Part XI

Wednesday afternoon found Draco waiting outside Snape's quarters, he had just came from Arithmancy. The class in which Hermione and Blaise's friendship blossomed making both himself and Lyra slightly jealous. Though he could understand the origins of his cousin's jealousy, he could not pin point why he felt the all-consuming rage when he saw Blaise place his hand on Hermione's. This coupled with the knowledge that her scent was his descent of his Amortentia inevitably made a muscle twitch in his neck and his mind ever more confused. The door opened gently, disturbing his inner musings.

''Come in Mr Malfoy.'' the Potions Master intoned silkily. As Draco entered, he got transported -in his mind's eye- to the memories shown to him the night previous.

"Sir." The blonde boy greeted as he sat by one of the tables in the professor's commons. He wasn't exactly sure as to why he was currently occupying a seat for an intimate chat with his Potions Master and Godfather. They seemed to have little in common, bar house Loyalty to Slytherin. A picture of a worried Hermione Granger zoomed into his head as a scowl flittered across his pale angular face. He wondered why he kept on thinking of the Muggleborn witch. It was unfathomable.

"So, Draco." The sinewy man began his line of questioning. "I spoke to your parents not only some weeks ago. They tell me you have a... condition.''

Draco's shock registered on his face for a moment until he schooled his features into polite indifference. ''I have no idea what you speak of Professor.'' he denied it easily as Hermione's face swam into vision, a scowl at his lie marring her face.

''Do not toy with this, Draco.'' Snape warned in low tones as he watch Draco's eyes turn harder. ''The Amortentia, what did you smell?''

The blonde boy stayed quiet but the confident and self-assured light in his eyes left almost immediately. He was now finding intense interest in either the tops of his Italian leather shoes or the stone floor of the dungeon. He refused to look up just in case another image of Hermione flew into his head distracting his train of thought.

"Draco." The sharp tone was now replaced with a calm sort of comforting tone. A hand landed softly on his shoulder in consolation. "You've changed Draco, I can see it. Don't make the same mistake I made."

Draco finally looked up, with a question lurking in the depths or those silver eyes. "Who was that girl, Snape?" he asked finally realising that he wouldn't get away with staying quiet. "Her eyes, they look familiar."

Something cracked in Severus' chest, it showed on his face. He didn't bother to hide it. "That was Lily Evans." He said, more whispered. His heart beat loudly against his chest as his mouth went dry as he remembered her smile and laugh. "Potter's mother. He has her eyes."

Draco's eyes widened in realisation. His Godfather, known heartless bat of the dungeons, wasn't so heartless after all. The image of Lily Evans hearing Severus Snape call her 'mudblood' flitted through his subconscious as he consciously remembered the first reaction Hermione had when he called her that vile name in second year.

-Flashback-

The Slytherins once again faced off with the Gryffindors, this time for a slot on the Quidditch pitch. Oliver Wood, who had in his hand an express note from Snape stating that the Slytherin team had permission to use the field to train their new seeker, was spitting mad. Everyone was shocked to see that the Slytherin teams sported the newest broomsticks. Nimbus 2001s.

"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in" granger spoke up. "They got in by skill." Her snobby tone aggravated the young Malfoy and he replied.

"No one asked you." He sneered for effect "Filthy little mudblood" he spat with much hate and contempt. He watched as her face twisted in horror and hurt, attempting to hide her feelings she ran off.

His younger self, he remembered, smirked and was proud of his words.

-End of Flashback-

He shuddered in disgust involuntarily. Somehow getting to know the bushy-haired know-it-all came with some sort emotional attachment. If he wasn't careful he'd be more attached than he really should have been.

"What did you smell in your Amortentia, Draco?" Snape reiterated adopting the tone of business once again. "Do not lie to me, I will know. I already know it has something to do with Granger."

He looked everywhere but straight at the Professor, he didn't want to reveal what was on his mind. The walls were blank, he noted with a snide snigger in his mind. The pensieve sat majestically by the wall, and he refused to think of what would lie in the liquid. More memories of Lily Evans perhaps.

"Vanilla and cinnamon." He said under his breath, just loud enough for Snape to hear. "Now, why was Nott chosen and not I. Have my parents not been in the good graces of the Dark Lord?"

