Patience Is A Virtue

Looking at himself in the mirror as Harry brushed his teeth the following morning, he knew his appearance was a disaster. Yet he had little time to rectify, having not left himself a lot of time to get himself downstairs for breakfast. He was the last to leave, glad at least that he dodged an awkward encounter with Ron due to waking up late. He splashed cold water in his face to wake himself up. It helped a little, helping to clear his thoughts. Making his way back into the dormitory, he fetched his bag. Off he went to start another day that would no doubt be fraught with all the dramas that he seemed to be gathering like an unwilling collector.

After he and Hermione had calmed down from their confrontation with Ron, Harry soon found himself sharing with her everything that transpired in Dumbledore's office. He told her everything Dumbledore showed him in the pensieve. It didn't take too long to relate back the short memory that Dumbledore retrieved from Morfin Gaunt and then the perplexing memory of Slughorn's. He shared with her the task he was meant to perform, an impossible task of somehow convincing Slughorn to give him the original memory, untampered. And then there was the potential meeting with the Minister of Magic that was inevitably on the horizon.

By the time he'd gone to bed, he felt as if he quite literally couldn't deal with any more stress. Exhausted, sleep at least came to him quickly. So quickly, he didn't have the chance to set an alarm charm.

As he emerged in the Common Room, he wasn't surprised to find it empty. He sped up, rushing his way out of the portrait hole. He made full use of every short-cut. By the time he made it to the Great Hall, he had only a few minutes before the morning bell. Every set of eyes found him the moment he showed up late, voices buzzing at once at his presence. Angling his head down from the stares, he fixed his focus instead on a head framed with wild curls that he immediately sought out. Hermione's greeting was a scowl and an exasperated sigh as she moved her bag from where she saved him a seat. She'd laid his plate for him.

"Before you even suggest it, don't do it today," Hermione said out of the corner of her mouth after a few moments when his late appearance no longer had the attention of the hall. Harry had just crammed a large mouthful of sausage in his mouth. He painstakingly chewed to clear his mouth quickly to ask her what she was on about. He stared at her, trying to fathom it out before he had full use of his voice.

"Do what?"

Hermione leaned closer, her gaze flickering out up to the staff table. He followed her gaze. Her attention was upon Slughorn.

"We need to think of a strategy first." She said under her breath. Harry was barely catching up with her, gawping blankly at the Professor before it came to him that she was talking about the memory that he was tasked with fetching. "You need to be very careful about how you approach him."

Harry rubbed at his nose under his glasses, a headache already forming.

"Right," he said, his insides twisting with dread. His gaze travelled down the line of teachers to the centre where Dumbledore should be. As was too common, it was empty. He sighed, stabbing his sausage with pent up frustration. He'd left Dumbledore's office the night before feeling as if he was drowning under the weight of his burdens.

All the fretting he'd been doing about their personal dramas, he'd lost sight of just exactly who he was. Outside of the growing pains and all the confusing, powerful emotions that were driving him mad, he was facing something very real and very terrifying. His very life was on the line and if he didn't get his head straight, he wasn't going to live long enough to experience adulthood. In fact, if he didn't get his head together, all their lives were on the line.

That included Hermione's life too.

Nausea clawed up from his gut and he clamped his hand down over his mouth. Alarmed, he drew in a deep breath before he lost the breakfast he'd been shovelling down in a hurry.

"Harry?" Hermione whispered, concerned, sensing at once that something was wrong. He just shook his head in response, reaching for his pumpkin juice. He took a few small sips, settling his stomach. His appetite had vanished at once.

Her hand was on his arm, rubbing up and down comfortingly. He peered across at her, setting his cutlery down.

"Well, Dumbledore seems to think I can somehow persuade him," he said quietly to her, his voice almost lost to the general din of the Hall. "Maybe if I speak to him alone or…?"

"I don't think that's going to work. This is more than just asking for a favour or… for career advice," Hermione said, waving a hand airly as she then leaned in closer. Enough to very much distract him from his sudden anxiety. "You are going to really need to butter him up first."

Deeply uncomfortable, Harry pushed his plate away, stomach churning. He knew she was right. He hadn't exactly paid much thought as to how exactly Dumbledore expected him to get the memory.

"Maybe if I do really well in Potions or… impress him with something," Harry said, glancing down to his bag where a particular copy of Advanced Potion Making was a cause of contention between him and Hermione.

"You can't just spring this on him after class," Hermione then said with a roll of her eyes. "We're talking about really advanced Dark Magic-."

Harry straightened up, hushing her at once, glancing around the table in alarm. Hermione's jaw clenched in response, understanding. He rested a hand on her arm, looking deep into her eyes.

"Alright. I hear you," he said quickly, "and I think we, you know, should speak about this privately."

Hermione bit her lip a little, appearing sheepish as she nodded in agreement. Their heads parted where they were muttering conspiratorially. Naturally, their little private discussion had caught notice even if no one had managed to overhear them. Harry's searching gaze immediately spotted where Ron was sitting. He swallowed as a stab of unwanted guilt plagued him. The last time he'd seen his former best friend, Harry had reduced him to tears.

Pointedly, Hermione went to leave. Harry mirrored her, grabbing his bag. They weren't alone as the Hall started to properly empty out before the first class began. Side-by-side, they joined the gathering throng as other students spilled out into the Entrance Hall. Hermione's hand found his the moment they were in the clear, her pace quickening to cut through the ambling, slow cluster of students in their way.

