Classes on Friday passed in a blur. Hermione was barely aware of them; she'd skipped breakfast to go to the library to look for beginner's books on Alchemy, and she'd spelled the covers to mimic her class texts. She didn't remember a word said in DADA or History class, and she was grateful that they were still on the indefinite transfigurations in McGonagall's class – she was able to shape her lump of silver with only slight difficulty and read the rest of the class.

By the end of the day, though, it was clear: Hermione was massively out of her depth.

There was just so much to Alchemy. The magical theory behind it was immensely complex, involving Ancient Runes, Arithmancy arrangements, Transfiguration, and other niche fields Hermione knew little to nothing about – Evocation, Transmutation – and others Hermione had never heard of – Transmogrification, Thermobiomancy, and Quantumancy. There was no way for Hermione to suddenly become a magical genius and expert in Alchemy in two and a half months. There was simply no way.

It was frustrating to realize she wouldn't be able to learn enough to figure it out herself. Coupled with the crushing panic of being blackmailed constantly lurking in the back of her mind, it took everything Hermione had to not have a complete mental break down.

Still. Hermione wasn't stupid. She knew if she wouldn't be able to figure it out herself, she would need someone else to help her.

And so after dinner, Hermione pulled Blaise aside into an old Charms classroom. Blaise went along amicably, though he raised a curious eyebrow when Hermione locked the door and enchanted it with a Keep-Away charm.

"Fancy," Blaise commented. "I didn't think we'd learned that one yet." He looked at Hermione patiently, sitting on a desk to dangle his legs. "So. What's up?"

Hermione hopped up on another desk to face him. She took a deep breath.

"You're my official blackmail advisor, right?" she asked.

Blaise's face split into a grin.

"I am," he assured her.

"Well," Hermione said, keeping her voice steady, "I'm being blackmailed."

Blaise's jaw dropped, and Hermione winced. His eyes grew large, and his voice immediately lowered to a hush.

"You're being blackmailed?" he asked, his voice urgent. "By who? For what? What's going on?"

"By who and with what isn't relevant," Hermione said. "The issue is what they want."

"It is very much relevant, and we'll come back to that," Blaise said, rolling his eyes. "But fine – what do they want?"

Hermione swallowed hard. "The Elixir of Life."

There was a long pause.

"You're joking," Blaise said, his voice low.

"No," said Hermione. "I'm not."

Blaise swallowed. "Oh."

Hermione watched as something inside Blaise seemed to shift. His astonishment and surprise seemed to morph. He sat up a little straighter, his eyes becoming sharp, methodical, thoughtful. When he spoke, even his voice was slightly different – slower, more thoughtful, with fewer inflections.

"So," Blaise said, his voice not betraying the seriousness of the matter. "A mysterious person knows you have the Philosopher's Stone, and they are now blackmailing you for the Elixir of Life."

"They're not blackmailing me over me having the Stone," Hermione corrected. "That's just what I have to use to get the Elixir."

Blaise tilted his head, considering. "How did they know you have the Stone?"

"They said they caught a goblin buying a lot of lead bars twice," Hermione said, making a face.

Skepticism flickered over Blaise's face, but his eyes remained intent and focused. It was odd, to see him so expressionless. It was as if he'd put on a mask, Hermione thought, to hide all his genuine emotions and expressions - a mask made of his own face.

"I'm surprised the goblins would be so sloppy," Blaise commented. He looked at her sideways. "No one usually pays attention to what they do, anyway."

"I was also seen carrying a gold bar through Diagon Alley," Hermione said dully. "I thought I had hidden it in my robes pretty well, but... well. It was really heavy, and I probably got sloppy with it after a while of struggling."

"So... the blackmail material is some other secret," Blaise summarized. "They're only blackmailing you into using the Philosopher's Stone to get the Elixir of Life."

"And I have to give it to them," Hermione added. "Their blackmail material… I can't let it get out. Ever."

"And we're forced to capitulate to their demands." Blaise raised an eyebrow. "I'm presuming poisoning is out of the question?"

Hermione's mouth dropped.

"I don't want to kill them!" she said, horrified.

"Why not?" Blaise asked. "They're blackmailing you."

Hermione goggled at him, mouth hanging open. Blaise waited patiently, blinking, only continuing when he was sure no further rebuttal was coming.

"It would nicely resolve the issue of someone having blackmail material on you," he pointed out. "As well as removing the threat of having someone left alive who knows whatever secret it is. There's no guarantee this person wouldn't continue to blackmail you once you handed the Elixir over."

"The deal is to trade the Elixir for the proof," Hermione said, wetting her lips. "So… even after, then, if they claimed—they wouldn't be able to prove—"

"Ah. Well, that works." Blaise pulled a leg up on the desk, drumming his fingers on his knee as he considered. "If 'handling' the blackmailer is out of the question... we have to figure out how to get them the Elixir of Life."

"Yes." Hermione winced. "And—I've already looked, Blaise, and Alchemy—it's nearly incomprehensible, it's so difficult, and the time I'd need to study enough—"

"No one expects you to learn a field of magic that takes wizards decades of study to become merely proficient in," Blaise told her, cutting her off. "That's unrealistic, even for your genius."

Hermione ignored his teasing.

"Then what else am I going to do, Blaise?" she worried. "The only other person I know of who knows Alchemy is Dumbledore, and I can't very well go to him!"

"Agreed," Blaise said dryly. He folded his arms, pondering hard. "And I trust using the stone isn't intuitive for this?"

"Not that I can figure," Hermione said miserably. "Doing gold is easy – you just put it on top of the lead and tell it to make gold, according to the goblins. I've got no idea what to do for the Elixir."

Blaise heaved a sigh.

"How long do we have?" he asked. "When do you need to have the Elixir?"

"By Midsummer," Hermione said. "In ten weeks."

Blaise whistled.

"That's soon," he said. "Really soon. We won't even be out of school yet, what with them pushing the end of the school year back because of the House Elves."

"I know," Hermione said, wringing her hands. "What do I do?"

Blaise gave her a look.

"Well, first, get the stone here," he said. "Then we'll figure out how to make the Elixir of Life, one way or another."

"But what if we can't?" Hermione fretted. "What if it's too hard, Blaise? What if we can't figure it out?"

"Hermione—" Blaise cut himself off, shaking his head. He stood instead, coming over to stand directly in front of her. "Hermione. Look at me."

Hermione looked up at him, biting her bottom lip. He was looking directly at her, his gaze holding hers. Blaise's eyes held a certainty hers did not, and as he gently laid a hand on her upper arm, she took a slow, shaky breath.

"Whatever it is, we'll figure it out," he told her quietly. "It might not be fine now, Hermione, but it will be fine. We'll handle it. I promise."

Hermione nodded shakily, and Blaise sighed, pulling her into his arms for a hug. Hermione was surprised for only a moment before hugging him back tightly, burying her face into his robes.

"You're not usually the one who's scared," he murmured, stroking her back. "It's unusual to see you like this."

"I'm not usually being blackmailed either," Hermione shot back, her voice muffled, and she could feel Blaise's laughter in his chest.

"True," Blaise mused, gently weaving a hand into her hair. "Still. It'll be alright, Hermione. We'll come out on top. I've got a few ideas."

Hermione seriously doubted whatever idea Blaise had would be sufficient to dig her out of this hole, but she didn't want to fight. Instead, she burrowed deeper into his robes, soaking in the reassurance and gentle comfort of his hands playing with her curls.

"It'll be alright," he promised her, his voice soft. "We'll figure it out. I promise you – I'll make sure by the end, it's all okay."