"Indeed they have been Draco." Severus replied, ignoring the non-plussed rejection of the previous topic. He'd get onto the topic in due time, for now there were much more prudent issues to discuss. "But it seems that The Dark Lord wanted to test others' allegiance to him. There is talk of you being the second in line if he shall fail his task."

"What is the task, Sir?" Draco asked slightly worried. He acted the hard shell of evilness but couldn't find an ounce in him to properly torture a person. Words were as far as he ever went. All bark, no bite.

"I am not to speak of it, yet I have taken the Unbreakable Vow to protect both of you." He said as he swiftly turned to hide his face. "It is late Draco, it is time you made your way to bed. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Snape." The blonde boy replied as the weight of the truth hung on his shoulders. That night he barely got a wink of sleep in.

Waking the next morning, both Ron and Harry couldn't quite place where they last left their book for Potions. As they made their way from the Great hall after breakfast they found that the Potions hallway wafted, strangely, several different aromas. Arriving late, as per usual, the boys just caught the remnants of Slughorn's lecture. They stood, rather awkwardly at the door until Harry explained that they had misplaced their books.

''Any friend of Harry's is a friend of mine'' the professor intoned. ''Get your books out.'' he continued before turning back to the other students.

"Professor." Harry said awkwardly as he shuffled nervously. "We seemed to have misplaced our books."

"Not to worry. You can get what you need from the cupboard." He said pointing to the rickety old cupboard in the corner. The boys made their way to the cupboard and noticed there were only 2, very old and tattered, books. They took one look at each other and their hands lunged in to grabbed the best looking one for themselves.

"Now then," said Slughorn, returning to the front of the class and inflating his already bulging chest so that the buttons on his waistcoat threatened to burst 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 N.E.W.T.s. You ought to have heard of 'em, even if you haven't made 'em yet. Anyone tell me what this one is?"

He indicated the cauldron nearest the Slytherin table. Harry raised himself slightly in his seat and saw what looked like plain water boiling away inside it.

Hermione's well-practiced hand hit the air before anybody else's; Slughorn pointed at her.

"It's Veritaserum, a colourless, odourless potion that forces the drinker to tell the truth," said Hermione. "Very good, very good!" said Slughorn happily. "Now," he continued, pointing at the cauldron nearest the Ravenclaw table, "this one here is pretty well known… Featured in a few Ministry leaflets lately too… Who can —?"

Hermione's hand was fastest once more.

"lt's Polyjuice Potion, sir," she said.

Harry too had recognized the slow-bubbling, mud-like substance the second cauldron, but did not resent Hermione getting the credit for answering the question; she, after all, was the one who had succeeded in making it, back in their second year.

"That is correct, Ms. … "said Slughorn, as he trailed off not knowing her surname. "Granger, sie." She finished off for him.

"Sir, you haven't told us what's in this one," said Lyra Lestrange, pointing at a small black cauldron standing on Slughorn's desk. The potion within was splashing about merrily; it was the color of molten gold, and large drops were leaping like goldfish above the surface, though not a particle had spilled.

"Oho," said Slughorn again. Harry was sure that Slughorn had not forgotten the potion at all, but had waited to be asked for dramatic effect. "Yes. That. Well, that one, ladies and gentlemen, is a most curious little potion called Felix Felicis. I take it," he turned, smiling, to look at Hermione, who had let out an audible gasp, "that you know what Felix Felicis does, Miss Granger?"

It's liquid luck," said Hermione excitedly. The whole class seemed to sit up a little straighter. Nott, who was standing off to the side lifted his head slightly eyeing the vial of liquid. Harry caught his interested gaze and stored that information for a later date.

"Quite right, take another ten points for Gryffindor. Yes, it's a funny little potion, Felix Felicis," said Slughorn. "Desperately tricky to make, and disastrous to get wrong. However, if brewed correctly, as this has been, you will find that all your endeavours tend to succeed… at least until the effects wear off."

