a Potion Mistress. Some of the knowledge sunk in," Tom said. "Just wasn't able to…"

Tom flapped his hand around.

"Severus Snape," Hermione breathed. "The Half-Blood Prince?"

"Oh," Tom said, his eyes going wide. "That is who his mother was."

"Who?" Hermione asked.

"The Prince girl. She was a few years behind me. I heard she'd run off with a Muggle," Tom said, then added, "From Regulus. When they were trying to figure out if there were any living Princes left for Voldemort to try to take out. One of the Princes…was a horcrux death. Regulus and his father believed it was due to the daughter marrying a Muggle, even though they disowned her."

Hermione made a face of distaste.

"It would make sense he'd want to make public that side of his bloodline with his being in Slytherin," Harry quietly said.

"Oh yes," Tom agreed. "Being a half-blood Prince would be better than being just a half-blood. The Princes were one of the old pureblood families. Not as old as the Blacks, but almost."

"Older than the Malfoys," Draco added.

"Why are you on the floor?" Harry asked.

"Hush," Hermione chided, putting a hand on Draco's shoulder. "Well, it's your book now, as you burnt yours. And you ought to apologize to Harry for soaking him in Amortentia."

She handed him the book. Draco carefully took it. He'd have to find that spell and black it out so no one could find it. The only person he'd ever witness cast it was Potter in times of distress, so clearly Snape hadn't shared it with anyone else.

"Sorry, Harry, but I had to get the book," he apologized.

"It's fine. Uh, it wasn't that bad till Slughorn gave me the antidote. I mean, I didn't do or say anything for the two minutes I was under," Harry said, rubbing the back of his neck and not looking at Tom. Tom was also looking anywhere but at Harry.

Draco clutched the book to his chest and slowly got to his feet. Harry began pondering out loud what he ought to do with his lucky potion. Tom had a few suggestions he was more than willing to share that had to do with fighting Voldemort. Hermione glanced at Draco once, before grabbing his hand and squeezing hard.

Only she failed to let go as they began to walk towards Gryffindor Tower.

Draco's heart soared and stuttered in his chest, while his nose was totally full of violets, sandalwood, and old books.

He was sure he was still under the influence of the Amortentia that had slashed on his hand.