Ch.29: The Potion
March 2, 1999
"One of these days, I'm murdering Greeves in his sleep."
Hermione kept her face hidden behind her book while Ginny continued cursing their professor under her breath in the event he showed up early.
"This is the fourth extra credit session I've had to attend this term. If his assignments were actually fair and reasonable like he says, we wouldn't have this issue."
No one could raise an argument that Greeves' assignments were more than challenging. But she couldn't complain that they were designed to have his students think outside their comfort zone — to think like a Dark Wizard would. While it wasn't Hermione's preferred class, she appreciated the challenge and the structure to which he kept the curriculum in comparison to previous professors. Namely Umbridge who refused to teach anything useful.
"They're designed to prepare us for real life scenarios," Hermione retorted smartly. "If it were easy, we wouldn't need to learn at all, would we?"
"Coming from the girl with the highest grade in the class," Ginny added, glowering. "Why are you even here? It's not like you need it to pass."
"I find the practice duels to be helpful. They're almost therapeutic in a way."
"Oh please." She rolled her eyes, almost affectionately before lowering her voice to a whisper. "You just want to show off for your boyfriend."
"For your information, he won't be here," Hermione scoffed, smirking. "Besides, there's no need to show off. I've already proven that I can kick his arse."
Ginny tilted her head back, letting out an indulgent laugh. "Atta girl."
Over the last few weeks, Hermione had grown more and more comfortable with talking about him when it was just her and Ginny. The conversations were never anything in depth. Mostly to serve as a check-in to ensure all was well and they weren't at each other's throats 24/7. Similarly to how she would ask about Harry; wanting nothing but happiness for them while being spared as many details as possible. Before the conversation could get any further, a recurrent set of friends approached them.
"Hello ladies."
Hermione and Ginny's heads jerked up and away from each other to address their new company.
"Whatcha guys talking about?" Blaise asked.
They glanced at each other knowingly.
"Boys," they answered in unison.
"Ugh, they're a right mess, aren't they?" Theo quipped, half to be coy and half out of spite, though Hermione could detect the undertones of bitterness.
It was through one of her late night conversations with Draco that she'd heard about Theo's break up with Wood. While it was safe to bet everyone in the current circle knew at this point, she figured it was best not to bring it up any time soon.
Blaise cast him a brief, sympathetic glance before replying. "Don't start. I hear enough of that from Elena."
"Why does that not surprise me?" Ginny quipped. "Where is she, anyways?"
"She's on her way. She's getting in some extra practice before the session starts," Blaise scoffed, disdain evident. "That man is as mad as Moody was. Minus the Unforgivables."
"I'm sure she will do fine."
"I hope so. She's already going loony over this trip to Spain she wants us to take this summer."
"Oh, how lovely! Are you going to visit your mum, then?" To which, Ginny arched a brow.
"Meeting the parents, eh?" She supplied, half-intrigued. "That's a pretty big deal."
Blaise shrugged. "It was her suggestion."
Hermione's smile had long faded. As it stood, she and Draco were still very much hidden and kept secret from the general public but if they continued down this path, it was inevitable that others would find out — including their parents.
While her last encounter with his father wasn't as disagreeable as it could have been, she had no desire to go back to Azkaban. Especially not to bear the news of his family line being forever ruined by her blood. His mother seemed pleasant enough, even when she'd been blatantly arguing with her son in front of her. Her own parents, however...
Even when she were to bring their memories back, that would include the times she spoke of him — the boy with a strange name who constantly belittled her, bringing nothing but mockery and affliction. She could only imagine how that conversation would go.
"Hi mum, hi dad. I realize you didn't know me until about thirty seconds ago, but I'm your daughter who erased your memories, replaced them with false ones, and convinced you to move halfway across the world for your own safety. Oh, and I'm dating the boy who used to torment me on a daily basis."
While she dreaded the conversations that would take place, she did miss them dearly and decided restoring their memories was well worth the fallout. No matter the cost or how fearful she may be of the consequences.
"—Harry wants to plan something for when this big case of his wraps up," Ginny continued." I told him I'd be perfectly happy with staying home—"
"—and playing trophy wife?" Theo concluded coyly. Ginny snickered in response.
"With him just starting out in the Ministry? Hardly," she laughed. "We've talked about me trying out for a professional Quidditch team but wanted to spend some time together before I take on a profession full time. Mostly because we, well, since we," she paused, her cheeks ruddy. It was rare to see Ginny get meek about anything nowadays. When she did, the reasoning was often easy to pinpoint. "—well we've never really had a chance to really be together, you know?"
Which brought Hermione to the forefront of her own internal conflict.
Now that second term had reached its midway point, it was time to consider what she wanted to do with her life. Granted, the prospect was less terrifying now that she had had time to herself and enjoy some normalcy. After attending the Charity Gala, she knew there were still opportunities in the magical world. Now, they also recognized her for something she contributed to rather than as a war hero.
