"Hermione — hey, Hermione!"

Hermione struggled to stop amidst the crowd of moving students. She found herself pressed against the wall, out of the way of traffic as Harry hurried through the mass of people to catch her up.

"Is something wrong?"

"No! Just — just wanted to tell you Slughorn's next dinner party is this Friday. He told me to invite you." Harry frowned. "And Malfoy, actually, when you see him."

"I'll let him know. Is that really it?"

Harry grinned. "I also got this." And then he reached into the deep pocket of his robes and produced a small, clear vial of translucent fluid. Had she not already seen it, she might have thought it was water.

"Harry!" she hissed and forcibly shoved his hand back into the long fabric of his robes. None of the pupils around them seemed to have noticed, but it didn't dislodge Hermione's heart from her throat. "How on Earth did you get that?"

"Nicked it from Slughorn's lab, of course. You had to run off to Ancient Runes, but I stayed a few minutes after. That's when he invited me to the party, by the way. But I had my Cloak with me, so when he thought I'd gone, I just went into his lab and took it. He didn't even know I was there."

"Harry that's — that's incredibly stupid. How do you know he doesn't know what you did? Or that he won't notice it's missing?"

"Hermione, he never goes in there. Everything is covered in dust. I practically had to summon the vial out of a pile of old crap. No way he'll notice it's missing. Here." He grabbed her wrist and forced the little sealed vial of Veritaserum into her hand.

"What are you doing?! I don't want it!" But he resisted all her attempts to make him take it back.

"But I need you to hang onto it! Look —" Harry pulled her back into the stream of traffic going to the Great Hall. "At the end of dinner, we're going to get this memory from him. If it's not going well, I need you to slip that in his tea while I'm talking to him."

"Harry, that's —"

"We can't wait any longer, Hermione! Dumbledore" — Harry lowered his voice to a whisper — "Dumbledore's dying. We can't afford to just wait until Slughorn's ready to confess. I'm not saying we will use it, just that we need it as a last resort, if it comes to that. Will you help me?"

Hermione searched his eyes, bright and clear. There's always Veritaserum, Draco had said. Had it really come to this?

Her fingers curled around the teardrop-shaped vial, already warmed by her hand. "Alright. Yes. Yes, I'll help you, Harry."

"Thank you, Hermi—"

"But I'm not drugging a teacher until we've exhausted all other options. I mean it."

"Of course, Hermione. Absolutely. You're amazing."

They'd reached the Great Hall and the stream of students was diverging to different tables. Hermione let the current take her to the Gryffindor table, where Ron and Neville were already sitting.

"Hey," greeted Harry as he dropped into a seat and reached for a goblet.

They settled into conversation; Hermione thought it might be about Quidditch. Honestly, she had trouble paying attention to anything but the little potion she'd secured in her pocket. She'd set Professor Snape on fire as a first year. She ought to have no trouble with this. Right?

Across the hall, Draco gave her a wan smile, so slight it probably would have gone unnoticed by anyone else. She hadn't even realised she'd been looking at him; her eyes had sought him out without her thinking about it. She wasn't sure it was even worth trying to break the habit at this point.

She smiled back, just a little, and returned her attention to her tablemates.

Later that evening, Hermione peered into the cauldron. The Wolfsbane seemed just as perfect as every other time they'd brewed it, but she still wanted to be certain before she exposed her lungs to it.

Behind her, Draco's fingertips danced up her back. She felt them even through the layers of her clothes. She repressed a shiver.

"Are you done?" he asked, and she heard the amusement in his voice.

"Nearly, wh— You're not wearing your charm!" Indeed, Draco's grin was unhindered by a wobbling, magical bubble. Irrational panic seized her before her brain caught up and realised that he had not yet dropped dead.

"Of course I'm not. The potion is obviously fine. See?" He produced his wand and aimed it at her head. "Finite incantatem!" The bubble popped, allowing her to breathe the lab's dusty, sour air, but Hermione did not feel particularly relieved.

"That was incredibly reckless, you know."

"No, you're just unnecessarily cautious. Do you really think I would've done that if I didn't feel certain the potion had been done right?"

"There's no harm in checking —"

"None at all. It is, however, a tragic loss when it takes so much time." He advanced on her, guiding her back against the benchtop.

"Time from what? I'd gladly spend a few minutes just to make sure we don't d— oh!"