Whenever they got the opportunity during their lessons and between walks to each class, they whispered their plans, sharing ideas. Yet very quickly, other stresses started to present themselves. Concentrating seemed outside the realm of possibility. And then there was the mystery word itself that Dumbledore had sprung upon him. He went over it again and again, trying to glean some spark of inspiration. Each time he or Hermione whispered it, it sounded just as mysterious and unfamiliar as it was the first time he heard it.

Horcruxes.

Whatever it was, whatever Tom Riddle had dared to ask his favourite teacher all those years ago, it had to be something terrible. As Hermione said, it must be advanced Dark Magic, the sort that they definitely weren't going to find laying around in a book. Though he knew Hermione would try her utmost to research the entire library to find any mention of the word.

After lunch, Harry's headache had developed into a full-blown throbbing torment. He massaged his temples on the way down to the dungeons for Potions.

"Let's just get a feel for things," Hermione suggested as they came to queue outside the classroom. She then grasped Harry's arm, pulling him to a sudden stop before they joined their classmates. "Though… I do think you're right."

Harry eyed her, confused.

"I am? About what?"

She glanced at his bag, mouth flattening into a grim line as her nostrils flared a little in dislike and distrust. Baffled at her reaction and why his bag was causing it, he shifted the strap higher up his shoulder. As his hand touched the cloth, he understood what she was relating to.

"Ah," he said, "you want me to use the book?"

Hermione visibly stiffened as he mentioned the source of contention between them. While he had resolved to stick to the 'official' material and not the Half-Blood Prince's notes, he knew Hermione was still deeply suspicious and resentful towards the mysterious potioneer. Harry schooled his expression, doing his best to not show his amusement. For Hermione to agree to use the book, she was also agreeing that the Prince had superior knowledge in the subject.

"You need every edge you can get," she then said, meeting his eyes. His amusement dwindled. The door to the Potion's classroom opened. Harry automatically turned to follow the rest before he could get swept under the spiralling stress. He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment to mentally collect himself. He opened his eyes, drawing a steadying breath as he made his way to the front of the classroom. He kept his focus fixed on the task ahead, not sparing a look over at his classmates as he made a beeline for his seat at the desk with Hermione. She watched him with an air of concern. He went to speak but Slughorn's call for silence had him firmly closing his mouth. He offered her what he hoped was a reassuring smile as he sat on his stool.

"Settle down, please!" Slughorn was insisting as the others took their time getting inside. "Lots of work to get through this afternoon. Golphalott's Third Law… who can tell me-? But Miss Granger can, of course!"

Harry froze mid grasp of his book, inwardly cursing. Of course, of all the lessons where he needed to stand out, it had to be one about Potion theory. And one that he didn't recognise in the slightest. As he straightened, Hermione was already answering the question. With her impeccable memory, she recited the law without a hitch.

"Golphalott's Third Law states that the antidote for a blended poison will be equal to more than the sum of the antidotes for each of the separate components."

Harry stared at her with a frazzled mixture of alarm and awe. Her words had gone right over his head. She had clearly been right as Slughorn clapped his hands together, beaming at her. She caught Harry's eye, giving him a slightly rueful look.

"Precisely! Ten points for Gryffindor!"

Turning his attention back to Slughorn, Harry tried his hardest to listen and concentrate. It was almost as if Slughorn was speaking in mermish. Hermione was fiercely note-taking at his side.

"...assuming we have achieved correct identification of the potion's ingredients by Scarpin's Revelaspell, our primary aim is not the relatively simple one of selecting antidotes to those ingredients in and of themselves, but to find that added component that will, by an almost alchemical process, transform these disparate elements. You will be effectively creating these antidotes from scratch using only what you discover from the poisons I have blended for each of you and so I want each of you to come and take one of these phials from my desk."

At that, Harry blinked, focusing on the arranged phials presented at the front of Slughorn's desk. Each a different colour and shape without anything else to determine what potion was contained within them.

"You are to create an antidote for the poison within it before the end of the lesson. Good luck and don't forget your protective gloves!"

Hermione had risen from her stool, setting down her quill. Harry barely registered that Slughorn had given them leave to start. He sat up a little straighter, busying himself with opening his copy of Advanced Potion Making, quickly turning to the chapter about antidotes. He found the page about Golpalott's Third Law but it was one of very few pages that didn't have the Prince's hand scribbled in the margins. He knew it had been wishful thinking. Clearly the Prince was an expert in Potions and understood the theory without difficulty. Harry then got to his feet, joining Hermione and the others in fetching a poison from the desk.

He tried to avoid Slughorn's gaze, feeling his attention. The last thing he needed was for the Professor to ask him a question about the lesson's objectives. Hurriedly, he snatched the closest phial and slipped back to his desk. He uncorked the poison, tipping the contents into his cauldron before really thinking about what he was doing. He stared down at the garish pink liquid sitting in his pewter cauldron.

Curiously, he peeked over his shoulder. He caught the shrewd glances over his and Hermione's way. The typical practice of potions was unfolding as those less sure started to copy the more confident brewers in the class. He caught Ron's eye and quickly looked away, clearing his throat.

