Part X

Tuesday. Potions. Tuesday meant potions, a whole double period spent with Malfoy. Hermione didn't know how to feel about this. He had seemed to warm to her, no more horrible name calling.

The same thoughts ran through Draco's mind as he rose that morning. The events that took place after the last Quidditch game still confunded him, the anger he felt toward Potter for hurting his Hermione -steady on there, Draco. She isn't yours to claim yet- still had questions filling his very person. ''Bloody women.'' he said under his breath.

Walking to the common room in his immaculate school robes, he heard a commotion in the seventh year girls' dorms. Two high pitched screams emitted from behind the door follows by a series of giggles and growls. Deciding to take action he pulled the door open he found that Cassie and Adrian were toppled over what seemed to be Lyra's bed having a jolly snogging session. Meanwhile, Lyra was sitting on Blaise's lap being tickled mercilessly by the dark Italian boy who was trying to stop her insistent squirming.

''Already causing trouble then, Ly?'' he asked as soon as his cousin noticed him. She only blushed prettily in response.

''He started it.'' she declared petulantly as she huffed, playfully pouting. At this point, the snogging couple had ceased their previous activities in exchange for sighting their appearance.

''Real mature, Lyra.'' Cassie said as Adrian pinched her behind playfully, causing her to squeak in surprise. ''Let's go, wouldn't want to scar Draco any further or make Snape angry.

''Too right!'' Draco exclaimed as the group made their way to potions. ''And it would do you good, Pucey, not to grope my cousin while I'm in the same room. Zabini, same goes for you.''

the girls glared at him and he turned his attention to them, ''Don't get me started on you two.'' he sighed ''I think a quick letter to Uncle Rabastan would set you two straight.'' At that suggestion the girls ended their glaring and smiled sweetly up at Draco.

8before he could catch them out on their innocent act, they had reached the Potions classroom. The girls took a seat and waited until the boys had gathered the last of the ingredients when they saw Hermione walk in; she was not accompanied with her usual Gryffindor bodyguards. She had red eyes and her usual posture was gone, only to be replaced with a resigned sort of slouch.

Minutes later, when the Slytherin boys sat next to their partners and waited for class to begin, the two Gryffindor boys entered with girls drawing over their arms. Draco felt Hermione stiffen when Ginny leant over and placed a kiss on Harry's cheek. At that moment, Snape entered as idly drawled, ''Ms Weasley, you'd do well to remember that this is my classroom. I won't allow public displays of affection.'' Ginny glared and Hermione let slip a small smile, thanking that Snape was surly. ''As it stands, I had the first year dunderheads this morning. Their cauldrons need cleaning, for the rest of the week.''

Harry went to protest, only earning him detention for the week; with McGonagall. Sometime during the lesson, the surly professor began to hand back the essays. Speaking above the noise made by the students he announced, ''There, for obvious reasons, won't be any testing of this specific potion.''

''However, I have graded your parchments.'' he continues, as the looks of fear passed over his students' faces. ''Not only, did most of you fail to gain a pass grade but only three of you were competent enough to earn an 'O'. Those students shall receive the next two parchments, however they will not be graded; topics can be chosen at your own fancy. Those of you who received 'A' or an 'Exceeds Expectations' will have one parchment count to your marks. And anything short of those marks, two parchments of which topics I will be allocating.'' pausing only for effect, he began once more. ''Once you have finished the potion: bottle it, pour two vials, name the vials and hand them in for marking.''

Parchments redistributed themselves as groans emitted from certain students. Upon receiving her parchment and examining her marks, her demeanour changed; a smile lit up her face as she rolled it up and stuffed it in her bag. Turning back to their cauldron Draco and Hermione began working diligently to produce the final step of the potion instructions.

That was until a spare rose petal was charmed to forcefully throw itself against her face repeatedly. A smug Malfoy could be seen pocketing his wand with a smirk. ''Malfoy!'' he brunette girl screeched trying to rid herself of the petal in question. Her tone, Snape noted, didn't have as much vehemence that it usually carried. The smirk the blond boy wore was more playful, rather than arrogant.