"So," said Slughorn, suddenly brisk, "This is what I offer each of you today. One tiny vial of liquid luck for the student, in the hour that remains, manages to brew an acceptable Draught of Living Death. Recipes for which can be found on page 10 of your books!" he paused as the students quickly grabbed for their books and flipped to the designated page. "You should know that in all the years of my previous tenure at Hogwarts, only once did a student brew a potion of sufficient quality to claim this prize. In any event - good luck."

Opening the book the first thing Harry noticed, much to his that the previous owner had scribbled all over the pages, so that the margins were as black as the printed portions. Bending low to decipher the ingredients (even here, the previous owner had made annotations and crossed things out) Harry hurried off toward the store cupboard to find what he needed. As he dashed back to his cauldron, he saw Malfoy cutting up Valerian roots as fast as he could.

Everyone kept glancing around at what the rest of the class was doing; this was both an advantage and a disadvantage of Potions, that it was hard to keep your work private. Within ten minutes, the whole place was full of bluish steam. Hermione, of course, seemed to have progressed furthest. Her potion already resembled the "smooth, black currant-coloured liquid" mentioned as the ideal halfway stage.

Having finished chopping his roots, Harry bent low over his book again. It was really very irritating, having to try and decipher the directions under all the stupid scribbles of the previous owner, who for some reason had taken issue with the order to cut up the sopophorous bean and had written in the alternative instruction:

Crush with flat side of silver dagger, releases juice better than cutting.

The sopophorous bean was proving very difficult to cut up. Harry turned to Hermione.

"Can I borrow your silver knife?"

She nodded impatiently, not taking her eyes off her potion, which was still deep purple, though according to the book ought to be turning a light shade of lilac by now.

Harry crushed his bean with the flat side of the dagger. To his astonishment, it immediately exuded so much juice he was amazed the shrivelled bean could have held it all.

Hastily scooping it all into the cauldron he saw, to his surprise, that the potion immediately turned exactly the shade of lilac described by the textbook.

His annoyance with the previous owner vanishing on the spot, Harry now squinted at the next line of instructions. According the book, he had to stir counter clockwise until the potion turned clear as water. According to the addition the previous owner made, however, he ought to add a clockwise stir after every seventh counter clockwise stir. Could the old owner be right twice?

Harry stirred counter clockwise, held his breath, and stirred once clockwise. The effect was immediate. The potion turned pale pink.

"How are you doing that?" demanded Hermione, who was redfaced and whose hair was growing bushier and bushier in the fumes from her cauldron; her potion was still resolutely purple.

"Add a clockwise stir —"

"No, no, the book says counter clockwise!" she snapped.

Harry shrugged and continued what he was doing. Seven stirs counterdockwise, one clockwise, pause… seven stirs counter clockwise, one stir clockwise…

Across the table, Ron was cursing fluently under his breath; his potion looked like liquid licorice. Harry glanced around. As far as he could see, no one else's potion had turned as pale as his. He felt elated, something that had certainly never happened before in this dungeon.

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

"Merlin's Beard Harry! It's prefect!" the professor exclaimed as he watched the leaf he dropped into Harry's potion fizzle out of existence. "Sp perfect I daresay one drop will kill us all." Bringing the class's attention to the front of the room the stocky Potions Master held up the small vial of Liquid Luck. "Here you are, then, here you are — one bottle of Felix Felicis, as promised, and use it well!"

Harry slipped the tiny bottle of golden liquid into his inner pocket, feeling an odd combination of delight at the furious looks on the Slytherins' faces and guilt at the disappointed expression on Hermione's. Ron looked simply dumbfounded.

Nobody else was looking. Harry bent low to retrieve the book, and as he did so, he saw something scribbled along the bottom of the back cover in the same small, cramped handwriting as the instructions that had won him his bottle of Felix Felicis, now safely hidden inside a pair of socks in his trunk upstairs.

This book is the property of the Half Blood Prince.

"The Half-Blood Prince." Harry whispered as Ron came into earshot, the black-haired boy had yet to notice. "Who the bloody hell is that?"

Hermione who was still rather angry at Harry for the Quidditch incident had heard the last portion of his question to himself. "How did you do it?" she asked in a curiously cold tone. She couldn't keep the ice from her tone, even if he still hadn't realised the damage he'd done to her. "How did you get it so perfect, you didn't even follow the proper instructions?"