She yelped when he leant down to kiss her, his right hand curling around her waist and then her back whilst his other went to her shoulder, his long fingers grazing her neck. The edge of the benchtop pressed against her middle back, bracing her against him. His front was flush against hers, and she felt marvellously surrounded by him on all sides. The images of their written conversation came back in a rush seconds before he crouched and, with one arm around her waist and the other behind her knees, bumped her up onto the benchtop. It was precarious; she nearly fell and had to shimmy to adjust the clothes that got caught beneath her. He laughed, and so did she, and then she was laughing against his lips when he came back to kiss her, just as he'd promised, standing between her knees and pulling her impossibly close. She didn't have to reach so much, not when she had the added height from the table, and he felt so much closer like this. Her legs wrapped around his hips whilst her fingers tugged at the buttons at his collar. He'd already made his way into the top part of her shirt and had taken to kissing and licking her bare neck while she made the most embarrassing sounds. They mingled with the purple steam from the cauldron beside her.

"Draco," she gasped, though she wasn't sure what she wanted to say, or if she wanted to say anything at all.

"Mm?" His mouth to her jaw. She felt his fingers move to her sternum, lower, to between her breasts, where they skimmed the textured flesh of her scar. "Yes?" he breathed against her ear.

"Draco," she breathed, "we have to — we have to take the potion… oh… to Snape…"

He made a sound like a growl but slowed to a stop. "I can't believe you'd make me think about Snape right now."

She laughed, breathless, as he pulled away from her. She felt all wobbly without his hands to hold her up, even though she was still sitting. He brushed a bit of hair from her eyes.

"Are you alright?"

Hermione nodded, a little taken aback by the earnestness in his eyes. "Yes. Yes, I'm fine. I'm — Oh!" She sat up straight. "I meant to tell you! Harry said Slughorn invited both of us to a dinner party this Friday."

Draco blinked, then shook his head with a laugh. "Honestly, should I be worried that while I'm snogging you, you're thinking of Snape and Potter?"

Hermione swatted him and hopped off the table. It was late already, and if they didn't deliver the silver flask to Snape soon, she didn't doubt he would come looking.

Draco hovered behind her, watching her with a smile and offering to support the cauldron while she ladled the Wolfsbane into the flask. They were quiet as they walked through the corridors, and Hermione enjoyed the easiness of his company. That she could just be with him, without having to worry about filling the silence…

Professor Snape evaluated the potion with a peer into the flask and a sniff, then sent them on their way with a wave of his hand.

With a polite wave good-bye, they went their separate ways.


Hermione flicked a bit of lint from her trouser leg. She was glad she'd decided to take the time to change out of her school robes before the Slug Club dinner, since it seemed the others had, too. Well, at least Harry and Cormac had; they were the only members in the Gryffindor common room. Other than Ginny, of course, but all Hermione's pleading had done nothing to persuade Ginny to come.

"I told you, Hermione; I've got plans. I already told Professor Slughorn I won't be there."

"Oh? What did you tell him, if it's not Quidditch? And I know it can't be, because then Harry and Cormac wouldn't be able to come, either."

"O.W.L.s are soon. Flitwick's set a really hard reading for the weekend, and some of us want to go over it together."

"You expect me to believe you're spending Friday revising? Four months in advance?" Hermione squinted. "Who are 'some of us?' Is it Luna?"

Ginny grinned and deliberately looked away. "Maybe."

Hermione groaned. "Fine. Just don't make me dock points if I catch you snogging in the library one day."

"Oh, I never said we'd be in the library."

"No? Where, then? Not the Room of Requirement?"

"Nah, no need. We're both girls. I can just go to her dormitory."

Hermione blinked. "I hadn't thought of that. I don't even know where the Ravenclaw tower is…"

"Maybe I'll show you one day, if Luna allows it, of course. It's really nice, actually. You'd like it."

Hermione imagined the common room in which they sat, but draped in rich blues, bookshelves against the wall as starlight came in through the windows…

"You ready, Hermione?"

Hermione found Harry standing before her, restless. With a long-suffering sigh, she nodded and got to her feet. "Bye, Ginny. Have fun with your revising."

Ginny waved them off with a smile as Hermione followed Harry out the portrait hole. It seemed Cormac had left already.

"You've got the potion, right?"

