A/N: If you're enjoying this story, please consider sharing it. Word of mouth is one of the best ways to get a fic out there. Now, onwards to sixth year!
Defence, unsurprisingly, was a complete disaster.
"There's no need to call me sir, professor."
Under any other circumstance, Hermione might have been impressed by the sheer gall of it, but as it was, she was heartily disappointed (not to mention angry) that Harry had managed to get himself a detention in the first lesson of the first day. So much for this year being an improvement!
At least he'd been made Quidditch Captain. Maybe that would help, somehow.
Hermione tried to clear her head of all things related to Harry and dark lords as she unpacked her things for Potions. She was very interested to discover what kind of teacher Slughorn might be. From what she'd heard from those whom he'd accosted on the train, he sounded a bit image-conscious, but hopefully that came with substance — unlike Lockhart, who had turned out to be all looks and little else.
The small class sizes of N.E.W.T. level courses were a pleasant change, at least. Not many people had managed an Outstanding on their Potions O.W.L. Other than herself and Draco, there were barely a dozen students.
That changed, of course, several minutes later when Harry and Ron bashfully stumbled in. Hermione cringed and pretended not to see them.
"Right, yes… Miss Granger, I believe you were going to tell me what is in this little vial?"
"Yes, sir. It's Veritaserum."
"Well done, yes, very good. Five points to Gryffindor. And who can tell me the properties of Veritaserum? Yes — the Hufflepuff in the back — what's your name?"
"Macmillan, sir. Ernie Macmillan. Veritaserum is odorless and tasteless. It looks like water, too, which makes it almost impossible to detect. Consuming it forces one to be truthful."
"Excellent, Mr Macmillan. What a pleasure to have you in class — I taught your uncle and father, you know! Wonderful family. Five points to Hufflepuff."
Hermione eyed the other cauldron on the table: golden, with a pearly potion inside that dissipated in little spirals. The rest of the class seemed to be gravitating towards it, too. She had a hunch, but she needed to get closer to be certain — the thought made her heart inexplicably pound, like her blood had suddenly got hotter…
"Ah, yes, I can see you're all keen for this next one. Who can identify it for me — yes, Miss Granger?"
"Is it Amortentia, sir?"
"It is indeed! And can you tell us the features of this potion, Miss Granger?"
"It is a love potion, sir. One of the most powerful, though it induces more of an infatuation or obsession than real love. It is identified by the mother-of-pearl sheen and the spiralling steam. It is also said to have a smell unique to each individual, based on what attracts them. For example — if I may?" Slughorn gave her an encouraging nod and she stepped closer.
Like her Patronus's form, she'd often wondered what Amortentia would smell like to her. After all, how would one condense love into a scent? What did she love, anyway? Would it smell like her favourite toffee? And what if it was something really awful like — like sweaty socks, or old fish? Could it be possible for the potion to smell like something she hated? Maybe she was doomed to love someone horrible. Or maybe it would smell like nothing at all, and that would mean she didn't know yet, or she was doomed to never love anything at all, like Voldemort.
Nervously, she leaned over the cauldron. For a second, there was nothing, and then the steam swirled around her nose, her eyes fluttered closed, and she knew it could have never been anything else.
It curled into her, warming up all the crevices in her body and filling her with the most tender warmth she'd ever felt. If a Patronus felt like bathing in joy, then this was like drinking passion. She wanted to drown in it.
"Yes, Miss Granger?" prompted Slughorn with a smile.
"I smell… lavender… mint… monkshood… citrus…" She inhaled again, carefully picking out all the notes. "Copper… the sea…"
"A very keen nose you have, Miss Granger! And what a curious collection of aromas — why, lavender and monkshood are two foundations of the famous Wolfsbane Potion! Excellent, ten points to Gryffindor…"
Hermione backed away from the cauldron while her classmates snickered at her. Immediately, she missed the scent, but the warmth didn't fade.
"Well done, everyone, and congratulations to Mr Potter! Excellent, excellent… Oh, Miss Granger! Mr Malfoy! A quick word?"
Harry and Ron gave her sympathetic looks as they left, leaving her alone with Draco and Slughorn.
"Well, I must say I'm impressed by the pair of you. I understand from Professor Snape that you two had a bit of an extracurricular project last year?"
They nodded.
"Lovely! Well, Professor Snape has encouraged me to extend you the same offer, under my supervision, of course." He looked between them, delighted. "Would either of you be interested?"
"Yes," answered Hermione instantly. Lupin needs it! Her heart had moved to somewhere in her throat; she was hyperaware of Draco beside her, stiff and cool as last time.
"Yes, professor, thank you," he murmured softly.
He said yes.
"Excellent! I don't suppose Mr Potter might be interested…?"
"What? No!" cried Hermione. "I mean, he's too busy. Quidditch captain, and all."
"Ah, yes. A pity. He's got the knack for Potions," said Slughorn happily whilst Draco and Hermione stared at him in horror. "A complete natural with a cauldron. I daresay he'll make a fine Master, should he choose to pursue it." Slughorn mourned Harry's lack of interest for a moment longer before remembering the two students before him. "No matter. As the lunar cycle began nearly a full week ago, you'll be continuing Professor Snape's work. Come by this evening — I think five o'clock would be adequate? I'll have it all set up in one of the private labs."
They thanked Professor Slughorn and left in mutual silence.
"He wants you to work on Wolfsbane again? All year?"
"It's not like Lupin suddenly doesn't need it anymore, Ron."
