fervere

Chapter Forty Five 

There was a stillness that fell over the room, eyes widened at the boy who shouldered himself in. Draco avoided looking at anyone directly, as if his own eyes would betray him, showing the insecurity that suddenly hit him at reaction of the announcement. 

Draco took in a deep silent breath to ground himself, taking into account the advice his mother gave him. If he was going to get attention, he might as well command what people were going to focus on.  

And people were going to focus on this.

It’s been decades since the last time a Head Boy wasn’t a Seventh Year. The feat was almost unimaginable to most and somehow Draco had been able to achieve it. 

Katie let out a nervous giggle as Draco approached her, a small stiff smile was the best he could do to show that he was indeed apologetic for being a minute late. He had set out with enough time but he kept on bumping into people, mainly girls, wanting to strike up a conversation. The headache that had been plaguing him was finally weening off a bit and was not at all helped with the eager attention he was getting on his walk down.

He took the paper Katie had offered him. It was a bullet point list of things they needed to quickly announce.  

Draco cleared his throat and squinted at the text. He licked his lips nervously, not catching on that there was a collective soft inhale at the micro gesture. That headache burned at his eyes again and Draco began to wonder if he was going to have to need some reading glasses to get through this year. 

Draco glanced up, scanned over until his eyes found Hermione, who had her arms crossed and had a pointed look on her face. She trained her eyes on Ron who was whispering something over to Daphne. A wave of softness washed over Draco after a brutal two months without her.  

Her hair was longer and it looked like her curls were bigger, wavier even. She must have a bit of make up on because he couldn’t keep his eyes off her cheeks and lashes and those lips. It was all perfectly balanced on her scowling face- 

He ripped his eyes off her when Hermione caught him staring. He cleared his throat.

Draco was fully aware he hadn’t written to Hermione all this summer and, despite not realizing that he was waiting for her letters first, he had to assumed they both held back.  

Hoping the other would write first.  

Draco felt the odd feeling that if Hermione was at all disgruntled, then she must care. Something about having her bothered and angry at him made Draco break into an odd smile.  

“Now that we are all here, I want to welcome all the new Prefects to our group, congratulations on being selected for your house. It is a great honor to have you join us.” Katie finished off and gave Draco an expectant look to carry his weight for their first meeting. 

Draco ran his hand through his blonde locks, “We have meetings the first day of the month, regardless of the day. Attendance is mandatory. No exceptions. We gather to reassign patrolling days and talk about any concerns or future activities that might pop up. Thankfully, it seems like this year is projected to be less, um, eventful.” 

They all shared a quiet laugh.  

“Before we get into the perks, we do need to discuss our roles,” Katie stole a glance at Draco, “This year, we finally have a decent patrolling schedule. We also are trying to revive our tutoring services so if anyone is interested in helping out the younger students, please let us know as soon as possible. We'd love to kick start the program in October. Fifth Years, please do not feel the need to volunteer since you’ll be busy with OWLs this year.” 

“For our first meeting, we need to assign the most pressing matters. We need four volunteers for train patrol,” Draco joined in, looking over a clipboard that Katie Bell handed over to him, “We need one representative for each house to lead your first years into your house after dinner, and typically two more Prefects to take the morning or the evening for First Year orientation. Last, we need about four Prefects for the first patrol of the night.” 

“Tonight doesn’t include the days you wish to select for our weekly patrols,” Katie Bell cut in.  

Draco smiled, “I have the sign-up sheet here for September patrols, please select two days out of the week you’d feel most comfortable with. There should be at least six Prefects patrolling each night. If you have any concerns or disagreements for days that are already filled up, please let me or Katie know.”  

“As for tonight’s Patrol,” Katie reminded, “We doubt that anyone would be willing to be out of bed on the first night back. But we don’t mind to have a few more on duty.” 

The room was usually still. Katie laughed nervously.  

“Volunteers?” Katie smiled but looked more like a wince. Truth of the matter is no one wanted to patrol after traveling all day and then eating a full meal. Everyone wanted to go straight to bed after dinner. 

Draco’s tongue poked into his cheek as he resisted trying to seem like he was taking one for the team. He had ulterior motives to volunteer. He lifted his hand, “I can take the first night patrol.” 

Hermione glanced up at Draco’s side profile and a sense of debilitating tingles filled her chest. It was a revolting kind of sensation, thrilling and dreadful at the same time. Like it was her undoing and she would gladly suffer through the end for a morsel of his attention. The muscles in Hermione’s crossed arms tightened. It was now becoming a problem the more she stared at Draco.  

