Chapter Two

Potions hadn't been particularly eventful for Ron, who admittedly had been close to dozing off. While the whole class had busied themselves with frantic attempts of concocting the perfect Draught of Living Death, Harry and Hermione included, Ron was lost in his own thoughts.

For the past week and a half, Harry had insisted on keeping an eye out for anything remotely suspicious, which included many late nights spent in the common room studying the Marauder's map almost religiously. They hadn't made much progress – all they'd discovered so far was that Malfoy enjoyed midnight walks around the castle, and apparently, this was proof enough for Harry. He was so convinced the Slytherin was up to something that he would refuse to believe otherwise, even when Hermione had suggested the blond may simply have suffered from insomnia.

Ron sighed. It seemed once his best friend had made his mind up about something there was no going back, and until they got their hands on actual, physical evidence, they'd be stuck listening to Harry's paranoia-induced theories forever.

"Ron," said Hermione, elbowing the boy hard and consequently snapping him out of his reverie. "You really should be focusing on your potion."

Ron stared down at his creation. It couldn't be any further off from what Slughorn had wanted. It was a murky brown colour when it should have been a pale pink, like Harry's.

"Add some Murtlap leaves," she instructed, eyeing Ron's potion with a look of disbelief before anxiously returning to her own. It seemed he was the only student not bothered about winning the small bottle of Felix Felicis that Slughorn had promised.

With a sigh, Ron pushed himself up from the table and made his way to the student cupboard, passing by the four large cauldrons Slughorn had used for his earlier demonstration. Humming softly to himself (Dean had gotten this muggle tune stuck in his head for hours), Ron had made to enter the cupboard when out of nowhere, someone had aggressively barged into him from behind. Having lost his balance from the sudden impact, he found himself on the stone cold dungeon floor. Frowning, he looked up to see Malfoy towering over him with a smug grin. Speak of the devil. "Watch where you're going, Weasley," the blond said haughtily.

Narrowing his eyes, Ron was about to grumble something (offensive) back but stopped when something had caught his attention. It was the third cauldron, with its mud-like substance glistening inside. Recognising it as Polyjuice potion, Ron stared at the slow-bubbling concoction carefully, and then at Malfoy, and suddenly, inspiration struck.

"Sorry," he said mildly before getting back onto his feet, brushing himself off and walking away, leaving Malfoy behind, confused.

.

.

"You want us to… what?" Hermione's bewildered voice rang out in the empty common room that night, and Ron forbore the urge to roll his eyes. He couldn't understand why she was having a hard time grasping his plan, when it was, in fact, quite straight-forward.

"I said we should use the Polyjuice Potion, like we did in second year, to get answers out of Malfoy," he repeated, for what felt like the umpteenth time. "If it worked then, it should work now." He turned his head and regarded Harry, who had been watching the entire exchange while munching on a cauldron cake. "You agree with me, don't you, Harry?"

Harry swallowed his bite before answering, "Of course I do. I think it's a brilliant idea."

Ron grinned appreciatively while Hermione scoffed in indignation. "Maybe I'm just being silly, but I seem to recall the two of you initially disliking the idea when I first suggested it in second year," she pointed out, folding her arms across her chest.

Harry shrugged. "That was before we succeeded."

Hermione glared at him.

"So all we need to do is to trick Crabbe and Goyle like we did last time, knock them out, pluck their hair and steal their robes," he continued, unfazed by Hermione's incessant scowling.

Ron nodded. "Pretty much," he confirmed, then chuckled as he stared at his bushy haired friend. "Who will you be this time? Not another cat, I hope."

Her scowl deepened as she huffed, "I think I'll be Pansy Parkinson, thank you very much."

Harry and Ron exchanged amused glances.

"So … a pug then."

Hermione leaned over her chair and smacked Ron on the arm.

"Ouch – that hurt!"

"You're an idiot."

Harry rolled his eyes. "If you two are quite done, I would very much appreciate it."

Hermione resumed her position while Ron rubbed his sore arm. "As I was saying," she cleared her throat. "I'll be Pansy Parkinson. As Malfoy's girlfriend, I expect he'd tell her loads of information. Much more than Crabbe and Goyle, anyway."

"I suppose that's true. It helps that they're so stupid. We could ask the ferret to repeat anything he may have told them and he wouldn't even suspect a thing. Honestly, those two could give Dumb and Dumber a run for their money," remarked Harry, causing Hermione to giggle.