Harry looked up, surprised at her tone and went towards her holding out his arms. He only noticed at the last minute, her flinch as he drew closer to her. "Mione, what's wrong?" he asked clearly perplexed at her behaviour. "What did I do wrong?"

Ron looked between his two best friends as the temperature in the corridor went down to rapidly. Pulling them into an abandoned classroom before Hermione could blow up in public; Ron thought to himself what could get Hermione so riled up. But then he remembered Ginny. Ginny and Harry were now attached at the hip. The redhead slowly backed away and cast a silencing spell on the door of the room as he closed it.

"WHAT DID YOU DO WORNG?" Hermione finally exploded as her face grew steadily red. "What didn't you do wrong should be the question you arse." She said heatedly not minding for foul language. She was too caught up in all her feelings to care about the consequences of her words. "You bloody well know that I love you, yet you go and snog Ginny behind my back. Wait, no, not behind my back! You snogged her right in front of my face at the Quidditch celebration!"

Harry just sat there stunned and motionless. He had never seen Hermione so angry, so aggravated. She was never this aggravated even when Malfoy baited her. He wanted to apologise, he wanted to plead for her forgiveness and get things back to the way they once were. He knew that this hope was all in vain, nothing would be right again, Ginny was always hanging off his arm smirking in triumph. She had finally sunk her claws into her childhood sweetheart. Harry looked anywhere but at the eyes of his girlfriend, who seemed to be seething to the point where her magic crackled dangerously about her.

Out of nowhere, a vase came hurtling at his head as she began to speak in a low threatening voice. "You don't get to even apologise, Harry James Potter." Each word punctuated with a flying object. Each object skilfully dodged by harry, who by now was rather scared. "You don't get to explain yourself, you don't even get to reason your action out to me." She screeched as her emotions began to overwhelm her. "You know why?" he shook his head in response when he realised she was waiting for him to say something. "Because we're over." She said in an eerily calm voice.

"W-w-what?" Harry stumbled over the word. He couldn't believe it was end like this.

"We. Are. Over." She said slowly as if she were speaking to a baby. "Leave. Now." She said pointing to the door, as he got up and stumbled over his own feet to make sure he was out of harm's way. What he didn't see as he ran out were tears running down her porcelain cheeks. Tears of anger. Tears of sadness. Most of all, tears of heartbreak.

The door which was flung open by the running Harry now squeaked on its hinges as Hermione lifted her head to find a rather distressed Blaise Zabini, who had rumpled clothing and mussed up hair. "Hermione, Draco's been looking all over for you." He said slightly puffed out "What have you- Are you crying?" he asked genuinely worried, suddenly forgetting that he was meant to take her to Draco.

He notice she had taken her shoes off, without realising that shards of glass, ceramic and other sharp objects littered the floor. She got up and ran to hi, hurtling her body into his arms. Her feet, which had come in contact with glass and ceramic shards, were now bleeding. She cared not for it, instead buried her head in the crook of his neck and cried into his robes.

Slowly pulling the grieving witch away he explained to her that he needed to inform Draco of their whereabouts. A wispy Stallion erupted from the tip of his wand. He spoke directly to it. "Find Draco and tell him that Hermione and I are safe. Tell him the Fifth year's Defence against the Dark Arts classroom ." The patrons nodded its acquiescence, reared on its hind legs and galloped off to find Draco Malfoy.

Draco, who sat with his cousins at a deserted table in the library, was shocked out of his wits when a stunning stallion galloped up to him and relayed Blaise's message with the Italian man's brogue. He instantly jumped up, ignoring the amused and clearly teasing smiles of Lyra and Cassie. He was going to check what had happened to Hermione Granger.

That is how Draco found them. Hermione crying openly in the Slytherin's arms; said Slytherin seemed unsure of what to do and began to look uncomfortable. Blaise, with his harms hurting, slowly handing Hermione off to Draco and made a quick escape. Draco shook his head at his best mate's discomfort. Crying girls were never a man's forte. He too noticed the shards of glass and ceramic scattered all over the classroom floor, as well as her shoes haphazardly tossed to the side. He also noticed blood, staring from the seat in which he assumed she sat in and ending where Blaise once stood.