It wasn't as daunting. Still, there was still the frightening aspect of the unknown. Mostly in regards to her budding romance. At the start of the year, not once did she consider stepping into a new relationship. This was something completely unprecedented. Not to mention they hadn't discussed what their plans were or what they would do once their time at Hogwarts came to an end.
Since McGonagall's banned entering any abandoned classrooms after that prefect caught wind of the students using them for shagging. One would think how professors had noticed before. Perhaps they turned a blind eye and were forced to do something when a student made it public knowledge. Needless to say, everyone avoided that student for a while. Regardless, there were so many questions she had yet to ask in the limited minutes they had together. Many she desired answers to. On the topic of summer plans, perhaps it would be worth asking Draco if he'd be willing to accompany her to Perth—
"How about you, Princess?"
Her heart jumped to her throat.
"What's that?"
"Do you have a plan for after you pass your N.E.W.T.s? Actually, let me rephrase that. Have you settled on which of the countless job offers you'll be taking?"
Gods, she hadn't expected someone to jump the gun so quickly.
"Oh, I-I haven't officially decided," she answered honestly. "But after speaking with Kingsley at the gala, I've considered working with the Ministry."
He seemed...oddly displeased with that response. More than that. He was petulant.
"That's...nice."
How curious.
She narrowed her eyes at him. "Why are you acting like I've ruined your entire day?"
"Because they've all placed bets," Elena deadpanned as she approached the group. She gave them an unimpressed look and Blaise's expression was one of utter betrayal.
"What the fuck, Lena—?"
"What? It's not like the three of you were being discreet about it," she countered, smirking.
"Three?" Hermione echoed curiously.
"I'm not telling you anything anymore," Blaise huffed with a childish pout.
"You didn't tell me any of this," Elena corrected, rubbing her temples. "You were extremely loud when I was trying to study. Thank the Gods Malfoy had the sense to shut you two down. Consider this repentance."
"What did you bet on, exactly?" Hermione asked, narrowed eyes darting between the two of the three that were currently present. Theo eventually caved under her glare.
"Blaise said you would be a healer," he blurted. "Mostly because he liked to fantasize you in their unif—fuck—!" He cursed when Blaise smacked him upside the head.
"What the actual fuck, Theo—?!" Blaise exclaimed, fuming bright red.
Theo winced, rubbing the back of his head. "We've all thought it! Even Pansy agreed!"
Meanwhile, Ginny burst into laughter. "I always knew you'd look hot in green. Guess it'd make sense the Slytherins would think so, too."
"Okay, that's enough—" Hermione tried, in hopes the group would be willing to switch subjects. Then Elena jumped in enthusiastically.
"Wouldn't she though? I've thought about lending her that green dress I wore to the Slug Party."
Groaning, Hermione ducked her head down when multiple heads turned to the loud whistles and catcalls.
"Gods, that dress," Blaise said in a low purr. "I could hardly keep my hands off of you that night. Can you imagine if Draco saw the Princes—" Suddenly, his words grew silent even though his mouth kept moving. Pleased, Hermione pocketed her wand and turned to address Theo.
"So Theo, what career did you place your bet on?" She asked nonchalantly, blatantly ignoring Blaise while he glared at her, mouthing something she probably would have hexed him regardless.
"Well, my thought was you'd come back to Hogwarts as a Professor. Obviously, for your intellect and passion for knowledge. I wasn't ogling over how you'd look in academic robes like this prat over here," Theo snickered, gesturing to the still-silenced Blaise and narrowly dodging his quick hand.
In all seriousness, both were great options. But only one person's opinion stood out. One she hadn't heard yet. Luckily Ginny beat her to it as she lifted her Silencio.
"What did Malfoy say?" The redheaded witch asked, equally intrigued.
They looked at each other with uncertainty before Theo answered.
"He wouldn't place a bet. Not a real one, at least."
"Hence why we started getting a little loud," Blaise quipped in a grumble.
"You were yelling," Elena contributed flatly.
"We're trying to get him to open up a bit," Theo supplied. "He's been...distant the past few weeks."
"That's not really out of the ordinary for him, is it? Thought he's always been one for wandering off on his own," Ginny offered.
Theo shook his head. "Actually, he's been around. But when he is, he's...I dunno, it's like he's half there."
At a loss, Ginny shrugged her shoulders, but Hermione knew what he was referring to.
He's been occluding around them, she thought. And she had a strong suspicion why that was the case.
On one hand, she was fortunate Ginny and Luna knew their secret by their own methods of deducing and were able to keep it to themselves. On the other hand, Draco had to continue keeping it from his two closest confidants. Ironically, from two of his friends who were openly in support of them pursuing a relationship with one another. He'd become so adept at occluding that neither of them would suspect it. In hindsight, she knew it wasn't fair. It wasn't that she didn't think either of them were capable of keeping such a secret. They simply hadn't discussed it. And in the end, it was his decision.
Both she and Ginny shared subtle glances, feigning ignorance. After exchanging a wordless conversation, they spoke up in unison, nearly talking over the other.
"Strange."
"How peculiar."