"I, um, missed a bit of what we're supposed to do," Harry said out of the corner of his mouth to Hermione, leaning closer to her so he wasn't overheard.

"We need to make an antidote for our poisons using Golpalott's Third Law as a basis."

"So… how do we do that?" Harry said, feeling even more stupid as he glanced down at his book.

"Identify each ingredient of your poison first and write them down," she told him with more patience than she would have done so in the past when explaining things to him that he probably should know himself, "then find their antidotes along with a component that can transform the properties into the chosen state."

"Ok…" Harry said, staring dumbly down at his cauldron. Hermione let out a small sigh.

"Light your cauldron, Harry," Hermione then assisted. Harry gratefully nodded, following her instruction and taking his wand to light the burner underneath his cauldron. "Use Scarpin's Revelaspell… it's Specialis Revelio …"

Relief flooded him and he looked over at Hermione, so grateful for her help. He then spotted Slughorn starting his first lap around the classroom. As much as he wanted to ask Hermione for more help, he knew that he had to show some independent thought. It didn't help that they both had different poisons to work with. Hermione's was an ominous black, already bubbling sinisterly in her cauldron. She gave him a sympathetic smile and went to wave her wand over the poison, casting the revelaspell non-verbally.

While he was very used to being outshined in her presence, it was the one time that he needed to have some of that brilliance himself. He waved his own wand over the pink poison, muttering " specialis revelio" under his breath. He wasn't expecting it to work and blinked in surprise when words formed in the vapours of the poison.

Oleander, puffskein tongue…

Hastily, Harry went to grab some parchment and his quill, remembering what Hermione said about writing down the ingredients. He missed the rest of the words forming from his spell as he went to write them. Slughorn then reached their desk.

"Excellent, excellent… onto a good start here, Miss Granger. As expected, of course." He said cheerily as he swooped over to inspect Hermione's flawless spellwork and note taking. He then came over to Harry.

"I would advise you to put on your gloves however, Harry."

"Yes, sir," Harry said automatically before realising that he'd been handling a poison without gloves.

Idiot.

After he'd dived into his bag to grab his dragonhide gloves, Slughorn had already moved on. He could tell that he'd gone as deep a shade of pink as his poison as he pulled the gloves. Hermione was too engrossed in her work to notice, having already transcribed all her ingredients. She, of course, had put on her gloves. Only Harry was too dense to miss the key instruction and nearly poison himself.

What an embarrassing way to go, he thought to himself, Harry Potter… killed by a potions accident…

It would save Voldemort the trouble.

No longer in danger of hastening his end, Harry went back to work. When he finished writing down all the ingredients that he managed to identify, he stared blankly at them for a moment before going to consult his book. Glancing over at Hermione, he could see her annotating her list already. Knowing her, she knew all the antidotes without having to check. Feeling another wave of embarrassment, Harry considered his list again.

Frowning, he flicked through his book, until he came across a note written in one of the margins.

Just shove a bezoar down their throats.

His frown smoothed out and he smiled. That at least saved him some time finding something that countered each and every component in his poison. He could recall exactly when he first heard of a bezoar when Snape humiliated him during their very first potions lesson, quizzing him on facts that he had absolutely no clue about.

A stone taken from the stomach of a goat, which will protect from most poisons…

But then he frowned again. He was meant to brew an antidote, not just give one ingredient as the solution. It didn't exactly help him with the task at hand. He wondered then why someone would go to the effort of brewing an antidote in the first place if there was already something powerful enough to cure most poisons.

Glumly, he set about trying to work out the antidotes to each component in his poison. Meanwhile, Hermione had left her station to fetch her ingredients. Harry didn't look over at her notes. They were working on separate poisons. The answer wasn't there.

Resigned to the fact that he would have to really use his brain, Harry made a start on listing the antidotes. Fortunately, his poison only had five components and therefore five antidotes to decipher. Harry managed to find each of them by the time Slughorn then returned. He was midway through writing out his method while Hermione had already gone to fetch her ingredients in the supplies cupboard.

"You have half the lesson left, m'boy. You'll need to start brewing if you want to have anything done at the end."

Slughorn then gave him a strange look, almost expectant. He appeared to be waiting for something. Harry looked between his book, his rather messily written antidote method and his cauldron, trying to figure out what Slughorn was after.

Out of nowhere, Harry suddenly thought of the memory he viewed the night before. He could see in his mind's eye a younger Slughorn with that same expectant expression. He'd seen it just before the strange fog had flooded the tampered memory and interrupted the conversation between the Potions Professor and his former student, Tom Riddle.

"Sir, I wanted to ask you something."

"Ask away, then, m'boy, ask away…"

Harry sat up a little straighter, understanding what Slughorn was waiting for. It wasn't something that came naturally to Harry, but he went for it.

"I have the antidotes, but what I'm struggling with is the right alchemical base. This isn't going to work without it, but I can't see what I'm missing," Harry said, presenting his method over to Slughorn where he had indeed been trying to work out how to bind his antidote together.

"What am I missing, sir?" Harry then asked. Slughorn's moustache twitched, his eyes lighting up. He'd been right. Slughorn had been waiting for him to ask for his help. He then moved around to stand between his station and Hermione's. He leaned over Harry's workings out with close scrutiny, making Harry very self-conscious about his sloppy handwriting.