Merlin, Snape mused to himself. If it weren't for the Veela in him, I'd think that he actually likes Granger. Mordred above, he mused as he watched the girl charm the petal to multiply and stick to the boy's robes. And Granger, the swot, fancies him right back. He hid a smile, and refused to matchmaker.

Bottling, pouring and marking the vials and bottle Hermione jumped off her seat with practised ease. Draco followed her meekly, wondering why on earth his Amortentia scents had hints of vanilla, cinnamon and strawberries.

Hair flouncing as she walked up to the professor's desk a slight gust of wind blew through the room. Her scent carried by the wind, waiting right under Draco's nose.

Eyes wide open with shock; Draco finally understood the reason for his Amortentia scents. The girl, who was currently standing in front of him and lightly suffocating him with her vanilla and strawberry scented hair, was his mate.

Snape was beside himself with glee. The look of shocked understanding dawning on his Godson's face was slowly bringing a smile onto the old Potions Master's visage. Needless to say, Severus Tobias Snape was not one to be caught smiling in even the most humorous circumstances. Surprisingly, it went unnoticed by most of the students.

A sharp shrill ring interrupted the professor's musing. The lesson was over. Before Draco could escape to the confines of his private rooms, Snape pulled him aside.

"What happens in this room, stays within this room" Snape clarifies as a pensieve zoomed into view. Draco nodded solemnly as he watched his professor and godfather pull out several memories. Share a glance the two Slytherins placed their faces into the liquid getting transported to a night fifty years previous. He watched as a young Snape left the Great hall after finishing his Defence against the Dark Arts O.W.L exam. He watched as young Snape neared the Gryffindor group of Potter, Black, Lupin and Pettigrew.

Lily Evans joined the group and went to Snape's defence. Distantly he heard Snape shout at her in his humiliation and his fury, the unforgivable word: "Mudblood."

The scene then changed, to a very familiar hallway outside the portrait of the Fat Lady.

The scene changed…

"I'm sorry."

"I'm not interested."

"I'm sorry!"

"Save your breath" It was nighttime. Lily, who was wearing a dressing gown, stood with her arms folded in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady, at the entrance to Gryffindor Tower.

"I only came out because Mary told me you were threatening to sleep here."

"I was. I would have done. I never meant to call you Mudblood, it just –"

"Slipped out?" There was no pity in Lily's voice. "It's too late. I've made excuses for you for years. None of my friends can understand why I even talk to you. You and your precious little Death Eater friends – you see, you don't even deny it! You don't even deny that's what you're all aiming to be! You can't wait to join You-Know-Who, can you?"

He opened his mouth, but closed it without speaking.

"I can't pretend anymore. You've chosen your way, I've chosen mine."

"No – listen, I didn't mean –"

"– to call me Mudblood? But you call everyone of my birth Mudblood, Severus. Why should I be any different?"

He struggled on the verge of speech, but with a contemptuous look she turned and climbed back through the portrait hole…

Both Slytherins were promptly pulled from the memory back into Snape's chambers where Dumbledore stood patiently. ''Well, that was fun.'' he said gaily ''No Draco, I must speak with Professor Snape, I'm sure you can continue your conversation after dinner has come to a close.''

The blonde nodded to the men in the room and took his leave, his thoughts muddled and his heart even more so confused.

''Severus.'' Dumbledore called for the professor. ''It's pertinent that you begin to teach Defence against the Dark Arts. The students need greater tutelage. Horace Slughorn will be taking your post.'' The headmaster left no room for argument before he let slip and small smile and exited.

Dinner that night was a tense affair at the staff table. The students had taken notice of the missing Defence against the Dark Arts teacher. The doors opened one last time to present Dumbledore walking with a stocky kind of man. The lighting in the Hall made him seem walrus-like, his eyes seemed dull yes prominent. The students wonder what was going on.