Hermione jerked back, out of shock and mild fear at the small envelope that had quite literally been dropped on her and Draco's workstation.
Not because it displayed a threatening message or looked particularly suspicious. It looked like any average sized letter. But the loud sound it made when dropped, and the state of fatigue Harry's owl upon her arrival told her otherwise.
Mere seconds after it made contact with the desk, the letter shook before exploding. The cloud of confetti and ribbon fell around the materialized basket which held several packages of sugar quills, a few new books and a sizable stack of parchment with Ron's scrawly penmanship. All was wrapped in ribbon and a gnarly attempt at a bow to finish. Attached to the bow was a small note;
I tried telling him this was overkill, but he's been feeling rather guilty so, here we are. Please feed my owl before sending her back; she will need to regain her strength before heading home. Enjoy the quills and Ron's hundred-page term paper.
Miss you,
Harry
With incredulity, she laughed. Naturally, she anticipated repercussions for sending Ron's gift early, but nothing quite to this scale. With their potion finishing up soon, she wanted to ensure he would receive his mail in time to give their brew her full, undivided attention. With the upcoming Quidditch match this weekend, she assured Draco she had it handled so he could put his priorities elsewhere for the time being.
Before she could even consider diving into the over-the-top package taking up her workstation, her head jerked to the door when a knock sounded. Her brows furrowed. That was odd. Pestering and jokes aside, their friends never actually came here to bother them. And Draco never needed to knock.
Another knock came through. "Mister Malfoy? Miss Granger?"
Hermione slid from her stool, casting charms left and right to straighten out their area and clear off their workstation and placing pellets in front of Harry's tired owl. Within seconds, all items from Ron were hidden from sight and any stray items were sent to their rightful places — random notes, vials of ingredients, her and Draco's respective belongings that now reside there permanently.
She quickly composed herself before opening the door to find Professor Slughorn who beamed at her. "Ah, there you are. Hope I haven't caught you at a bad time."
"Not at all, Professor. What brings you here? It's rather late."
"It is. But if my calculations are correct, your potion has reached its final stage. Thought I'd save you the trouble and hand you your grade as soon as possible rather than waiting until morning. " He walked in and looked around, searching. "Though, I had hoped Mister Malfoy would be present."
"He's been at Quidditch practice. They're playing Hufflepuff this weekend."
"Ah, that's right," Slughorn recalled, conjuring another thought. "I hear they're fierce competitors this year."
Hermione nodded in silent agreement. She'd heard something similar from Ginny on how they had some of the strongest players this season. It was also the reason why she hadn't seen much of Draco this week outside of class. Long, enervating practices which soaked up virtually all his residual free time.
Time that would otherwise be reserved for her.
"On a similar note, you two have become quite the spectacle this year," Slughorn added.
Completely caught off guard, Hermione blinked rapidly, a sense of dread arising.
"Pardon?"
"Your partnership in my classroom seems to have inspired several of my younger students to willingly partner up outside of their respective houses,' he clarified. "The results have been spectacular thus far."
"Oh," she exhaled, relieved. "I'm glad to hear that. Malfoy's certainly proven himself to be an exceptional partner."
He grinned widely. "I had expected as much. Now, before I take a look at your brew," he headed over to the balcony railing where the night sky was clear and the stars shone like small diamonds. "Ah, look at that," he said with awe, staring up at the moon and taking in the crisp, night air. "A welcome upgrade over my classroom in the dungeons, isn't it?" Slughorn grinned, taking a few more steps to their recently cleared workstation and peered into their cauldron. "My my," he crooned in admiration. "Smooth and stable as stone. Exactly like they said it would look in the entries."
"Thank you, Professor," Hermione acknowledged with pride, watching him continue to fawn over their potion.
"Whose blood did you use?"
"Mine."
Slughorn's expression fell. "I see. Then I will need Mister Malfoy before I can make the final assessment."
Furrowing her brow, she expressed her confoundment. "Why? Is there something wrong? I-I couldn't let him lose more blood after he'd been in the hospital weeks before and I—" she rambled and the elder wizard held his hand up, stopping her.
"I assure you, the potion will work perfectly fine. It just won't work on you when we test it."
She met his eyes with a hesitant gaze.
"Test, sir?"
"Yes, of course. As you know, there are many ways to test the potency of a brew but this isn't one commonly made. It won't hurt," he noted upon seeing her uncertainty. "Quite the opposite, in fact. I assumed as this is the most potent healing potion known to wizardkind, you'd be most anxious to use it."
Obviously, the thought had crossed her mind. Every time Draco rolled up his sleeves and forwent his glamour around her, she thought of what his skin looked like before it was corrupted with dark magic; the agony he had endured. The trauma it left behind for him to avoid discussing anything relating to his sixteenth birthday.
"I just-I didn't think we were allowed to use our brews to pursue such...personal matters."