The nerve of him looking so handsome.  

There was something that flickered in Hermione’s heart when Draco announced he would take tonight’s patrol. She wanted to volunteer and see if he would break and approach her in the corridors but she also wanted to be aloof like Daphne coached her to make Draco grovel.  

Unfortunately, while her thoughts were on which version of herself Hermione wanted to present, she hadn’t quite mastered being proactive enough as nine hands immediately shot up to volunteer for the night patrol too.  

Not surprisingly, they were all girls.  

Hermione and Daphne all looked around at the eager volunteers wanting to have a chance at patrolling with Draco.  

Hermione raised her hand, looking rather defeated “Train Patrol.” 

Daphne and Ron followed suit, volunteering for train patrol as well.  

Katie and Draco jotted down the rest of the day’s roles while the patrol sign-up list made it’s rounds.  Daphne leaned over to whisper to Hermione as she took Sunday and Monday for her patrol dates.  

“He looks rather different.” Daphne mused, “Think it’s the title of Head Boy that’s got these girls feral?” 

Hermione’s face hardened. Draco was fully aware of how attractive he’s gotten, for sure. The bitter assumption that he deserved someone better suited for him irked the back of Hermione’s insecurities. Hermione signed the last letters of her last name and handed the list over to Daphne. She smirked and wrote herself down for Saturday and Sunday which didn’t make Ron happy at all. 

“I thought the weekend would be-” Ron began. 

“I can’t do Tuesdays and Thursdays, Ron,” Daphne sighed out in exasperation, “I practically had to beg Madam Pomfrey to allow me to volunteer at the Hospital Wing this year. I’m not exactly thrilled to be cleaning sheets and organizing medicines but I’m serious about getting a mentorship at St. Mungo’s.” 

Ron pouted which caused Daphne to immediately soften, giving Ron a soft long peck as an apology. 

“We’ll figure a better schedule in October,” Daphne pecked him again at the sheepish look that melted Ron’s face. It gave Hermione a rather strange bitter feeling seeing her friends so fully in love. Hermione resisted from gazing upon Draco. He was still in a full fledge conversation with Katie who seemed rather surprised as if she didn’t expect Draco to be who he was. 

Perhaps, Hermione thought, Katie Bell was discovering how clever and bright Draco was. The idea of more girls finding out how perfect he was, besides his drastic change over the summer, watered the seed of insecurity in Hermione. She only hoped it didn't take root.

It made Hermione feel even shittier that she begged him to write and she spent her entire summer waiting to hear from him. Obviously he wouldn’t want to write to some stupid schoolmate when he probably met someone during the summer. Maybe some older witch in his town, or from another school, or from his party.  

He did say he was having a Sixteenth Reception, didn’t he? Maybe his mother found him a better match after he came home single. The affair did remind Hermione like the aristocratic traditions of debuting for the marriage market.

Hermione recalled the train back home, now two months ago. Draco stumbled into their compartment stuffed with Ginny, Neville, Harry, Ron and Daphne. Draco managed to squeeze himself in the small space next to Hermione. If it wasn’t for Daphne nearly sitting on Ron’s lap, Hermione thought it would have been her on Draco’s. 

The idea thrilled her but she settled for their sides stuck together.  

The topic of his break up was brought on by Crabbe and Goyle who stumbled in, raved by the news, which made for a tighter squeeze, opting to sit on the floor.  

Draco had lifted his arm to rest behind Hermione’s seat. Her heart raced.  

They all teased Draco, congratulating him for finally leaving Millie and Draco took it well enough. It almost made Hermione think they maybe... she had a chance, which is why she even wrote the very next day. She knew he wouldn’t immediately run to her after leaving Millie but Hermione wanted to make sure that Draco still had the option.  

She was still his, if he wanted. 

That tingling sensation came back and Hermione finally understood that she yearned for him and the pain that came with it was the fear that she was just possibly too late for him to return his feelings. 

The meeting adjourned soon after.  

Hermione fumbled with her robe, pinning her prefect badge so it laid flat and straight on her chest. She purposefully lingered behind, hoping to time a second of Draco’s time to speak to him but he was immediately bombarded with all the Fifth Year Prefects, dying for his attention.  

Daphne stayed to help Hermione with her pin while Ron took it upon himself to being the train patrol.  