"Dumb and Dumber?" asked Ron with a puzzled expression. Harry waved him off. "It's a muggle movie that came out almost two years ago," he explained. "But that's not important right now. What we need is to plan out how we're going to make the potion. As I recall, it took over a month to make last time."

Hermione smiled, pleased that someone other than herself had actually paid attention. "Well, we could use Myrtle's bathroom. She was awfully fond of you, Harry, that she'd probably allow us to share it with her again."

Ron watched as Harry blushed, evidently flustered by the idea. He decided to step in and save his friend from reacquainting himself with the overly-sensitive, somewhat-perverted ghost.

"There's really no need, especially since we don't have to brew anything. From what I've seen earlier today, Slughorn has a whole cauldron filled with Polyjuice potion."

While Harry appeared relieved, Hermione's eyes grew wide with what Ron could only assume was her must-not-break-rules-as-a-prefect gaze.

"You want us to steal from a teacher?" she squeaked.

Ron scoffed, "Why not? You're a Gryffindor, aren't you? Besides, it's not as if you haven't done it before."

"Yeah but that – that was different!" cried Hermione.

"Different how?" asked Harry. "Last time you stole from Snape. This time you'll be stealing from Slughorn, who's not only nicer but also forgetful, so he probably won't even realise anything was taken."

"And even if he does realise, we'll be the last people he'd suspect," he added reassuringly at the doe-eyed expression on Hermione's face.

Hermione paused as she silently reflected on this. "Fine," she grumbled after a while, though she didn't seem entirely convinced. "But only if I get to plan it."

"Sure thing," said Ron with a smile.

"It'll be harder, much harder than last time. Especially since we're not twelve anymore and the naivety has worn off," Hermione said thoughtfully. "While Crabbe and Goyle should be easy to handle I reckon Pansy Parkinson would put up a fight."

"So we immobilise her," said Harry. "A quick Petrificus Totalus should do it."

Hermione frowned. "But she'll still be able to see and hear everything around her. She'll know it was us."

"Not unless we use the cloak," suggested Ron. "If that's OK with you, Harry." Harry nodded. "Of course it is."

"Right," continued Ron, "then after we knock her out – under the cloak, of course – we can blindfold her and pour some Sleeping Draught down her throat."

Hermione remained unmoved. She took a deep breath, as if she couldn't believe what she was about to say, "I think we should ask Fred and George for some ideas. I'm sure they have something in that shop of theirs that can help us out."

There was a slight pause. Harry and Ron stared in utter bewilderment at their bushy haired, rule-abiding best friend, completely taken aback by her suggestion.

"You want to go to Fred and George for help? I thought you found their products a waste of time," asked Harry, amused.

"I admit I may have thought that at first," she confessed sheepishly. "But some of their products are down-right genius. Like their Instant Darkness Powder, do you know how handy that could be?

Ron continued to gape. "I wish the twins heard you say that. Being praised by the Hermione Granger, brightest witch of our age. They'd make an entire line of products in your honour. "

Blushing profusely, Hermione said, "Ron, can you write them and ask if they could meet us this weekend at Hogsmeade? We can explain the whole situation to them. Well, not the whole situation - just the edited version, of course."

Summoning a parchment and quill, Ron got to work writing the letter. Once he had finished (Hermione had proof read and corrected his grammar along the way), he turned to his friends. "I'll take this to the Owlery first thing tomorrow morning," he promised.

"You can use Hedwig, if you want. He's much faster than Pig," offered Harry, to which Ron agreed.

"Right, now that we've gotten that sorted," said Hermione, summoning some parchment of her own, she tapped it twice with her wand. "I've charmed it so that only we can read what's on here," she explained. "To anyone else it's a detention note from Snape, highlighting the various ways he'll make the student clean the cauldrons."

At the bemused glances sent her way, she continued, "He's been our potions teacher for years, his handwriting is so easy to forge. Besides, anyone who accidentally comes across this parchment and sees this note would immediately drop it out of fear."

"Uh huh," said Ron, sounding unconvinced, though deep down he knew that if it were him who had stumbled across the note, he'd do exactly as Hermione had predicted.

Hermione ignored him as she began to scribble down some ideas onto the parchment. "Phase One: Steal the Polyjuice Potion from Slughorn's office," she read aloud. "Phase Two, anyone?"

"Phase Two: Trick Crabbe and Goyle with some sweets, promptly nick a strand or two from their hair and draw moustaches on their faces as they sleep," Ron said, snickering, as Hermione jotted every word (barring the last part) down.

"We'll add Pansy's part once we've gotten some ideas from the twins," she said. "And finally, Phase Three – Harry?"