"For a brew that Mister Nott and Miss Cabbott had, yes. In their case, it certainly is forbidden. Yours however, is perfectly safe. Also conveniently limited in its utilization which eliminates any chance of misuse." His eyes fixated on the clear question in her eyes. "Remarkable potion, Sana Vulnere," Slughorn addressed, beginning to take small steps away from their workstation with Hermione steadily treading behind him. "One of many potions in which the creator's intentions have significant influence on its success. So many attempts that were nearly successful because brewers didn't realize the significance of the sacrificial piece involved; the blood."
Did you think I would be willing to sacrifice my blood for the sake of a school assignment?
She thought to herself, remembering when she went positively mental at the prospect of having to use wizard's blood for a school assignment.
"Many believe that any blood would work," he continued. "Or that it could be taken. Oftentimes, more than what's needed. What they didn't realize is that quantity is irrelevant. All that mattered was the blood came from someone else willingly. Someone who never intended on using the potion for their own personal gain."
You were never supposed to be my partner.
Her smile faded.
"—with all kind gestures, a sensation of self-satisfaction is typically accompanied with them. This potion takes all of that away, for its entire existence is made so out of a pure desire; not a ravenous one, but a simple wish in helping another. Beautiful, isn't it?"
You think after working on that potion of yours, you suddenly know everything about him? Do you even know why he picked it in the first place?
Like a freight train, it hit her all at once.
All the vivid, fresh memories of Draco trying his damnedest to keep her as far away from the potion as possible without losing his temper—and ultimately failing. From the moment Slughorn announced their partnership to the day she tricked him, leaving them with no choice but to use her blood, she'd been wrong about his motives. Each time he tried to press, she fought back. She argued with him, insisting he let her help for the sake of their success despite having no clue what his true intentions were.
Swallowing the lump in her throat, her hand closed over her forearm where a glamour was kept in place at all times. Even on the days she wore multiple layers. Especially on the nights she fell into bed with him.
To this day, she could still feel the residual burn of Bellatrix's magic embedded within her. All the other wounds healed over with magic and time, but this particular one never faded away. It remained a day she struggled to forget.
Apparently, she wasn't the only one.
March 3, 1999
"How much of the lacewing flies?"
"Two scoops. And don't forget, those need to be a powder before adding them in," Hermione supplied, peering into the bubbling cauldron. "Good color so far. Almost resembles the color of moldy troll skin."
"Thanks." The student she was assisting, Callan, a Gryffindor fourth year, flushed at the compliment while dumping two measured scoops of lacewing flies into the mortar.
As the younger wizard crushed their next ingredient, she waited, her thoughts trailing to earlier this morning.
Upon their arrival to his classroom, Professor Slughorn was quick to bring them to his office and inform him of the need to test their potion. Fishing out a vial from his pocket, Draco feigned confusion, glancing back and forth between her and their teacher. Of course, she'd already informed him the night before in their journal of the circumstances. That he would have to pick a wound to heal. After a brief moment, he conceded. Much to her surprise, he ended up picking a scar on his right arm which came from the chandelier falling in his drawing room. It was a superficial wound, but it would do. Their eyes met while Slughorn administered the potion. The elder wizard was entranced as the scar was instantly covered by healthy tissue interweaving over top, vanishing it with no evidence of it having ever occurred. But neither of them paid him any mind.
Immediately after, he gave them full marks and told them to keep the rest of the potion for it may come in handy someday. Although, they did have to clear the room in the Astronomy Tower by the end of next week. Apparently, McGonagall had been cracking down on students misusing private settings for more...carnal pleasures than academic reasons after several prefects reported multiple incidents. The pair shared a quick glance, nodding their acknowledgement.
They hadn't spoken since then.
Now in study hall, Hermione leaned against a countertop, crossing her arms and turning her head to catch the tail-end of Draco's observant gaze lingering on her. Instead of breaking eye contact, he gave her a slight smirk before his attention was taken by a student requesting his assistance.
Taken aback, Hermione found her cheeks were getting dangerously warm. It wasn't the first time she'd caught him staring at her, but it was the most daring he'd been outside of closed doors. It didn't help that they were limited in their encounters. Even with their secret journal entries to get by on, there was something so addictive about their connection that made her want more every waking minute. Or perhaps it was just him.
A small smile graced her features as she watched him address the student's questions and walked them through their brew step by step. Falling into a dream-like trance even when the sight of him was obstructed and pale blond was replaced with dark brown.
"Hey Granger?"
"Hmm?" She hummed distractedly.
"W-well, I was wondering," the younger wizard spoke up, fumbling over his words. "Would you, er—that is, if you would—? In Hogsmeade? This weekend? with me?"
Looking beyond voice cracks and stumbled over words, her smile fell when his intentions sank in.
"Oh, that's sweet, Callan, but—"
"— but unfortunately, Hermione is very busy most weekends," Ginny quipped in teasing tones as she approached them. "Though I hear Heidi over there," she gestured to the witch beside Draco, "—is available and just waiting for an invitation."
Callan blushed, smiling appreciatively. "Thanks. I'll be right back." Hermione nodded encouragingly, her tension fading as he skipped to the other side of the classroom.
"Thanks, but you didn't have to get his hopes up like that."