"Yes, Harry." She fingered the little vial in her pocket, just to make sure. "But I'm not using it unless we absolutely have to. What's your plan? Please tell me you have a plan."

"'Course I do. I'm going to talk to him."

"What, like you did last time?"

Harry shrugged but did not stop walking. "It's different. Now I know exactly what information I need."

"What!" Hermione hissed ferociously, "'Good evening, Professor Slughorn, remember when Tom Riddle asked you about Horcruxes?!'"

"I'm not that stupid, Hermione! What's your idea, then?"

Hermione blew out her frustration in a long breath and came to a slow stop in the corridor. The castle was warmly lit, which made it easy to forget about the winter chill, and the hum of students chatting could be heard from far away. "Look, just… Remember how he feels, Harry. Embarrassed… ashamed…"

"You think I should guilt him until he confesses?"

"I don't know. Just… You're probably the only person in the world who can absolve him. Remember that."

Harry frowned; the flame in the mounted sconce threw odd reflections off his glasses. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that if he views all this" — she gestured to the air around them — "as his fault, you're the person he's hurt the most. For you to tell him that it's okay… that would be an enormously powerful thing, to him. I think."

"It's not his fault his student turned out to be a murderous lunatic."

"No, I'm sure any information he gave him was done with the best of intentions, as a teacher." Probably. At least, I hope so. "But… Look, Harry, I'm really sorry to bring this up, but you went to the Ministry with the best of intentions, and I know you still feel guilty about Sirius — which you shouldn't, by the way —"

Harry worked his jaw and set off walking. "Okay, I get it. I get it."

Hermione jogged to keep up. "I'm sorry, Harry —"

"No, you're right. I get it." Hands shoved in his trouser pockets, Harry walked hastily down the corridor, his shoes smacking the stone floor. His speed was probably justified; Hermione worried they might be running late at this point. "Let's just make sure we get this memory from him, alright? I" — he swallowed — "I don't want to have to keep going to Dumbledore empty-handed. There's not enough time for that. Not anymore."

Hermione nodded solemnly. "You can count on me, Harry." The Veritaserum in her pocket seemed so much heavier than it ought to be, but all hesitancy was gone. She would use it, if need be, and she wouldn't regret it.

When they arrived at Professor Slughorn's office, most of the other students had arrived, but nobody had sat for dinner yet. "I can sit with you," offered Hermione.

"Nah, go sit with Malfoy, like usual. Don't want to draw attention by doing anything different."

"Right…"

Draco had arrived before them, and they took their seats at the table in careful silence as always, though it was odd not to arrive together. It was a rare occasion Slughorn hosted a party outside of the Wolfsbane brewing schedule. But it had been days since they'd last spoken in person, on Monday when they finished the last batch. Sitting beside him in Ancient Runes, or their late-night conversations through the diaries, didn't quite count. She missed his voice, the way he spoke when it was only for her.

Dinner passed in the usual way, despite Hermione's heightened awareness. Harry never mentioned any subject even tangentially related to Tom Riddle or Dark magic, so Hermione quietly ate her dinner and waited for her moment to strike.

It didn't come until after dinner had finished, and the post-meal drinks had begun to wind down. Many of the younger students had left, and Hermione could see several of the older ones were considering it. She stood by the fire, tea in hand (she wouldn't risk muddling her senses with alcohol), a polite distance from Draco, who sipped Firewhisky, and watched Slughorn grow increasingly merry on his favourite sofa.

"Merlin, could you imagine if he and Trelawney got together? Between the two of them, you'd have a whole distillery," muttered Draco. Hermione quietly agreed. May as well add Hagrid, too.

To her right, Draco stiffened, and Hermione tore her gaze away to find Cormac approaching her.

"Ah, McLaggen!" declared Draco with bravado. "How's the skull? I heard you made brilliant use of it to block a Quaffle. Inspiring gameplay. Tell me: is that standard strategy?"

Cormac ground his teeth but otherwise ignored Draco entirely. "Hermione, darling, lovely to see you. I trust you had a lovely evening, pompous pricks aside." Before she could open her mouth, he went on: "If you see Lavender, be a dear and let her know I said hello?"

"Oh — er — sure, Cormac —"

He gave a curt bow and strode out the door.

"Charming fellow," remarked Draco as he swirled his glass. "Now, what on Earth brought Miss Brown to her senses?"