She flipped her blonde hair off her shoulders, now tousled and carefree.  

“Quite the difference, ey?” Daphne smiled grabbing the pin from Hermione’s pricked fingers.  

Hermione let out one dry chuckle and shrugged, “I suppose we all grew over the summer.” 

It hadn’t escaped Hermione’s notice that Ron was also even taller, more freckly, when she arrived at the Burrow a week ago. He didn’t look as toned as Draco but he certain also grew into a thicker, more masculine body with thick broad shoulders and bigger thighs.  

Ron and Harry had spent an enormous amount of time that week just flying around with Ginny playing quidditch. 

Daphne approved of her boyfriend’s changes, casting sly glances at him. The more time she spent dating Ron, the more Daphne assured herself that she was head over heels in love with her boyfriend and happy it worked out for her.  

If only Daphne could rub that luck off on the two most annoying people in her life.   

Daphne wasn’t oblivious to the stolen glances Draco would take at Hermione from the corner of his eye. 

“Well no doubt he’ll have the attention of most girls,” Hermione frowned.  

Daphne gave her an assuring smile, “I’m sure he only wants one.” 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- 

The volunteers of the first night were deeply saddened at their mistaken assumption that they’d be able to spend a bit of time strolling around the corridors late at night with the hottest bachelor of Sixth Year.  

With the amount of help available to Draco, he quickly assigned areas for each Prefect girl to monitor. He didn’t hesitate at assigning the roles as he had enough time during dinner to jot it down on his paper napkin with the help of Daphne.  

“Should I volunteer too?” She smirked sipping on her pumpkin juice, “I reckon you need someone to fight off all these eager girls.” 

Draco gave her a genuine smile, “Actually.” 

“I was joking,” Daphne’s voice went flat.  

Draco leaned over to quietly let her know he needed to speak to Dumbledore, which is why he volunteered at all in the first place. Daphne sighed but understood.  

“I’ll keep an eye out for you,” Daphne pouted, “I’m sure the castle will be safe with nine feral girls running around in search for you...” 

Once dinner concluded and all the houses raced to their dorms for a good nights race, all the Prefects volunteering for the nights patrol gathered right outside the Great Hall. They had been eager until Draco handed out their assigned areas, the nine girls awkwardly stood around just as Draco informed them they could head towards their dorms right at ten to get a good night’s rest.  

One of the Fifth Year Prefects, Romilda Vane, raised her hand begging for a question.  

“Yes...” Draco cleared his throat.  

“Romilda Vane,” She repeated throwing him her best incandescent smile, “Um, I’m just curious w-what area you will be concentrating on.” 

Draco exchanged looks with Daphne, who he assigned guarding the Headmaster’s Tower for him. 

“I can’t say,” Draco slowly pieced together, “I’ll be everywhere and nowhere at the same time to keep you on your toes.” 

“Alright let’s get this over with,” Daphne clapped twice, “Chop chop, let’s make the best of the next two hours of complete silence and creepy corridors, whoo!” 

The girls slowly trudged away and Draco glared down at Daphne.  

“Could you lay it on any thicker?” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose at the light aggravating pain that shot into the center of his eye sockets. 

“You’re wasting time,” Daphne said in an annoying sing song voice, “Go do what you’re supposed to be doing while I sacrifice my first night back for you, when I could have been cuddling with Ron, oh. Great, yeah, walk away Malfoy. You owe me!” 

With Daphne keeping an eye on the Prefects and his path cleared, Draco made his way up to the Headmaster’s Tower.  

He had a lot on his mind to dive into and the only peace of mind he had ever gotten from the adults in his life was Dumbledore. It was a bit awkward since Draco hadn’t had a lot of time with him last year but he hoped the bond wasn’t strained.  

Draco had a feeling that if Snape knew of Voldemort’s plan, then it made sense that Dumbledore was now aware of it and it couldn’t be at all comfortable welcoming in someone who is projected to be their murderer.  

Nevertheless, it all felt too familiar reporting back to the Headmasters Office on the very first night of the school year.  

Draco stood in his school robes, with the Head Boy Pin precisely in the middle of the left side of his robe. All four houses were intertwined to form a bronze H in the middle of his pin.  

“Mr. Malfoy, what do I owe this pleasure?” Dumbledore smiled kindly at him, for once not at his desk. He was on foot, by a silver looking platter that gave off an ominous sort of glow. 