Ginny smirked. "Did I?"
They watched from afar as the pair conversed, both sporting matching blushes. Hermione's eyes darted to Draco who was also spectating the exchange before shaking his head, noticeably scoffing as he tended to the newly neglected brew.
"How did you—?"
"What can I say? I'm a people person." Another momentous occasion where Hermione was rendered speechless in the books, and Ginny merely shrugged. "I've also been watching him muster up the courage by practicing on the other girls in here while you were..." she glanced over to Draco who was working, deep in concentration at his workstation. She eyed him up and down before turning back to Hermione with a sly smirk, "—preoccupied."
Hermione cleared her throat, bright red. "Don't you have a student you should be overseeing?"
"Already finished. Blaise can be a good pupil when he wants to be." A familiar glint manifested in Ginny's eyes when she beamed with pride, casting a wink before taking her leave.
"...went to America for a few weeks for this case. Have I mentioned how much I hate this case? I hope the Ministry intercepts this letter so they know how much I hate this case. It feels good to get it off my chest, you know? I can see why you like writing these letters so much."
Her body shook with laughter as she read through the stack of parchment in Ron's tone and voice. Twelve pages in and he'd yet to disappoint with substance. After all, he'd practically written an entire book and a half to her — really, it was more of a trilogy — in efforts to make up for the lack of time. So far, there was no mention of his mystery witch or wizard. Perhaps there would be something about him or her further along. It did make her wonder if he and Harry suspected anything regarding her own love life. Granted, they had been reasonably preoccupied as of late.
Suddenly, she heard the door open and her head swiveled around. At the sight of the company, her heart fluttered. Without a second thought, she bolted from her seat and threw her arms around him just as the door slid closed.
"I thought you weren't coming tonight," she admitted, noting his damp hair from showering after Quidditch. His large, warm hands settled on her back.
"Practice ended early," Draco replied tiredly, reluctantly drawing back and heading further into the room. "Apparently it took Cassis nearly collapsing out of exhaustion for our captain to take the hint that we're being overwor—" he froze upon witnessing the sight before him. "What's all this?" He added with incredulity, darting between the scattered sheets of parchment on the floor by their workstation and the large, untouched stack.
"Oh, don't mind the mess. It's all from Ron," she answered, waving a hand to magically straighten out the mess as she led him to the sofa.
He raised a brow. "Should I be concerned?"
She snorted in response, shaking her head as they sat down, keeping a sliver of space between them.
"He and Harry were granted to take the week off. Apparently, Kingsley's been sympathetic to the entire Auror department and Ron decided to take the productive approach by freaking out because I sent him his gift a few days early." Instead of taking the opportunity to change topics, he pressed on.
"So he's finally decided to tell you what they've been working on in that monstrosity?"
"Unfortunately no, that's all still classified I'm afraid." She fixated on a stray strand of soft blond hair before tucking it in place. "Shame they've always been rather good at keeping secrets," she added fondly, but quickly shook it off. "How are you? Have you eaten?"
"You already know how I've been. We've written every night—"
"You know that's not the same. Not even close," Hermione interjected, sitting up and tucking her legs underneath her bottom. "Besides, I rather like hearing your voice when you're not spewing heinous things about me." Though it was intended as a joke, she blushed and he gave her a slight grin, looking mildly pleased.
"Well if you'd like me to verbalize my writings, my week's been rather brutal. And yes, I ate before coming here. Thanks for asking," he supplied dryly.
"Prat," she muttered before seating herself comfortably in his lap, spending the next few minutes in silence while he stroked her hair.
"Have you spoken to Theo?" With her head against his chest, she felt more than heard the steady breaths hitch before he responded.
"Not much. But from what I gather, it was a civil separation. He did protest against Blaise's proposition of making Wood mysteriously vanish from the face of Britain."
"I can't see that ending well for anyone," Hermione laughed, shaking her head at their antics.
"Actually, Blaise has been itching to make use of that threat," Draco corrected. "Though I suppose Theo's heart was never really in it anyways." Interest peaked, her head tilted upwards.
"How come?"
"When Theo fancies someone, it's no small matter. The man pines," he emphasized with a grimace. "It's disturbing, actually."
"It's romantic! And you're hardly the one to judge," she quipped playfully, and he looked offended.
"It's not the same," he sputtered. "Also, I don't pine—"
"Of course you don't, darling," she crooned, taking great pleasure at the slight hue of pink dusting his cheeks. "So there was someone else in the picture I take it. What happened to them?"
"They didn't." Draco cleared his throat. "She ran off," he clarified.
A woman?
Hermione gave pause, opening her mouth, and then closed it, realizing she never knew the extent of Theo's previous partners.
"She left him?"
"In a sense. They were childhood friends, and one day, they were preordained to fulfill a marriage contract courtesy of her family," he supplied coldly, fighting a sneer at the outdated concept. "Theo was elated because he'd learned he would be getting married to someone he already cared for. His betrothed on the other hand—"
"—didn't feel the same for him?"