"Hmm... how about, Phase Three: down the potion, masquerade as Malfoy's friends and interrogate the ferret until he sings like a canary," said Harry, flashing a grin and prompting his friends to laugh along.

"As for the title, I think we should call it: How to catch a ferret."

.

Draco scowled into his porridge the next morning, doing a rather accurate impression of his Head of House as he took an angry bite.

"What's gotten your knickers in a twist?" asked Blaise as he slid into the opposite seat. "It's the porridge, isn't it? I've always said it – countless of times now – that they should add more flavours, but nooo, it has to be blueberry just because the Headmaster likes it. Stupid Gryffindors," he said, lifting his chin up in indignation.

Draco, who was fairly used to Blaise's unprovoked, over-the-top rants, dropped his spoon and sighed.

"No, Blaise. For the last time, I don't give a crap about the stupid porridge here!" he snapped at his friend. "Not when I've got loads of other things on my mind."

Though he looked offended at first, Blaise's expression eventually softened. "It's getting to you, huh? I thought you said it was some kind of privilege to serve him."

"It is," Draco said quickly, though he wasn't so sure anymore.

"Then why do you look so stressed?" asked Blaise, smearing jam onto his toast. "The way I see it, if you're truly happy to serve him, you wouldn't be looking like this." He directed his pointer finger at Draco, "You look like shit."

"Thanks," Draco scoffed, before shoving another spoonful of porridge into his mouth, signalling the end of the conversation. He really didn't feel like talking to anyone at the moment, afraid that if he did, they'd see right through him as Blaise had just done.

Ever since Draco had been given the Dark Mark, he'd noticed how differently people treated him. Pansy had started parading him around more often, Crabbe and Goyle were more obedient than ever (which in itself spoke volumes) and every time he had so much as stepped foot into the Slytherin common room, people would drop whatever it was that they were doing to gawk at him. It was as if someone had suddenly thrust him into the spotlight, and for the first time in his life, the attention was unwanted.

As he drank his pumpkin juice, he felt a pair of eyes burning into his skull and knew immediately who it was.

"Blaise, is Professor Snape, by any chance, looking this way?" he asked, in what he hoped was an innocent voice.

Blaise scanned the High Table. "Yeah, in fact he's headed towards us. Why?"

"Damn," said Draco under his breath, before refocusing his attention onto Blaise. "No reason."

Blaise eyed him suspiciously. "Okay?"

It seemed his friend was more perceptive than he had initially figured. Crap. Grabbing an apple, he quickly got up from the table. "Look, Blaise, I've gotta go but I'll catch you later, yeah?"

"Sure?"

And with that, Draco hastily sped away from the Great Hall as fast as his legs could carry him, not stopping until he reached the end of the Entrance Hall. He sneaked a peek over his shoulder to see Professor Snape emerging from the crowd, sour-faced, his eyes darting around furiously, and Draco had no doubt in his mind that it was he whom Professor Snape was looking for.

Their eyes met briefly, but it was enough to give Draco a jump start for he continued running down the corridor, accidentally dropping his apple along the way. Another glance over his shoulder showed Professor Snape gaining on him, but not before Longbottom (who came out of nowhere) tripped over the apple, lost his footing and grabbed onto the closest thing (which, unfortunately for him, was Professor Snape), causing the two of them to fall onto the ground, like a stack of dominoes.

Laughter emerged from the other students who had stopped to watch, and Draco used this opportunity to get away, unnoticed. He thanked his lucky stars that Longbottom was such a klutz and resolved to treat the boy a little nicer in the future. Maybe he wouldn't trip him up every so often or steal his frog when he was bored.

Draco paused and leaned his head back against one of the castle statues. It was getting harder to avoid Professor Snape. It seemed the sullen Professor had made it his personal duty to try and talk Draco out of his mission, obviously wanting all the glory to himself. At least, that's what his father had told him when he had visited him at Azkaban that summer. He sighed, unsure of what to believe anymore. His resolve was slowly crumbling and he didn't know what to do about it.

Until he knew for sure how he was going to complete this impossible mission of his, he'd continue to fix the Vanishing Cabinet in the Room of Requirement as planned in order to sneak his fellow Death Eaters into the castle.

And in the meanwhile, he'd stay far away from Professor Snape, he decided. If he wasn't his Head of House, Draco may have seriously considered a restraining order against the man.

A/N: As you can probably tell I've messed about with the trio's potions lessons, so the first ever potion lesson they had in book 6 canon has occurred a week later. Nonetheless I hope you enjoyed this chapter!