"Ah - yes. I see where you are getting stuck, m'boy. You have been looking for just one element that will bind all five of your separate components together. You've been restricting your search, finding a single element to compliment all the properties of your active ingredients. Remember Golphalott's Third Law, Harry. The antidote to a blended poison has equal-to- more than the components of the poison. You can have as many binding ingredients as you desire as long as the antidotes achieve their desired effect."

Harry blinked. To his astonishment, he actually understood what Slughorn was telling him.

"I've been making this harder for myself?" Harry asked, stunned. Slughorn chuckled.

"Indeed, you have been. While you could find an alchemical base that works for all five antidotes, it would be risky. You are far better off choosing a base for each. It would be safer this way."

"I see," Harry said and he actually did. "Thank you, sir. I probably would still be stuck here without an antidote and just a bezoar on my desk at the end of the lesson otherwise."

Slughorn's eyes then gleamed again as he chuckled heartily. "A bezoar? Well… you wouldn't be wrong. A bezoar would indeed act as a sufficient antidote for all the poisons that we are working on today. However, much like phoenix tears, they are incredibly rare so you are better off learning how to create antidotes using the theory."

Harry glanced quickly at the book propped up on the stand at his desk quickly. Slughorn then gave Harry a pat on his back, nodding fondly at him.

"I would have appreciated the cheek nonetheless," he then said with a small wink. "And between us, I do have a supply of bezoars. No such luck on the phoenix tears, however." He scowled for a second before refocusing on Harry. He smiled warmly again. "Get a start on your antidote, Harry. You have everything you need now, yes?"

He then left Harry at his desk, feeling very pleased with himself that he managed to turn the situation around albeit with help. He rose from his stool, glancing over his shoulder as he did. He was unsurprised to see the ire coming from several directions at the obvious favouritism. He quickly jotted down the bases he would need for the different antidotes he cobbled together on his method sheet. Hermione returned, unloading her arm full of ingredients.

"Everything alright?" She whispered at him, making him jump where he'd been absorbed in his sudden inspiration.

"I think so. I… actually think I have this," Harry said, genuinely surprised as he studied his very disordered scribbles. "I'm not sure I can get it done by the end of the lesson though."

"Me neither," Hermione bit out urgently, "but I think we're being tested on our knowledge of the theory more than the success of our potions. Harry, you really should start though. I'll empty your cauldron for you while you get your supplies."

Not wanting to be caught too short after getting help from Slughorn, Harry didn't delay in making his way to the supplies cupboard. Stress raged its head again upon noticing that he was one of the last students to get their ingredients. The plus side was that he didn't have to cram himself in the tight space among the throng to grab what he needed. When he entered the cupboard however, he wished he'd been the last. He hesitated a second before stepping into the cupboard with Malfoy.

At his arrival, Malfoy's head snapped around, eyes wild for a moment before narrowing in familiar hate. The look made Harry grit his teeth together but he said nothing as he went to the opposite side. As he reached for the jar of salamander eggs, he was surprised to hear Malfoy leave without saying a single scathing insult. Harry frowned, glancing over to see him slip out. It had been very noticeable that Malfoy had been avoiding being alone with him, especially since Katie Bell was cursed. Harry had his suspicions that his accusations had somehow reached Malfoy's ears. He was still certain that Malfoy was following his father's footsteps but without evidence, he was stuck with just his word. If the year before taught Harry anything, it was that his word simply wasn't enough.

Doing his best to not get distracted, Harry collected his ingredients for his first antidote, bringing them over to his desk. Unsurprisingly, Hermione was already mid-way through brewing her concoction. Her side of the desk was cluttered. He wondered wildly at the number of ingredients she'd amassed, including what looked to be a lock of her own hair. He could sense her stress radiating off.

"Thanks for cleaning out my cauldron," he said as he set up. Hermione nodded in response, distracted.

Conscious of running out of time, Harry didn't waste any more as he grinded up his salamander eggs and poured in leech juice into the mortar. Hurriedly he boiled his base, setting it to simmer as he cut up the puffskien tongue. Behind them, a loud crack announced the first potion failure of the lesson. A rotten egg smell filled the classroom. Glancing over, Harry grimaced as he saw a thick dark-green plume of smoke gust up from Ron's cauldron. Ernie was doubled over next to him, looking very sick and ashen as he inhaled the fumes. Slughorn arrived, his wand at the ready as he dealt with the toxic fumes.

"Not to worry, boys. Why don't you sit down for a few moments, Mr Macmillan?"

Some stirrings of guilt came to the fore as Harry returned to his potion. Had this been only a few weeks ago, Ron would have been receiving the same amount of help as Harry was from Hermione.

You use Hermione for her help and her smarts.

He gritted his teeth as Ron's hateful words came to assault him very unhelpfully. Harry hunched his shoulders up as he chopped away, trying to keep focused. Distractions were the cause of most potion incidents. With the chief distraction no longer swooping down on Harry at every opportunity to hiss insults and criticisms, Harry was free to actually have some success in the classroom… with help.

He decanted his first antidote component, rushed to start the second. He risked a look around the classroom, eyeing the others' progress. To his satisfaction, most hadn't made much progress having been stuck still on identifying the poisons. A glimpse over the Slytherin desk, he saw only Malfoy had started brewing. Blaise Zambini appeared to have set something on fire, consequentially giving up after extinguishing it and he simply sat, bored at his desk, looking at his nails. By the time Harry was midway through his second brew, Slughorn clapped his hands loudly at the front of the class.