He gave a half smile. "More that she felt she was robbed of the chance to."
She felt her heart give a tug of sympathy, feeling a sensation of solace for her friend while inattentively tightening her hold on Draco. "Poor Theo."
"Don't feel too bad for him," Draco assured dryly. "He was as much of a shit as the rest of us back then. It wasn't until she left during Sixth when he started to get his act together."
Her head jerked up.
We were close up until our Sixth year.
No. It couldn't be—
"Astoria's sister," she exhaled, unknowingly sliding from his lap.
Draco didn't answer directly. Instead, he kept talking, as if in a trance. "She never worked up the courage to tell Theo the truth — that she did care for him. Because every time she looked at him, she was reminded of what was expected of her; what was beyond her control. She wanted to make it clear to her parents that she would never submit to their bidding. So instead, she repented. Kept her distance from him, saw other people. Broke the promise to stay pure," he concluded, strangely crestfallen.
Just as he let the story carry him away, Hermione found herself distracted all at once, taking in the full impact of his seemingly detached demeanor. The certainty in the way he spoke. The details in which he was describing these events. Like he knew more of Daphne's point of view rather than Theo's. As if he'd been through it up close and personal.
Her stomach dropped.
"Daphne's the other woman," she realized, frown deepening. Again, he said nothing in reply, though he didn't need to. After Draco's insistence that it was nothing more than a mutual transaction though carnal pleasures, she left it alone, intent on dropping the subject entirely. That was before she was aware of the significance of who he'd been with.
"You slept with her knowing what she meant to him?!"
"Theo and I weren't close, and I wasn't particularly known for my morality," Draco clarified flatly, releasing a long, irritated sigh and looking very much as if he wanted to fling himself off over the balcony. "She came onto me because we happened to be the last ones leaving class one day. We talked for a bit and next thing I knew, she was pulling me into a broom cupboard. Kept saying she wanted to forget. Luckily for her, I wanted the same."
She retracted, unsure of what to make of this new information. Instead, she stared at the man — the boy — in front of her, reminding herself that these were people who grew up with different standards. Different virtues. 'It was a different time,' he'd told her.
"Did Theo know?"
"How do you think those rumours about me started in the first place?" He gave her a patronizing smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Discretion wasn't an option considering she wanted to make a point. He was furious when he found out."
Naturally, she'd heard about those rumours when Harry and Ron were going on about them in Fifth. They doubted the idea of anyone wanting someone like Malfoy. Not once did she bother questioning the truth behind them. Not until now.
"How did he manage to come around?"
Wordlessly, he held his arm out for her. She didn't bother with looking. Instead, she kept her focus upwards. Where his jaw was clenched and his glare was aimed at a random portrait. A visual tell to which truths pained him to retell. Clearly, this was one of them.
"Like the rest, once he knew what I'd been condemned to do, he realized we were on the wrong side too late," he gave a dark laugh. "Oddly enough, he gained a new respect for me afterwards."
Hermione offered a sad smile.
"You still feel guilty," she acknowledged, watching in sympathy as he clenched his hands into fists and stood from the sofa to head to the balcony. She soon followed suit, stopping a few feet behind him as he braced himself on the railing, gripping it tight. She wrapped her arms around herself as the chilly night air surrounded them like an unwelcome embrace.
"Daphne was never a supporter of the Dark Arts so we kept our personal affairs out of the arrangement," he said coldly. "Until it became unavoidable."
"Your Mark," Hermione realized, fighting a shiver at the sudden breeze. "You think you're the reason she ended up leaving—"
"I don't think. I know."
"You sought her out over the summer," she implored, gradually weaving the pieces of the story together, "—and ended up finding Astoria instead."
He nodded slowly, releasing a breath.
"I thought her and Theo could make amends now that the war was over, but neither Astoria nor their parents knew where she'd gone."
"You can't blame yourself," Hermione contested, stepping up next to him. "Her actions weren't entirely rational. She had years to talk to him and instead, she chose a self-destructive path with you. Theo's father was a Death Eater, wasn't he? Even if she went along with him, she would have been exposed to it eventually. She knew the risks. From the way it sounds, she chose to leave by her own means. It wasn't your fault."
He said nothing. His eyes were clouded over; muddy, with an aggression she didn't recognize. He was at war with himself. Despite the urge to drag him back inside, she stayed put.
"You can be rid of it completely now," Hermione offered gingerly. "Our potion, I'm fairly certain it will work—"
"I know."
"You don't want to get rid of it?"
"It's not that I don't," Draco stressed, struggling to suppress the conflict within him. "The Mark changed everything for me," he emphasized, turning on her. His jaw tightening. "I was made into an example; youngest ever sworn in. 'You should be proud,' they'd all tell me. I let myself believe it was my moment of triumph when all along, I was just another one of his pawns," he muttered bitterly. "But without it—"
When their eyes met, she saw the conflict within him.
Before, his taunts and threats were all but child's play. The Mark had made everything real. It gave him the opportunity to reform his beliefs. To make decisions for himself. To rebuild the framework of his name by means of redemption.