The headmaster stood in front of the masses and simply held up a hand and the voice died down into silence. ''Professor Slughorn will be taking over the Potions post.'' he said simple as a gush of relief strung through the crowd of students. ''That's not saying Professor Snape will be unable to teach. In fact, he has chosen to take up the currently empty post of Defence against the Dark Arts professor.'' this caused a sudden uproar, which again he silenced with a term and imposing hand. ''Dinner is served.'' He announced as food appeared on the table.

Hermione, whose interest was piqued, arrived promptly after dinner to the Headmaster's office.

"Oh, there you are, Albus," he said. "You've been a very long lime. Upset stomach?"

"No, I was merely reading the Muggle magazines," said Dumbledore. "I do love knitting patterns. Well, Harry, we have trespassed upon Horace's hospitality quite long enough; I think it is time for us to leave."

Not at all reluctant to obey, Harry jumped to his feet. Slughorn sinned taken aback.

"You're leaving?"

"Yes, indeed. I think I know a lost cause when I see one."

"Lost…?"

Slughorn seemed agitated. He twiddled his fat thumbs and fidgeted as he watched Dumbledore fasten his travelling cloak, and Harry zip up his jacket.

"Well, I'm sorry you don't want the job, Horace," said Dumbledore, raising his uninjured hand in a farewell salute. "Hogwarts would have been glad to see you back again. Our greatly increased security notwithstanding, you will always be welcome to visit, should you wish to."

"Yes… well… very gracious… as I say…"

"Good-bye, then."

"Bye," said Harry.

They were at the front door when there was a shout from behind them.

"All right, all right, I'll do it!"

Dumbledore turned to see Slughorn standing breathless in the doorway to the sitting room.

"You will come out of retirement?"

"Yes, yes," said Slughorn impatiently. "I must be mad, but yes."

"Wonderful," said Dumbledore, beaming. "Then, Horace, we shall see you on the first of September."

"Yes, I daresay you will," grunted Slughorn.

As they set off down the garden path, Slughorn's voice floated after them, "I'll want a pay rise, Dumbledore!"

Dumbledore chuckled. The garden gate swung shut behind them, and they set off back down the hill through the dark and the swirling mist.

"Well done, Harry," said Dumbledore.

"I didn't do anything," said Harry in surprise.

"Oh yes you did. You showed Horace exactly how much he stands to gain by returning to Hogwarts. Did you like him?"

"Er…" Harry wasn't sure whether he liked Slughorn or not. He supposed he had been pleasant in his way, but he had also seemed vain and, whatever he said to the contrary, much too surprised that a Muggle-born should make a good witch.

"Horace," said Dumbledore, relieving Harry of the responsibility to say any of this, "likes his comfort. He also likes the company of the famous, the successful, and the powerful. He enjoys the feeling that he influences these people. He has never wanted to occupy the throne himself; he prefers the backseat — more room to spread out, you see. He used to handpick favourites at Hogwarts, sometimes for their ambition or their brains, sometimes for their charm or their talent, and he had an uncanny knack for choosing those who would go on to become outstanding in their various fields. Horace formed a kind of club of his favourites with himself at the centre, making introductions, forging useful contacts between members, and always reaping some kind of benefit in return, whether a free box of his favourite crystallized pineapple or the chance to recommend the next junior member of the Goblin liaison Office."

Harry had a sudden and vivid mental image of a great swollen spider, spinning a web around it, twitching a thread here and there to bring its large and juicy flies a little closer.

"I tell you all this," Dumbledore continued, "not to turn you against Horace — or, as we must now call him, Professor Slughorn — but to put you on your guard. He will undoubtedly try to collect you, Harry. You would be the jewel of his collection; 'the Boy Who Lived'… or, as they call you these days, 'the Chosen One.'"

Hermione, who stood at the piano, simply stared open mouthed at the scene that quickly dissolved behind her. It all made sense now. Well, at least to some degree.

Meanwhile, in the dungeons, Snape and Draco had arranged a meeting for the following afternoon. Needless to say, these coming weeks were going to be trying on everyone's nerves and sensibilities.