"Time's up!" He jovially called, moustache trembling. "Well, let's see how you've done."

He assessed the Slytherin's first. Harry scowled as he dished out a compliment for Malfoy's 'decent start'. Slughorn sympathised with Blaise's incident and said nothing on his lack of progress, his nepotism not just on display for Harry's benefit. Blaise smirked behind Slughorn when his back was turned, looking very pleased with himself. Ernie and Ron weren't as lucky as Slughorn had to hurry off as he nearly retched at the state of Ron's potion.

His face was flushed under his moustache when he reached Harry and Hermione last.

"My, my, Miss Granger, this was certainly ambitious," Slughorn said fondly as he came to assess her progress first. Her thick potion, looking rather unappetizing like lumpy gravy, bubbled sluggishly. "A pity that you ran out of time. Had this reduced to the correct viscosity, I daresay it would have worked as an adequate antidote. I see you identified the rather sneaky addition of a hair-loss potion… well done. Ten points to Gryffindor for a good attempt and excellent grasp of theory."

Hermione's face shone with the praise under the glow of sweat. Harry smiled at her, stoked for her success. She caught his eye and her cheeks immediately darkened, flushing at his appraisal. As Slughorn moved between them, they both pointedly looked away from each other.

"And Harry, what have you got to show me?"

"Um… I didn't finish," Harry admitted.

"Understandable. I would have been incredibly impressed if any of you had managed to brew a full antidote within the lesson time without following direct instructions. That being said, those of you who managed to grasp the theory and manage to make your own potion recipes, well done indeed. As a reward, Mr Malfoy, Miss Granger and Mr Potter will be exempt from homework."

Harry rocked back on his heels, actually surprised in himself. The rest of the class muttered darkly as they were given the assignment of writing up assignments about Golphalott's Third Law and how to use it. Harry didn't care. He hadn't needed guidance from the Half-Blood Prince at all! Somehow, he actually did well.

"Time to pack up," Slughorn then announced.

Hermione's hand grasped Harry's wrist, tugging him towards her. Her arm then went around his waist, startling him.

"Sorry for earlier," she whispered in his ear, "I thought if I left you alone at the desk, he'd approach you and… I was right."

Harry gazed up at her in surprise, trying to work out what she was talking about. Then he realised that when Slughorn had come over to check on his progress, Hermione had been measuring and collecting her ingredients. It made him feel uncomfortable at how well it worked.

"You should thank him," she then muttered in his ear as she carried on with the guise of clearing their desk away, her words concealed over the general din of all the students tidying their desks and cauldrons. "For his help."

Harry listened as he used his wand to vanish the residue of his ingredients from his desk, glancing up. The bell then rang, giving him no extra time to gain any more ideas from Hermione on how to make use of his classroom success. She bit her lip, then nodded over to the front of the classroom where Slughorn had gone to his desk. As the others started to leave the classroom, Hermione risked embellishing.

"He wants to mentor you and you need to let him," she whispered, "this is the best way to get close."

"Alright… I'll see you in the library later," Harry whispered back, his stomach twisting in nerves. Hermione nodded and squeezed his hand.

"Good luck," she said into his ear, her lips close to his face. She drew away before they did anything considered inappropriate for the classroom. Harry grabbed his bag, steeling his nerve as he went to put on his best Tom Riddle impression.

Don't think of it like that! He angrily told himself. Just be yourself.

With a slightly nervous shuffle, Harry approached Slughorn who looked over his shoulder, giving Harry a curious look as he closed the clasps on his dragon-skin briefcase.

"Come on, now, Harry, you'll be late for your next lesson," he said. He then turned, his gooseberry-coloured eyes softening fondly as he looked Harry up and down. "Is something the matter, m'boy?"

"I just wanted to thank you for earlier," Harry said, a little surprised at how easily the words came to him. He cleared his throat a little, hoisting his bag up onto his shoulder as he moved closer. He hunched his shoulder a little, appearing self-conscious and uncertain. He put on a sheepish smile. Honesty felt like the best approach. "Asking for help is a little outside of my comfort zone, you see."

Slughorn hummed thoughtfully at his omission, placing his hands together above his stomach as he surveyed Harry. There was genuine warmth in his gaze, Harry could tell, but he could see the glint of cunning that was on the hunt for opportunity. He didn't doubt that Slughorn had Harry's best interests at heart, but he also had his own - forefront and centre.

"I am pleased that you did. As much as we can strive for success on our own, more often than not, we need a little help to get there." He tipped Harry a wink that led Harry to think that he wasn't just reference then assistance in the lesson. Harry couldn't think what extra help Slughorn had given him - unless he was referring to his many introductions during his Christmas party. Harry felt an unpleasant twist in his stomach as he recalled the creepy biographer with his lingering gaze and simpering smile. If hanging around with men like that were the key to success, Harry was much more comfortable with failure.

"Sometimes more than just a little," Harry said, giving his shoes a downwards glance, "I've got a lot of expectation on my shoulders and I need to learn as much as I can… when I can."

"A very wise attitude for one in your position," Slughorn said, rather suddenly adopting a solemn air, "now you ought to head off, Harry. Keep up the good work, m'boy."