Her sniffling ceased, her sobs subsided and her eyes remained red-rimmed. She looked up and realised that Draco was holding her securely to his body. "Oh." She said pathetically. "We had tutoring didn't we, during this free period?"

He nodded, but when he heard a distinct 'plop' he turned to look for its origin. His gaze landed on her blood drenched feet. "Sodding hell, Granger." He muttered under his breath. He was doing a lot of that lately, he mused to himself. Speaking louder this time, "Are you trying to kill yourself, witch?"

"You almost sound as if you care." She said as she kept close watch of him as he began healing the cuts on her feet. He still looked somewhat uncomfortable, so she tried to diffuse the tension with a joke. "Don't make a habit of it, might just ruin your reputation Draco." She laughed softly, that was a noise dearly welcomed by his ears; a sound reminiscent of an angel's voice.

"Daft witch." He exclaimed in humour. Her plan had clearly worked; he began conversing with her like he would with his cousins and friends. "Clearly I care. It seems you have a penchant of finding comfort in me." He said playfully has he waggled his eyebrows. "You are in no way fit to tutor me, right now. Sit and tell me what happened. Don't let it get out, Granger. Or you'll find yourself in a tough spot." He said looking at her seriously, but the quirk of his mouth gave away his playful demeanour.

"Draconis Lucius Malfoy!" she exclaimed loudly, poking his stomach. "Don't you dare threaten me. That wasn't very gentlemanly." His shocked expression at the use of his full name, amused her to no end.

"Come on, if I can't tutor you, we can at least do some revision using flash cards." She said to him, earning her a glare and a sigh of exasperation. "Don't you complain, mister. We do one hour, and you can sit and listen to me curse out Harry Bloody Potter."

"It's a good thing that Snape let us off Study Hall." Draco smirked; it was good to have retribution against his nemesis, in the form of Potter's best friend cursing the sod's name. The twinkle in his eye that never existed before became rather apparent. He watched as she conjured the cards and began asking him mundane questions about the transfiguration course framework. He smartly replied, "That's what you're here for. To teach me, remember?" This earned him a quick slap across the back of the head. He rubbed his head gingerly. "I was joking, you violent little thing. That actually hurt."

Hermione's dramatic intake of breath had Draco worried for a second until she burst into laughter. "Wonders shall never cease." She said between her bouts of giggles and outright laughter. "First Draco Malfoy cares for me, and now the Prince of Slytherin can joke. I thought it impossible, almost unbearable." She added, dramatically throwing the back of her hand across her forehead and pretending to faint. Draco caught her and laughed at her antics.

The hour of flash card studying flew by in a blur of laughter and playful banter between the Slytherin and Gryffindor. Before they knew it, they sat on a transfigured –thanks to Draco's new skills- comfortable red and silver futon.

A piece of parchment dropped from the book in her lap onto the floor. Hermione turned to pick it up, and only regretted it the moment she read the contents of the wretched parchment. It was one of the many love notes she and Harry had shared in their time together. Summoning one of her abnormally large stuffed teddy bears, she gave every ounce of her energy she had left and hugged the poor bear within an inch of its life.

"Easy there Granger, don't want to kill the bear." He said as he eased the bear out of her surprisingly firm grip. "Talk to me, what happened while we were looking for you?"

"The prat had the gall to ask me what he had done wrong." She said in a soft voice, a voice with Draco had never heard her speak with. She almost seemed as small as she sounded. "He didn't have to ask for forgiveness, he was never good at hiding his true intentions. Wouldn't even let him get a word in."

Draco merely nodded for her to go on, he was afraid of what might come next. She had yet to account for the broken glass and ceramic vases. For once in his life, he actually pitied Potter. If Hermione's punch in their third year rendered him bedridden in the Hospital Wing for a week – no exaggerations- he dreaded to think what damage could have been caused if one of those vases had made contact with any body parts.

The two students sat there and chatted until the late hours of the afternoon. Hermione decided that things were going to change.

A/N: So I decided, against better judgement again, that I'd post this chapter. Enjoy and Review. I'll probably post the next two chapters within a month or so. Uni work is piling up.