"Apparently, she caught him with a seventh year Ravenclaw." Hermione sighed. "She's not speaking to him."

"Well done, Brown. And they say Ravenclaws are the clever ones…" He knocked back his tumbler.

But with Cormac gone, that left only herself, Harry, Draco and Ernie Macmillan, and Ernie was saying his goodbyes. Hermione moved nearer to Slughorn's sofa and sat herself on the ottoman to his right, near the little table that held his glass of port. A glass Harry had been subtly refilling for the past half-an-hour, Hermione had noticed. Professor Slughorn was quite happily flushed. She wondered if he knew his words had started to run together.

"Yes — yes, 'course — good night! Good night… Ah, yes! Now, who've we got left, eh?" He surveyed the three of them with unfocused eyes. "Malfoy! Why are you so far away? Come. Come! There's a chair here, by Miss Granger…"

Draco tried to protest, but between Professor Slughorn's insistence and Hermione's pleading eyes, he capitulated and pulled over the mentioned chair before Slughorn could injure someone by attempting to summon it magically.

"Very good, yes, very good…" He looked each of them in the eye, or as close as he could. Hermione started to wonder if he was really seeing them at all. "You know, I don't often say this, but you three are my top students. An odd combination, to be sure…" His gaze paused on Draco. "But top of the lot, nevertheless… 's funny how those things work themselves out, iznit?"

"Yes sir," said Harry, eyes steady and earnest.

"And I always try, you know… I always make sure my students — the good ones. I mean, the really, reallyexceptional ones… always make sure they're taken care of…" He frowned, then refocused his gaze from the middle distance to Draco. When he spoke again, it was with great sadness. "Like you, Malfoy. Now, if I were Head of Slytherin still, or you'd been one of mine… This sorry business of your father's… and he was one of mine, you know… though he didn't need any help from me, Lucius, and perhaps that's for the best… I couldn't live with myself, you see, if I'd done it again… But you, Draco… you seem like a good boy… and if it were within my power t-to help you, protect you, even…" He threw up his hands and sat back into the sofa in an undignified slouch. "But alas! Here I am. And it's all going to happen again, isn't it? And there's nothing I can do. No, nothing at all…"

Beside her, Draco sat frozen as though petrified. Hermione looked to Harry with urgency. Now was the time, and they were so close! But if Harry said the wrong thing—

"Professor —"

"Horace, dear boy! Call me Horace. We are friends now, after all."

"Er — right, Horace. The thing is, I think there is something you can do…"

Slughorn squinted at him for a long moment. "What are you going on about, young man? Don't you see? This is my fault. My fault! Oh, if I'd just used my bloody head! You've no idea what he was like… no idea… So young, but I swear, he got in your head… It's no wonder, I think, he was able to do what he did… Why, if I'd been younger, if he'd looked at me like that, I might've picked up my wand for him, too…" He looked at Harry and Hermione thought she saw tears in his eyes. "I've ruined your life, boy… All because I was too stupid to see what was right in front of me. All the signs were there…"

"Yes, but professor — Horace, I can stop him, for good. I just need you to tell me what you told him. When he came to you, asking about — about Horcruxes…"

Slughorn flung himself back into the cushions. "Don't say it! Please, you've no idea what it does to me to think about it!" And then he did begin to cry.

Draco shifted. Hermione's hand shot to his knee, nails digging into the material of his trousers, before he could even try to stand.

"What are you doing?" he demanded in a whisper. "I shouldn't be here for this!"

Hermione shot him a glare, both out of desperation for him to stay and the stony command that he do so. If he left now, it would draw too much attention. And if Slughorn got distracted, he'd never talk about any of this again.

Draco pursed his lips but obediently sat back in his chair, fingers clenched around his empty glass.

Meanwhile, Harry attempted to console the nearly hysterical wizard on the couch. "Professor, please — if you tell me, it will save lives. The damage can be undone…"

But it wasn't working. He looked to Hermione in desperation and she hopped to her feet without second thought. "Let me get you a tea," she said to nobody in particular, and hurried to the pot settled on the table in the corner. "Aguamenti!"

"See? Hermione'll get you some tea, professor…"

Just then, there was a knock on the door. Professor Slughorn didn't notice, but Harry, who had moved to sit next to him and was offering a hanky, looked at Hermione with wide, terrified eyes. Hermione looked back, teapot half-tipped over the cup. How had she not planned for this? What if it was another teacher?