Harry considered for a moment, debating whether or not he should just try, then and there, to ask about horcruxes. Yet as he looked into Slughorn's sincere gaze, he held back. It didn't feel like the right time. So instead, he nodded, putting on his best smile.

"I will. Thank you, sir."

Horcruxes.

Hermione glared at the offending word on her otherwise empty parchment. Nothing followed from it, no descriptions, no theories. Just the word, taunting her on the yellowish paper. She figured out that it was a plural, at least, meaning that 'horcrux' was the singular. It did very little to uncover the word's meaning. All that she knew from what little Harry had gleaned was that it was bad enough for Slughorn to conceal his memory and hide what he told a young Voldemort in his school years about them.

Having casual perusal of the restricted section yielded no results. Even after delving into some very unpleasant tomes, she found nothing about horcruxes. Not until she dared to try ' Magick Moste Evil'. For a book with such an ominous title, it was oddly vague and unhelpful. Within the preface at least, she came across the first mention of horcruxes.

Of the Horcrux, wickedest of magical inventions, we shall not speak nor give direction.

She had slammed the book shut. While it proved her logic that 'horcruxes' was a plural, it told her next to nothing. Yet it did, at least, confirm that what Dumbledore had tasked Harry to look into was very, very dark magic indeed. Perhaps Slughorn's determination to conceal what he had told Voldemort all those years ago had some sense. Was he ashamed by his knowledge of such things? Or had he been the source of knowledge that gave Voldemort access to something so apparently wicked?

But what Hermione couldn't understand was why Dumbledore needed Harry to find the information for him in the first place? While Dumbledore was a strong opposer against Dark Magic in all forms, Hermione highly doubted that he had no knowledge about horcruxes. He was the most brilliant wizard of their times, his knowledge and power so great, he was the only one Voldemort truly feared and gave him pause. There simply could be no way that in all his many years, he had not come across the term himself. If Slughorn knew about such things, surely he did as well?

She just had to believe that there was a good reason why Dumbledore wanted Harry to succeed where he had failed. Was it some sort of lesson? Was he inadvertently teaching Harry how to extract information from unwilling sources using only his wits and wiles? Though they would have to use the word 'teaching' very loosely as it was more like expecting Harry to just figure it out for himself. Almost every instance where Harry had risen to the occasion, it had been because he'd been forced into a baptism by fire. He flourished under high-stress situations, but that didn't mean that it was right to put him under pressure to get the best out of him. In fact, it was cruel.

It was all cruel. All of it. The stress, the strain, the expectation, the prophecy… Harry was a marvel to even be functional with it all weighing down on him.

At the end of the day with both their lessons over, they sat together in the Library. While she poured over scripts in her desperation to redeem the Library as a source of knowledge, Harry snored softly opposite her, using his arms as a pillow. Thankfully, Madam Pince hadn't noticed Harry taking a nap and Hermione was doing her utmost to allow Harry to have some undisturbed rest (especially as it was sort of her fault why he was so tired in the first place after keeping him up so late the night before). A large part of her choice to allow him to abuse the quiet of the library was so she could steal glances at his peaceful face. His cheek was pushed up where he leaned on his arm, his glasses skewed as a result. His brow was absent any frown or lines of stress. With his fringe covering his scar, he appeared just like any sleeping teen.

When the windows darkened as night claimed its post, Hermione started to lose focus in her reading, preparing herself to admit defeat. Shuffling her sheaths of parchment together in a pile, she started to clear the table. Before she gave herself the unenviable task of waking Harry up, she caught movement in one of the aisles and straightened, checking if it was Madame Pince doing her rounds. She scowled as she recognised Cormac McLaggen lumbering purposefully towards them, his face brightening as he spotted her and Harry in their usual place. Her scowl deepened when she noticed Cho Chang lingering behind him, not immediately following her boyfriend and certainly not possessing the same enthusiasm.

Hermione reached across the table, gently jostling Harry's shoulder to wake him up.

"Harry? You might want to-."

Her whispered words were drowned out by an over-loud and obviously forced laugh as McLaggen emerged boisterously making a beeline for them.

"Ah! Granger and Potter! Fancy seeing you here?"

His voice carried as much subtly as a foghorn. Harry's head shot up, jerking awake abruptly. His arm twitched towards his robes where he had his wand stowed before coming to full awareness a second later. He used the reflexive motion to instead push his glasses straight.

"Can we help you with something?" Harry asked, eyeing the older boy suspiciously. Hermione moved to clear some of the books away, painfully aware that they were very obviously not the sort that they would have picked out for a homework assignment. McLaggen didn't appear to be in the slightest bit interested in what they were doing, instead sweeping over to Harry. He rested his hands on the back of the empty chair beside Harry and, for a moment, he seemed to go to take the seat. He changed his mind, instead leaning towards Harry, acting as if they were much more friendly than they were. Harry noticeably stiffened as the other boy encroached on his personal space.

"So, word is the house team is down a player." McLaggen said smoothly with his cocky smile in place. Harry coolly raised a brow at him.

"Is it now?"

McLaggen laughed roughly, his smile edging closely to a sneer.

"Come off it, Potter. Anyone with ears knows that you and Weasley have had the falling out of the century," he said scoffingly. Cho then reached them. She didn't come to stand at McLaggen's side, instead hanging back. She didn't look at either Hermione or Harry, her face pink. Harry gave her a fleeting look before returning his hard stare back upon McLaggen.

