Hermione spent the rest of the evening trying to focus on closing her mind randomly as Draco paced the room they were sharing, trying to think of how to get the hairs from his parents. There had to be a way to get a hair from the one man who never allowed anyone to touch him. In fact, in all the years Draco had known his father, never once did he ever remember the man allowing Draco to touch him other than for side-by-side apparation. Something had to give though, there had to be a way to get one of his father's hair, a single one, even if Draco didn't know right now what it was.
While Draco tried to piece together how to get a hold of one of his father's hairs, Hermione laid on her stomach on her bed, her feet up in the air as she interested herself with some recreational reading. An Aging Potion is a potion which causes the drinker to become older. The more of an aging potion the drinker drinks, the older they will become. For example, only drinking a drop of the potion will only age the drinker by a few months. The effects of the Aging Potion are only temporary, wearing off withing a few hours to a few days depending on how much of the aging potion has been drunk and whether or not the potion was brewed correctly. When done properly, this potion will be a dark burgundy color.
Hermione fought against sleep as she felt her eyelids growing heavy. There is a debate amongst Potioneers, Hermione lays her head down on the book, now reading it at an angle as she watched words in her book blur together, blinking her eyes to try and clear up the words before they blurred up again. Closing her eyes again, a little bit slower, she opened them up, only to feel them getting heavier as they slowly drifted shut once again as she fell asleep.
Draco couldn't help but continue to pace as he tried to focus his thoughts. Something had to work. There had to be a way to do this. What would- Draco's thoughts stop as he turns back around, seeing Hermione laying down on her stomach, sleeping peacefully on top of her 'Moste Potente Potions' book.
"Merlin Granger," He says with a frustrated sigh, "How are we supposed to get anything done if you're falling asleep all the sodding time?!"
Walking over to her, Draco looks down at Hermione sleeping, shaking his head as he watched her body raise and drop with her breathing softly. He didn't understand it. She drove him crazy when she was awake. Her insufferable know-it-all attitude. Her obsession with playing everything by the rules and being overly careful. But when she slept, everything seemed different. She looked innocent, peaceful. He couldn't explain it but the way she had the lightest freckles across the bridge of her nose, almost invisible unless you looked closely, the way her staticy crazy hair fell around her face when she slept, almost as if she were laying her head on a fluffy cloud. Something about it all just made her look perfect. Draco found himself unable to look away.
"You sleep like this and you are going to be miserable. Then, guess who has to deal with your attitude from it!?" Draco says, shaking his head. "Look at me Granger, I'm talking to you like you can hear me." He says in disbelief, even to himself as he rolls her over onto her back before reaching underneath her shoulder blades and the bends of her knees, picking her up. Finding it awkward to try and reposition her on the smaller twin size mattress laying there on the floor, Draco looked over at the four-poster queen sized bed that he had been sleeping on instead.
"Fair enough Granger, but don't get used to it." He says before looking down at her, still fast asleep and shaking his head. It was so much harder to be an arse to her when she wasn't even awake enough to answer. Walking over to the larger bed, his bed, he laid her down on the sheets, covering her up gently to her neck. "That will be much more comfortable for sleeping." He said with a sigh before walking back to the mattress on the floor and grabbing Moste Potente Potions. Recreational reading, he thought to himself with a smirk as he looked down at it. Who reads a textbook recreationally? But at least she wasn't like Pansy, reading those pathetic romance novels. Like any man would ever act like that.
He looked down at the words of the book, the potion Hermione was currently reading caused his eyes to light up. That was it. It was brilliant, genius even. He only had a few hours, as he looked down at his watch, gold encrusted with diamonds marking where the numbers normally sat. Only a handful of hours before Hermione would be waking up, returning her nose to this blasted book to see what she could find out for the mission.
Quickly he ran over to the fireplace, grabbing a handful of floo powder before stepping into the brick passageway. Good thing about living in one of the biggest wizarding homes in England, there was a fireplace in every room of the house and the only one that was used more than the fireplace in his father's study was the one he was going to.
"Malfoy Kitchen." Draco said clearly, knowing that was the one place his parents would never step foot in the Manor. A place for servants. His father had repeated time and time again as Draco grew up in the Manor and it was still as right as ever, for right now, he felt like Dumbledore's servant.