His kindness was only accentuated by the years of winkles around his eyes and smile lines that only told of his happier times and for once Draco saw the age in him. Dumbledore had always been old to him, of course, but he had this grandiose air about him that made him feel everlasting.  

Now, hunched over this basin, he seemed rather drained. Did Draco catch him at a bad time? Was he tired? 

It distracted Draco enough to have Dumbledore pick up on it. 

“I see the concern in your eyes Draco,” Dumbledore let out a soft chuckle, “Rest assure that Snape is doing everything in his power to keep me around as long as possible even with the targets on my back.” 

“You’ve spoken to him,” Draco asked, watching his professor carefully. Draco hated to be so vague but it seemed with Dumbledore, he knew exactly what Draco was thinking.  

“I have,” He confirmed.  

“About everything,” Draco asked, trying to confirm, and Dumbledore slowly nodded.  

“About it all, I believe.” He finished. 

A hard knot lodged up in Draco throat.  

“I’m sorry professor,” He whispered, trying his best to not lose out to the quiver in his chin, “I didn’t realize I’d- I don’t want to.” 

“Then I suppose it is safe to assume that it’s not an easy choice to walk away.” Dumbledore said simply and Draco had to show his Headmaster why that was.   

Draco very methodically reached his right hand over to the cuff of his left, unbuttoning it to begin to roll up his sleeve, exposing the Dark Mark that still looked freshly carved into his tanned forearm. Dumbledore’s face faltered. 

It was the first time Draco had ever seen him truly surprised.  

“Ah,” He gave him a sorrowful smile, “I suspected that Severus was a bit too overzealous in assuming you accepted the task that easily. He thought you easily fell for the threat against your families lives.” 

Draco gulped, “He didn’t know?” 

Dumbledore took a moment to respond, before he shook his head, “It would make sense that Severus was entrusted with Voldemort’s plans, but not exactly on how he was going to rope you in... You’ve been inducted for that very reason?” 

Draco gulped, “Yes.” 

“The summoning?” Dumbledore asked, he began to wobble over to his desk, in a way Draco had never seen him before.  

“My home,” Draco said with a tinge of embarrassment, “For my Sixteenth Reception.” 

Dumbledore scoffed lightly, “Of course, not a bad cover for them to gather. The Oath and the Baptism?” 

Draco wasn’t quite sure so he paused to which Dumbledore jumped at the opportunity to explain.  

“Did you drink a potion?” He asked.  

Draco nodded, “Yes. I was told it helps the Branding. Numbed me.” 

“That would be the venom from his snake, Nagini.” Dumbledore lightly informed although his eyes carried a heavy sadden in them. Dumbledore cleared his throat, brandishing his wand to levitate a pot of hot tea to him, “Lemon tea?” 

Draco refused with a gentle shake of his head. He didn’t dare to asked how Dumbledore knew the steps of Initiation. 

Dumbledore continued, “I hate to ask but the Trial of Worth?”  

There it was.  

Dumbledore was asking how far did Draco push his powers to prove to Voldemort he was capable. How much darkness Draco could conjured within him so he could show Voldemort he was willing to darken his own soul in submission to him. 

Draco hung his head in shame. 

“I-” 

“You don’t need to speak of it if you don’t want to,” Dumbledore squeezed his eyes almost as if he was mourning the break in Draco’s soul.  

“I do need to speak to you about it,” Draco let out an uncomfortable smile, “Because my houseelf, Sephina.” 

There was a pop behind Draco and he smiled even more genuinely, “She needs a place to hide.” 

Sephina quietly made her way up to the back of Draco’s legs and poked her head out from behind him. She bowed her head deeply at Dumbledore.  

“It is an honor to meet a great Wizard like yourself, Sir Dumbledore.” Sephina sniffed, “Draco has told Sephina much about you.” 

“Sephina will insist she can make a fine home living in my school trunk, but I think it’s better if she can have a bit of direction. If she stays with me, I fear that she’d want to continue catering to me. Defeats the purpose of a free elf.” 

Dumbledore’s kind blue eyes snapped up at Draco begging for an explanation and he dove straight into his summer.  

How his aunt forced him to practice his curses on his houseelves, how he was increasingly unsuccessful in his pursuits and the way it worried his mother and aunt.  