And as of late, it gave him a chance to turn one of his longest desires into a reality.
Hermione's lips tightened, stepping into his space with sureness and taking his tightly clenched fist into a delicate hold. At her touch, the strain on his face, the rigid back, both showed signs of softening.
"With or without the Mark, you are who you are because of the choices you've made. Keep it or part with it, it's your decision. It won't make those who value you think any less of you." She nudged his nose with her own, smiling up at him, their lips a breath apart. "I'm sure of it."
She felt him shudder against her as she kissed him with fervency, offering him to lower his shields so she could take on his demons. For a moment, she felt him surrender to her. To the safety she offered. To the compassion he oftentimes refused to indulge upon.
By the time they parted, Hermione had her next words prepared.
"Slughorn mentioned something when he stopped by," she began steadily. "He was very impressed with you—coming into his class having known as much about the potion as you did. As was I—" He quirked a brow at the sudden change in topics.
"There's no need for the flattery," he attempted but she didn't take the bait.
"At the time, I would have told you as much. Except you were determined to reject anything of the sort from me." His eyes flashed, and she knew he'd caught on. "I didn't think anything of your behavior when we were first paired together. With our history as children, I only assumed working with you as adults would be challenging." He winced and avoided her eyes. She tilted his chin up to meet her gaze, silently assuring him she knew that couldn't be further from the truth.
Still, that did not ease Draco's evident discomfort.
"Why didn't you tell me what your intentions were from the beginning?"
"Right," he scoffed. "Because that conversation would have gone over well."
"You don't know that—" she tried but he wasn't having it.
"You're right, I don't," he quipped sharply. "So I suppose it was better to avoid you entirely and pretend like nothing changed instead of hoping for more." She rolled her eyes when he essentially described exactly what had transpired.
"You could have told me," she asserted. "Instead of letting me believe you were still prejudiced, all to keep me away from the potion—"
"The potion wasn't the only reason," he supplied, his tone dark but even. "I knew about your pact with McGonagall. The last thing I wanted was to be your charity project." She felt a pang in her chest at the truth of his words. It had indeed started out that way. How she wished to assure him that was no longer the case.
"You had no reason to care," he continued curtly. "No reason to talk to me except tell me to fuck off or that I got what I deserved. Some days, I still don't understand why you wanted to help me at all."
Why, indeed. It was a question she asked herself many times in the past few months. But maybe now, she finally had the answer.
"You weren't the only one affected by our encounter in Sixth." His hand stiffened in her hold. "You were more guarded; always kept to yourself. I knew something had happened because in all the years I knew you, I'd never seen you look so," she trailed off, visualizing hollow eyes and the cracks in his shield, "—fragmented."
She felt his eyes burning into her.
"Maybe I did pity you in the beginning," she attempted, chewing her lip. "But once I stopped being in denial, I realized you were as much a victim in this as we were." She could see something in him transform at those words. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. "Even before, you were never the face I saw when I thought of the enemy. Just a spoiled brat who was a major pain in my arse," she concluded with a wry grin.
Draco laughed, and the sound rattled the cages around her heart, warming her from within.
"In my defense, I told you to stay away. And still, you kept pressing on like the stubborn bint that you are."
"You shouldn't have expected me to listen," she returned playfully.
"No, I shouldn't have." He eyed her intently before his gaze flickered to her forearm, his smile fading.
"You wore a long-sleeved blouse and a jumper to testify during my trial," her breath caught when he lifted her arm, holding it in a light, but firm, grasp. "It was nearly June," he emphasized. Slowly, he pushed up her sleeve. Their eyes fell simultaneously. No sign of blemishes. No scarring. "Your spell work is impressive," he pressed his fingers inside the crook of her elbow, moving downward. "But I don't need to see to know," she exhaled a silent gasp at him trailing along where marred edges hid beneath a delicate layer of magic, "—what still lingers," he whispered.
She stood still, unable to move as his delicate touch explored the visibly smooth surface.
"Bella was adept at magic like this. Dark and chaotic. Wholly unnatural and impossible to heal by design—"
"You couldn't have prevented this," she managed, watching his eyes flicker over her.
"I meant it when I said I wasn't expecting anything from you."
"I don't regret my decision. To use my blood," she said easily, surprising them both. "I'd do it again."
"I made my choice. But you, you never chose this," he gestured to her arm. "The potion could have gotten rid of it, once and for all. You would have been clean."
"Maybe I've come to terms with being marked. After all, without it—" she trailed off, and Draco's lips tightened.
She could still see his horrified expression the night her screams echoed through his childhood home.
They'd confided in one another, accomplished impossible feats together. She'd seen him, felt him in places no one had been before but in this particular moment, she knew this was something else — something more that neither were ready to admit just yet.
"So what, we keep our battle scars and trauma, all to say that our work was for nothing?"
"Hmm I wouldn't say it was for nothing," Hermione offered teasingly, pulling him away from the balcony and out of view before backing him into a wall, draping her arms around his neck. "I, for one, never would have thought you had it in you to be such a giving lover."