"Yeah and that's old news. What's that got to do with the team?" Harry frowned at him.

McLaggen leaned back, appearing uncertain for a moment before putting his smug smile back in place.

"Well, maybe it's not official yet , but gossip spreads faster than firstie flu," he gave a dry laugh, shaking his head. "Not much you can do in this school without everyone finding out about it within twenty four hours, Potter."

"I noticed," Harry said wearily, "so what? You figured that there's a spot on the team now with your name on it?"

"Well, Gryffindor's not going to have great chances when down a keeper."

"Thanks. I know how the game works," Harry said sharply and sighed impatiently, looking over to Hermione. She read his thoughts clearly. He wanted to leave as an excuse to get out of the conversation that McLaggen was forcing on him. She moved towards her bag as Harry unfolded his arms and placed his hands on the table, getting to his feet so he was eye-level with McLaggen who let out an amused huff.

"Whatever's going on between you and Weasley - it's none of my business, I get that - but you don't want his bad energy on the pitch. He's decent enough when he figures out his rhythm, but he's far too unpredictable. I remember how he played last year."

Either McLaggen was completely oblivious to the signals Harry was giving off or he just didn't care. He rattled off to Harry as if he had an open invitation to share his opinion.

"Weasley is our King, he lets the quaffle in?" McLaggen scoffed in a sing-song tone, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, just what the team needs."

"I think you'll find that it's up to me to decide what the team needs," Harry cut over him, "if I need to find a new keeper, I'll have you in mind." He then turned to look at Cho, done with the conversation. Placing a placid smile on his face, he addressed his ex. "Hiya Cho. Did you have a good holiday?"

Hermione pushed down her urge to laugh at the surprised look on McLaggen's face as Harry dismissed him. She quickly stuffed her books away before either McLaggen or Cho noticed what sort of research they had been doing. Cho stared back at Harry, startled that he had spoken to her. It was likely the first time in a long time that they had been able to overcome their embarrassment and acknowledge each other's existence.

"Oh, um, it was quiet," Cho said haltingly, glancing between Harry and Cormac nervously before edging closer to her boyfriend. "I, um, guess I haven't had the chance to say congrats on being made Captain."

A wild swoop of anger rushed through Hermione unexpectedly when Cho's gaze lifted up to rest on Harry's face. The softening in her eyes as she looked at Harry properly was very obvious and appreciative. When Harry then smiled in return, the anger twisted into something hard and volatile. Hermione gripped the strap of her bag, heaving it over her shoulder. She jostled into Harry as she got up to her feet. He jumped a little, looking over at her with a strange look. His smile changed and there was an infuriating knowing look in his eyes.

"Thanks, Cho," Harry said, voice coloured with amusement. "Anyway, we better go before Pince docks points for loitering."

Not giving McLaggen a chance to strike up more conversation about Quidditch, Harry snatched up his own bag. Hermione didn't take her eyes off Cho as she placed her hand on Harry's back, moving subconsciously to make it clear who belonged to who. Cho's dark eyes roved onto her, picking up the threat. The softness left her eyes at once, hardening.

"Oh, right. That's fair. Maybe we can talk shop at Sluggy's next gathering," McLaggen said to them as they moved to leave. "If you're going to show up, that is."

"Sure, whatever," Harry said distractedly, waving a hand, "see you around."

Once they were clear of the last aisle of books, then glanced over their shoulders, checking that they were out of earshot. Harry blew out a breath, giving her a meaningful look. Hermione shifted her hand on his back, moving closer.

"Well, someone wants to be my friend," Harry said bemusedly as they left the library. "McLaggen and Romilda Vane should share notes."

They looked at each other and both laughed. Hermione's heart fluttered at the sound of Harry's amusement, feeling strangely breathless as she drank in the sight of his carefree smile and bright eyes. His good humour set off a euphoric thrill. It felt so good to share a moment of levity. That Harry could even smile and laugh with her felt like a momentous victory. One that she pried out from Cho Chang's clutches. The savage remnants of the anger that had so unexpectedly burned still lingered.

"I can't believe his arrogance. Just butting in like that." Hermione shook her head disbelievingly, looking over her shoulder again to double-check that they were clear of McLaggen. "He's barely said a word to you before this year and now he's acting like he's an old friend. It's maddening."

Harry laughed softly in response. He nudged her playfully when they reached the stairs, making her look up at him questioningly. The mischievous glint was back in his green eyes with that smug, knowing look.

"Huh… maybe he thinks I'm fanciable too." She swatted his arm, causing him to laugh again. The sound was intoxicating. "And you thought Cho was the threat! It's McLaggen you need to watch out for. It's funny, now that I think about it. He said something to me at the Christmas party about how I was getting a lot of attention. It turns out he was the one paying the most."

"Harry!" Hermione felt a little giddy as she giggled. "I don't think McLaggen fancies you."

"You saw how close he came to my face!" Harry insisted, gesturing up at his cheek. "He's so full-on. Ergh, you know, I'm starting to hope that Ron doesn't bail. I'd rather his sour mood over whatever that was back there. Well, I know what that was. An ego the size of jupiter. It was pretty hard to miss."