Draco was aware that he needed to present to Voldemort and prove his worth. Draco knew he couldn’t quite be the Deatheater his father bet his life on, so he took on Sephina’s last minute suggestion to pretend to be tortured or die, if she needed to.  

It would help Draco gain Voldemort’s confidence and she could finally flee his home. For good. 

Dumbledore was in awe.  

“You pulled the wool over Voldemort’s eyes?” Dumbledore looked fascinated, “That simply?” 

“Sephina made me realize something when she brought up her idea. With all my occlumency lessons I’ve had,” Draco began, rubbing his forehead at another wave of dull pain rocking his head, “When I was at my most vulnerable to Voldemort during the sumon, he could have easily tried to get into my head but he didn’t. He didn’t even realize how valuable of an instrument I am to further his persecution of my family. He could have killed us all the night of my Sixteenth Reception if he knew of my role.” 

Dumbledore caught on.  

“He overlooked- He doesn’t see you as a threat.” Dumbledore smiled, “Genius.” 

“Why would he suspect a student, like myself, have any kind of life experience to manipulate him?” Draco began shift his weight around on his feet nervously, “I must admit that I thought the plan was wildly juvenile, too simple. Yet, that is exactly why he hadn’t bothered to use legilimency on me. As long as he sees me as a useless, benign, I can buy some time to figure something out so I... don’t have to kill you, sir.” 

The words rung out and the truth hung awkwardly above them. What was stranger was that Dumbledore looked relieved. He was happy that Draco’s soul was still intact.  

“I knew it was wise to select you as Head Boy,” Dumbledore lifted his blackened fingers to his temple, “And your plan? To murder me?” 

Draco was shocked at the state of Dumbledore's hand but was even more caught off guard at his question. He inhaled sharply, “I- I don’t! That’s the point. I want to stall as much as possible, Professor. ” 

Dumbledore sighed, “That’s no fun but I suppose it is for the better. It can’t be fun to know how one will die.” 

“Professor!” Draco exclaimed. Dumbledore chuckled.  

Draco frowned seeing how lightly Dumbledore was reacting to the matters of his own murder, “If I was able to slip by the Trial of Worth then this First Mission, I believe I can figure something out as well. Fool Voldemort twice.” 

Dumbledore sat still, digesting the information.  

“I am confident that you will figure something out. As for Sephina, your houseelf," The Headmaster offered, "Would you mind if she stays here at Hogwarts while we figure something out, paid of course."

Sephina, who had been rather quiet observing their discussion, squeaked. Draco nodded earnestly.

“Oh, Sir?” Draco pipped up suddenly, his mind jumping into another related topic, “Would it be possible to refrain from telling anyone in the Order?” 

He quickly began to roll his sleeve down, hiding his Dark Mark once again as if he was in danger of someone popping out from behind him. 

Draco winced, “I think it’s best to keep this going like it’s an actual plan. I worry if too many people know, the greater the chance my true alligence will be leaked... and somehow get back to Voldemort.” 

“And your friends?” Dumbledore cocked his head. Draco opened his mouth and then closed it, looking like a fish out of water.  

“If it is necessary,” Draco began, “Then yes, but I rather not worry or burden them. It is my cross to bear. I also don’t want them to treat me any differently, sir.” 

“You shouldn’t underestimate your friend’s acceptance. How’s your head?” Dumbledore suddenly asked.  

It was a rather strange but direct question especially when Draco considered that he had been inconvenienced by these revolting headaches recently.  

“Erm,” Draco parted his mouth in surprise, “Actually, not well. I suspect I might need reading glasses this year. It keep getting these terrible aches.” 

“That’ll be the potion from the Baptism,” Dumbledore lightly jumped the second he remembered he had a pot of tea still seeping for him. He poured himself a cup and offered Draco with a gesture, one more time just in case. Draco shook his head.  

Dumbledore continued, “The potion sticks within you for about a year. It’s supposed to bring out your most primal instincts to aid you in successfully completing your first mission.” 

“Primal instincts?” Draco questioned.  

Dumbledore cleared his throat awkwardly, “It’ll exacerbate your needs and desires. The purpose of it is to push you. A new Deatheater will feel the rush of persistence to complete their task. But it also bleeds into other areas in life. For you, I’d imagine academic pursuits, Quidditch, your social circles will have a change. You'll have the motivation of a roaring fire to complete any assignment placed in front of you. Um, unfortunately that drive also hits other areas so considering the young man you are...” 