He glared at her.
"If you tell anyone, especially Potter, I'll deny it," he warned.
"What if I told Ron?" she teased.
Draco leaned in, threading his fingers through her hair and tugged until her neck was exposed. She gasped as his searing lips roved. Across her jaw. Up to her ear.
"You'll regret it," he promised huskily.
A shiver of desire ran through her. The hand on her hips squeezed as his breath misted over her neck.
"I don't think I will." At her soft mewl, he gave one of his low, indulgent laughs and lowered his head to kiss his favorite spot. Again and again, riling her up with the promise of more. Now that their potion was complete and stable, they didn't have to worry about accidentally setting it off.
She could easily close her eyes, let her head fall back and let him take what she was all but willing to give. Except it was already late.
"We should head back," he mumbled, practically reading her thoughts.
"We should," she agreed reluctantly and still, he continued downward, nudging fabric away from her collarbone. She bit her lip when he migrated to the buttons of her blouse, managing to get one open before a mirthful laugh fell from her lips. "Remember what I said about mixed signals?"
"Can't help it," he said between kisses. "You're so," Another button went, revealing edges of lace, "—fucking," he lowered the cup slightly, "—delectable."
She gasped sharply when he flicked the tip of his tongue out, teasing the peak of her nipple before taking it between his lips. Her grip tightened in his hair as she groaned, and taking it as encouragement, he dove in, tasting and licking her breast as he held her close, molding her body to his.
"Draco," she sighed regretfully at the feel of him stiff against her stomach. "I want to, but we really do need to go." At that, he finally ceased.
With a wicked grin, he released her breast with a quiet pop, relinquishing his hold on her while flashing her a dashing smile. And with shaky legs, she managed backed away from the wall and proceeded to fix up his handy work.
"We'll celebrate appropriately, after the game this weekend," she offered while fastening the final button.
His eyes jerked to her. "You're coming?"
"Of course I am," she said factly. "Why wouldn't I?"
His jaw slackened. "I assumed since Gryffindor wasn't playing—"
He trailed off, and she blinked.
"You do realize I saved your life at a game Gryffindor wasn't playing in."
"Didn't Red practically force you to go?" he recalled flippantly. "So really, I should be thanking her—"
Hermione clenched her jaw.
"—point aside, yes, I will be there this weekend."
An alluring smirk spread across his face, grey eyes darkening as they roved over her body.
"Does that mean you'll be wearing green for me?"
She wanted to retort that she would, in fact, be wearing Hufflepuff colours just to toy with him. But the conversation revolving around the idea of her wearing green was still fresh in her mind. Incidentally, she burst into laugher. He looked at her quizzically.
"Sorry, you just reminded me of something." He said nothing, waiting for her to clarify. "Your lot told me they made these silly bets on what profession I would take on after Hogwarts."
He raised a brow, smirking. "Did they?"
"Mm. I got to hear about Blaise's enlightening philosophy on why I should be a healer."
His smirk deepened. "Ah yes, the uniforms."
"For Merlin's sake, not you too," she groaned.
"Oh Granger," he purred. "I am but a man. And rightfully so, I've envisioned you in a variety of things. Oftentimes, in less."
A bright flush appeared on her cheeks.
"You're incorrigible," she mumbled, turning around to gather her belongings. She could hear him chuckling while recalling another fragment of that same conversation. "They also told me that you've been distant lately."
"I thought we were in agreement," he said exasperated, already aware of where this was going.
"We are," she added quickly. "I'm not saying we should tell everyone. Only that maybe we should entertain the notion of expanding our circle a bit," she suggested. "It's hardly fair that my friends know about us but yours still don't know."
He stepped up next to her with his bag in hand.
"Wait. Friends?"
Somehow it completely slipped her mind that he didn't know about Luna.
"Oh. Right. Luna knows now, but I swear I didn't tell her. She could sense our auras were different. You see, she has this moon frog friend—" every word she spoke, she could see his befuddlement deepening. "Nevermind, it's not important. What's important is that I don't want to be the reason you're occluding from your friends."
In an instant, his expression hardened.
"I'm not coming at you. I do appreciate what you're doing for me. For us," she assured. "But you shouldn't have to hide your feelings from them when all they've wanted is for you to be happy."
"I'll give it some thought," he decided begrudgingly. "You know they're going to be absolutely insufferable when we do tell them," he informed, already visibly dreading it.
"Oh, I'm counting on it." Hermione beamed at him as they approached the door. "Who knows, maybe next time they place bets on me, you can actually participate."
He paused mid-step. "What?"
At his quizzical expression, she clarified. "They told me you wouldn't take their little bet seriously."
Realization dawned upon him, and he chuckled while opening the door for her to step out into the tower.
"Only because they didn't like my response." The door clicked shut behind them and they walked alongside each other, preparing to enjoy the silence of empty corridors and lack of prying eyes.
"What did you tell them?"
His lips twitched upwards, sparing her a side glance.
"I told them you could do damn well anything you wanted to."