Hermione smiled to herself as she listened to Harry chatting away. Her gaze dropped from his eyes down to his mouth and his lips. Harry immediately noticed, going silent and he abruptly stopped walking as they reached the top of the main stairs heading down to the Entrance Hall. The sound of the rest of the school having dinner buzzed from the open doors to the Great Hall.

"He was trying to make out that he's not intimidated by you," she said as she drew closer to him, her body pressing against his in a manner that would definitely get them in trouble if they were spotted.

"Speaking of intimidation, I saw the look you gave Cho," Harry said with a smirk, "I think it's safe to say that she got the hint. Not that it was necessary. It was the first time she's been able to stomach looking at me, let alone talk to me."

"I expect now that she's with McLaggen, she's well aware of what she missed out on. Who can compare to you, after all?"

She couldn't stop herself from winding her arm around Harry's waist. His eyes widened in surprise at her forwardness. His face flushed in response to her flattery, the evidence of how she could fluster him setting her heart racing a little faster. Footsteps then sounded at the bottom of the stairs, coming from the Great Hall. Harry shifted a little, glancing down to the source of the sound, but he didn't pull away. Hermione's smile broadened as a small group of students left the Great Hall, wandering out to see her and Harry in full view. She felt their stares wash over them, their chatter dropping down in volume as they whispered between them, moving on. They were Hufflepuffs and heading down in the direction of their Common Room.

"You know there's a store room off the kitchens," Harry said under his breath, tilting his head down towards her ear, "We'd have to walk in on the house elves but at least Dobby will fix us supper."

"We can't abuse their hospitality when it suits us," Hermione said despite very much wanting to be alone with Harry in a small, secluded and private space. "You're just going to have to wait. Patience is a virtue, after all."

Harry groaned, resting his head on her shoulder. She then released him, taking his hand. He lifted his head up, eyes meeting hers.

"Fine," he said, pushing out his bottom lip in a brief pout. He squeezed her hand. "Let's go then before we miss dessert."

Hand-in-hand, they boldly strode into the Great Hall. Their late appearance drew much attention. The chatter noticeably grew in volume as the student mass reacted to their open display of their relationship. They joined their fellow Gryffindors, moving to fill the space that Neville and Dean formed as they saw their approach. None of the other students complained as they were made to move up. Harry settled down, not hesitating to seize the platter with his favourite pudding and dishing out a rather unhealthy sized slice of treacle tart. Hermione soon found herself regretting turning down Harry's suggestion of disappearing to the kitchens for some private time. She glanced up at the top table, noticing that McGonagall was watching her and Harry closely. If they hadn't shown up for dinner, the reason for their absence would be glaringly obvious.

"We got cornered by McLaggen in the library," Harry muttered to Dean after he managed to inhale his pudding in record time. "Any idea how he knows about Ron wanting to quit?"

"Wait, what?" Dean whispered back, leaning towards Harry. "McLaggen knows?"

"Yeah, he tried to pressure me into making him the keeper."

"Did you?" Ginny leaned forwards, involving herself in the conversation without pause. Their chat was picking up interest down the table. Hermione glanced down to where Ron and Lavender were sitting, close enough to overhear them. Sure enough, Ron's eyes flicked in their direction. Harry hesitated, grimacing as he flashed Ginny a pointed look.

"No. I didn't," he said measuredly, "I didn't like his attitude during try-outs and I definitely didn't like him trying to muscle his way in." Ginny raised her brows at him. "What?"

She leaned over Dean, her eyes turning hard. "Just make a call, Harry. You've put it off long enough."

"I don't see the urgency. The next match is months away."

"You're just making this more awkward than it needs to be," she said angrily, but then drew in a breath, lowering her voice, "Ron wants to quit. Just let him."

Harry suddenly threw his fork down on his plate, his eyes flashing with anger. Ginny recoiled at the sight of his temper.

"I've got a lot more on my mind than Quidditch right now," Harry bit out under his breath, "yeah, I know, scandalous for the captain to say that much, but I'm not tossing and turning at night, worrying about Gryffindor's chances of winning the cup. Being down a keeper isn't the end of the world and I'm certainly not going to lose sleep over it."

Even though Harry had released the tirade quietly, his every word made it down the table to Ron. He went to rise but Lavender grasped at his arm, stopping him from storming off as he clearly planned to do.

"Let it go. Don't rise to it," Lavender was heard over the rising whispers. Her words got through. Ron clenched his jaw, but then he let Lavender pull him back down to the bench.

"Boys," Ginny then sighed, pinching at the bridge of her nose. "You are such a headache."

Tension defused, Harry visibly relaxed, sagging against Hermione. She was fiercely regretting her call to turn down Harry's suggestion of a secret supper in the kitchens at that point. Especially as she felt energised at Harry's side, a thrill pulsing through her at his display. Where Harry's stubbornness used to get under her skin, now it excited her. Harry simply refused to back down and let people walk over him. He wouldn't be pressured into anything he disagreed with, not without resistance. In fact, the only person who really stood a chance of combating his stubborn streak was her.

Hermione rested her hand on Harry's thigh.

"Do you think the store room in the kitchens is still available?" She whispered in his ear. Harry's eyes darted to her at once, all traces of anger seeping out of him. His smile curved upwards and he ducked his head towards her.

"One way to find out," he breathed back.