Hermione arrived ten minutes early. She had written and rewritten her note to Draco several times, each time worrying that she was giving away too much while simultaneously working out the potion. She hadn't needed to write the twins, as she had feared, as the ingredients were listed on another advertisement for the potion later on in the catalogue. As far as Hermione could tell, there wasn't anything wrong with the potion.

She walked back and forth in the room, made something like a councilor's office when Hermione had envisioned it in the corridor. There was a plush couch across from a matching T-cushion chair. For some reason there was also a bookshelf in the corner behind a desk. Hermione thought about going to sit at it, figuring it would calm her down, but decided against it. She could be mature; she could have a conversation about sex with Draco and, presumably, Pansy.

But that was the trouble, wasn't it? It couldn't be about Pansy. If it were, there wouldn't be any sort of problem. It would have worked itself out in a matter of days at the most. Therefore, Malfoy must be in some sort of side romance, or took the potion at a terrible time. But both potions were taken.

The sound of the door reforming in the wall stopped Hermione's thoughts and pacing. In order to keep from looking frantic, she took a seat in the single chair and, when Malfoy came in, she nodded to the couch before her. Much to her surprise, Pansy came in just after and closed the door.

"Granger," they each said.

"Malfoy, Parkinson." They sounded as if they were about to face off in some sort of duel rather than have a chat.

Draco eyed the couch warily. "Do you not have it?" he asked.

"I said I needed to talk with you about it."

With his hand on Pansy's lower back, the two Slytherins took their places, fidgeting as if the fabric of the couch was uncomfortable. Pansy stacked her hands on her knee and pursed her lips. Hermione could only wonder if Draco had explained why she was here.

"Well," Draco started, "talk."

For someone that had been so desperate to seek her out for help, Malfoy was acting very much his old self. Why had Hermione talked herself into being a part of this? "Right, well, so far as I can tell, there isn't anything wrong with the potion you drank. Did you each drink one?" When they both nodded, she let out a sigh of relief. Neither of them seemed happy about her statement though. Pansy opened her mouth to say something, so Hermione plowed on. "In any case, nothing was amiss with the potion in that nothing had been added or left out. However, I made what I believed to be the antidote, and it wasn't complete."

Pansy seemed confused by the statement, but Draco nodded. "It wasn't clear was it? What did you do wrong?"

"Correct, when I combined the potion you gave me and the antidote it was cloudy, meaning that although I had the proper ingredients, the amounts were off. I tried three times, each time I had the same result, I can only assume that the potion was somehow made with extra of one component." Hermione chewed on her tongue for a few seconds, a habit she had picked up in order to allow people to digest what she was saying in chunks. "I believe that what happened was that there was too much juice from the…"

"Granger!" Malfoy cut her off before she could get any further in her specifics. "As interesting as the fuck ups of those Weasley twits are, ihow/i do we fix our problem?"

Hermione pursed her lips and inhaled sharply. "Unfortunately the antidote to the excess ingredient is highly toxic, and the amount needed to counter this potion is fatal."

Pansy's mouth fell open. "You mean we have to die?"

"No, not at all." Hermione held up her hands to calm the instantly distressed witch. "You just have to have sex."

The seconds ticked by, each a pregnant moment, for at least half a minute. Malfoy was the first to make noise, clearing his throat. "As you might have guessed, Granger, we've tried that."

"I don't understand." Hermione admitted.

"Well, it usually starts with us going off alone," Malfoy began.

"No, not that!" Pansy and Draco shared identical smirks. Hermione rolled her eyes. "I mean, the potion is supposed to improve the sensations physically while making you more attracted to the person you saw while you took it. If you both took it and were next to each other while you took it, I can only assume you were looking at each other. Have you been feeling inexplicably attracted to anyone else?"

Now time completely stood still. Both Pansy's and Draco's eyes were wide, the thoughts behind them being tumultuously tossed about in their minds. "So you're saying," Pansy eventually spoke up, "that in order to fix what this potion has done to us, we have to have sex with the person we've been feeling attracted to?" She sounded hesitant; perhaps disbelieving.

"If that doesn't do it, I don't know what will." It hadn't occurred to Hermione that they would both have to have sex with the same person. Perhaps it was someone who walked by at a bad time, they had both glanced over just as the juice kicked in. "I'll leave you two alone to sort it out."

Hermione stood, but Pansy and Draco jumped up at the same time. "You can't do that, Granger," Pansy said.

"Why not? I'm not going to stay here. I did my part; you have to figure out the rest on your own." She turned to leave and two strong arms wrapped around her.

"That's just the problem," Draco said in a silky low tone. "You are ithe rest/i." Hermione felt as if she had been hit with a body bind curse. Pansy came around to Hermione's front. "Don't you remember?" he continued. "You found us in the tower, woke us up. That was the potion. You were the first thing we saw." Hermione tried to tug out of Draco's grip, but she was already sandwiched between the two. Both were breathing deeply, their faces pressed in on either side of her neck. "And every day since then, all we've been able to think about is you.

"Your hair."

"Your eyes."

"Your curves."

"Your voice."

"All the dirty things we could do to you."

"And you to us."

Their back and forth play worried Hermione, more so than their hot bodies pressed up against her. They had to be lying; this had to be some trick. How in the world, after all that they had been through, all the hatred, it would be her that they were fixated on? Almost as soon as she thought it, she confirmed it. They hated her, despite the changes others were making to make friends. She was still dirty blood to them, and there was no way they would ever touch her unless a spell had been cast on them.