Draco went to the door with long, urgent strides and pulled open the door. "Yes?"

A young, timid voice came from the other side. "Oh! Sorry, Mr Malfoy — sir — I was just — is Professor Slughorn available?"

"What in Merlin's fucking name do you need with a teacher at eleven o'clock on a Friday night?"

"It's just — I was ill Tuesday and he said he would accept my essay by tonight if I came to his office — I have it here, see —"

"Yeah, well, next time you've got late work to hand in, try to get it done before office hours end. Ten points from Hufflepuff for being out past curfew."

"But he said —!"

And he slammed the door in the child's face.

Hermione winced and made a mental note to find out the pupil's name and make sure Professor Slughorn accepted their essay. When he was sober, that is.

By the time the tea was prepared, Draco was back in his seat looking cool as ever, but Hermione could see the agitation in his posture. She shared it; he was never meant to be here for this, but now it was too late for him to leave.

She slipped the vial back into her pocket and went to the sofa where Harry had acquired a third handkerchief for Professor Slughorn, whose sobs had not abated. "Here you are, professor." She set the cup and saucer on the table before them and watched with morbid fascination as he accepted it and drank.

The effect was almost instantaneous. Hermione couldn't say what changed, whether it was the look in his eyes or something about the way he sat, but she knew it had worked.

Harry must've seen it, too. His back straightened as though he were about to do a very solemn thing, and then he asked in a gentle, steady voice, "Professor Slughorn, did you tell Tom Riddle about Horcruxes when he was a student?"

Slughorn nodded. "Yes. I did."

"What did you tell him?"

"Everything he wanted to know. What they are, how to make them…"

"What else did he want to know?"

"If one could make multiple."

"And what did you tell him?"

The tears streamed down Slughorn's cheeks, though he wasn't hysterical anymore; more like he was accepting a sentence. It was awful. "I told him it's never been done, to my knowledge. But in theory… yes."

"Do you know why he asked you these things?"

"At the time, I thought it was academic curiosity. But now that I know what he became, what he's done…"

"Is that why you lied to Professor Dumbledore? Why you fabricated a memory?"

Slughorn nodded. "You've no idea what it's like to live with it, to know I could have stopped him…" He looked to them then, and Hermione saw true clarity in his eyes. Truth. "Please," he whispered. "I don't want to remember. I can't live with it, not now, not anymore."

"Can you give me the memory, professor? The real one. I'll keep it for you."

Slughorn's eyes slid closed as he nodded again. "Yes, yes, alight. Take it. Please…"

When Slughorn didn't do anything, Harry looked to Hermione with pleading eyes.

She'd never taken a memory before, not even her own. When Harry had told her such a thing was possible, she'd looked it up, of course, but it seemed like such a fragile thing. She'd been too afraid to try it on herself.

But if not her, who?

With great care, she crept closer and drew her wand. "Please think very hard, professor. Focus…" He whimpered, but when she placed her wandtip to his temple and drew it away, a fine, silvery substance followed. She dragged it out delicately, until it separated from his head and floated in the air like a feather. She realised suddenly she had nowhere to put it, and had no idea what would happen if it fell onto his clothes, or the ground —

A hand appeared with a small glass vial, not unlike the one in her pocket. She took it with gratitude and guided the silvery thread inside. Draco retreated, this time to the wall by the fireplace where he observed the three of them in silence.

Slughorn, who had let out a sigh of relief and pain as the memory had left his head, now looked up at her with tired eyes. "Please, Miss Granger… I don't want to remember. It's been so long… so many years. I can't do it any longer, can't bear it… Please, don't make me… please…"

She looked to Harry, who looked back at her, both of them equally desperate.

To leave him like this, with knowledge of what they'd done, was too dangerous. She really didn't have a choice. And didn't he deserve that reprieve he wanted so badly? She could see now the pain he'd carried for so long. If she had the power to relieve it, then wasn't she obligated to?

Before she could change her mind, she brought her wand back to his temple. His eyes closed and his head rolled back, like he was awaiting salvation. She hoped this would be enough.

She closed her eyes and cleared her head as best she could. She could do this. She could do this.

She breathed out, long and slow.

"Obliviate."