Ron snickered. "Right, and we all know how much you want to make him happy —"
"Would you stop it? Just because Amortentia smells like that to me does not mean I'm in love with Lupin!"
"Alright, but I still don't understand why Malfoy has to do it with you."
With a shrug, Hermione airily replied, "He's good at Potions."
Ron chuckled darkly and nudged Harry. "You're lucky he didn't ask you, now that you're top of the class."
"About that." Hermione turned on Harry with a glare. He tried to avoid her eyes and paid rapt attention to his wand twirling between his fingers. "You should show Slughorn the book, Harry. It's basically plagiarism if you try and pass off that work as your own —"
"Oi! He's just reading the textbook. Since when is that a crime?"
"But it's not the textbook, Ron! It's someone else's original ideas, probably earned over a lot of time and hard work. You know Harry wouldn't have done so well if he'd been following the same instructions as the rest of us!"
"You're just sore that he did better than you —"
"Ron —" Harry interjected.
"No. I'm done here." She stood, trying to reign in her temper before she got caught in another petty argument with the two of them that went nowhere. "Accio dragonhide gloves!"
"Where are you going?"
"Brewing, Ron, or weren't you paying attention?"
"What — he's not having you start tonight, is he?" Hermione raised her eyebrows. "I forgot how much bloody time that potion needs," grumbled Ron, and Hermione was forced to agree.
The castle was full of the merry chatter that September often brought. Friends who hadn't seen each other since June laughed happily as they walked back from the Great Hall and Hermione felt a bit bitter about all of it. She'd been a bit of a nervous mess since Slughorn had told them they'd continue their private brewing, and she wasn't sure how to approach this. From what she'd seen so far, Draco seemed determined to be as cold and distant as he'd been at the end of last term.
Could she tolerate spending hours in his company every week if he was going to pretend she didn't exist? It had to be an improvement from how he'd treated her before, but she was already half-mad from his behaviour. A full term of it might break her.
She held her breath, steeling herself before she knocked on the door. It opened at Slughorn's "Enter!" and she found herself in a small, narrow rectangular room, not even a quarter the size of Gryffindor's common room.
"Come in, come in! Mr Malfoy hasn't joined us yet, but it's quite alright. I've nearly finished setting up. I hope this room will work for you?"
"Oh, yes, thank you…" answered Hermione softly as she carefully hung her bag on the hook by the door and took in the empty bookcases lining the opposite wall.
"Good, good. You know, Hogwarts has plenty of little labs like this designed for all manner of magical training. It's a shame the school isn't equipped for that kind of specialised education anymore."
"Yes, it is…"
Hermione jumped as a rough knock sounded right next to her head. Slughorn looked up from the large vial he was situating on the benchtop. "Do open the door, Miss Granger — ah, good evening, Mr Malfoy!"
Draco stopped short at the sight of the room and Hermione so close to him. She thought she saw him flinch. "Sorry I'm late, professor —"
"Oh, no worries at all! Put your bag down, and we'll get started."
Hermione leapt out of Draco's way and instead lingered by Slughorn; he needed help lifting a deer hide onto the table.
"Yes, well, that should be everything you'll need for tonight. There's an ingredient cupboard just in there that you are welcome to peruse when you need it. I did request everything be well stocked, but if you find yourselves lacking anything, my office is just a few doors away. Now, if you'll apply your Bubble-Head Charms, I'll go and fetch the cauldron..."
He disappeared through the door, leaving them in total silence save for muttered incantations of the requisite charm. After a moment, Slughorn returned, his own head in a bubble, the heavy cauldron awkwardly gripped in his thick fingers. The unfinished potion sloshed around inside as he brought it to the workbench, Hermione noted with alarm, and she felt Draco relax in similar relief when he set the silver monstrosity down without incident.
From then on, it was like it had always been. They took up their task without words and Hermione was surprised to find that, though she'd laid out her notes and the recipe beforehand, she remembered most of it quite well. Professor Slughorn offered occasional praise of their stirring technique or the precision with which they prepared the Moonwater solution, but otherwise didn't interfere. After what could be no more than fifteen minutes, he clapped his hands together with a "Well, I daresay Belby himself would be impressed by the two of you! I taught him, you know; he was one of my most brilliant students. I imagine he would take a liking to you two, seeing as you have that in common! Well, I shan't get in your way, then. If you need anything, please don't hesitate to shout!" and left the room.
Hermione watched him go, mouth agape, with the shaving blade still in her hand. "Is he mad?" she wondered aloud.
"Idiot," agreed Draco softly.
He didn't say anything more, and neither did she. The room settled into silence, though whether it was a comfortable one or not, Hermione couldn't say. She focused on carefully shaving the deer hide and gathering all the hairs into the silver dish. Draco did the same beside her, strategically moving across the hide until they met in the middle and the thing was bare.
She wanted to say something. Anything. Remark on how Slughorn's negligence could lead to their both being poisoned. Ask about his summer — no, bad idea. No way that would end well.
So, she bit her tongue and let the silence stay as they swept the final deer hairs into the dish and measured the correct amount of Moonwater to add to it.
Without any further instruction from Slughorn on what to do when they'd finished, they took their bags off the hooks and stepped into the corridor. Hermione heard the lock click behind them. With the Bubble-Head Charm gone, Hermione breathed deeply. Draco brushed off his robes and fixed his prefect badge, which had somehow got caught on the strap of his bag.
"Good night," she said.
He didn't say anything, not that she'd expected him to. He didn't even look at her. But he did nod, a short jerk of his head, before he strode off.
Hermione walked back to Gryffindor Tower feeling lighter.