Draco tilted his eyes to the side, catching sight of a hooded figure that just entered Dumbledore’s office.  

Snape.  

“Headmaster?” Professor Snape called out, glaring at Draco as a formality. It was clear he hadn’t suspected to find Draco in the Headmaster’s office. He walked briskly in with a potion he handed carefully to Dumbledore. Draco had an inkling that it had something to do with his withering hand. 

“Ah, thank you Severus, very kind of you. If I could ask you for one more favor,” Dumbledore lightly chuckled, “I think we would all benefit if you could please brew Draco a month’s worth of the Inhibition Potion,” Dumbledore asked. This news caused Snape to whip his neck to look back at Draco.  

“Whatever for?” Snape cleared his throat.  

Dumbledore sighed out, “You very well know why. You took it as well, as a new Deatheater many years ago, did you not? I also believe it’s best to control the frenzy as he is a teenaged boy.” 

Snape’s jaw firmed.  

“Very well,” Snape gulped and turned to Draco, “I believe you still have about an hour left on your first patrol. Get to it.” 

“Feel free to come anytime you need Draco,” Dumbledore called out as Snape led Draco out, “Have a good night.” 

Once in the cool damp corridors of the castle, Snape nearly pushed Draco up against the smooth stone walls.  

“You were inducted?” He asked hissing. Draco hung his head, avoiding his sharp eyes. It was enough of an answer. Snape rolled his eyes up in pain, “Of course, it only makes the entire thing more binding.” 

“I thought you knew,” Draco muttered. His mother assured him that Snape would aid him in smuggling in some precarious items that would have surely raised alarms if found. Just a few hours ago when they arrive at Hogsmeade Station, Snape had been there to inspect Draco’s belongs and give him a pass.  

“Wasn’t it you who suggested I be up for position of Head Boy?” Draco grumbled, “I can only assume that is why Dumbledore even thought of me as an option. If it wasn’t for your meddling-” 

Snape’s eyes flickered in retreat.  

“It wasn’t much competition in the Seventh Years,” Snape retorted, “Between you and them, it was the most practical choice.” 

“And it wouldn’t have anything to do with the perk that Heads have a considerably less amount of work to do than Prefects?” Draco tested.  

Snape cleared his throat, “I beg you to weigh the lackluster four. Davies, McLaggan, Tate, and even your own Bletchley against your own achievements. I might have put the idea in Dumbledore’s head but not because I thought it would aid in your pursuit of his demise, but because objectively speaking, you were the best pick.” 

What Draco didn’t know was that Snape had been privy to the plans of Dumbledore’s Assassination before his mother came to him. Yes, he might have had reason to suggest Draco as a selection but Snape still didn’t have enough influence over the final rule of the Headmaster. 

But after learning more about Draco’s situation, Snape was relieved he had, somewhat, intervened. 

The fact that Voldemort omitted the truth of Draco's induction meant that Snape still didn’t have Voldemort’s full confidence in him.  

And that was worrisome.  

Snape needed to speak to Dumbledore once again. He lightly pushed Draco back to the center of the corridor, forcing him to walk. 

“I’ll have the potion ready for you at breakfast.” Snape sighed, “And I’ll send over the vat of Inhibition Potion to your Office. Now go. And try to avoid any of the girls running around looking for you. You’ll understand why you need to drink it if you don’t heed my warning.” 

Draco stood blankly for a long stretch of a moment. 

"My office?"

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- 

The Forget-Me-Not Elixir is the strongest potion used to combat wiped memories. Although scholars still haven’t figured out how to precisely use it in combination of other aids, it is well perceived that it is instrumental in unlocking memories for those who have been afflicted with memory loss. 

Hermione sheepishly looked around, hoping that nobody had spotted her reading another book during their History lesson.  

It was only the first lesson of the day and Professor Binn had been successful in putting both Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs to sleep. 

It was slightly irritating for Hermione. 

The more she read about memories and how difficult it was she also wished she could have got the Healer route and have a more precise curriculum to freely study this instead of adding on to her work load. She didn’t want to suffer like she did last year.  

She read on.

For more information on the Forget-Me-Not Elixir please refer to Chiro: A guide to Advance Magical Medical Practices. 

Hermione pouted. Great. Another book to search for.  

She couldn’t believe she was even having those thoughts.  

Hermione then flipped to another chapter she had been curious about. It had to do about routine or recreating instances to jog someone's memory. The only problem is that she had no clue how to recreate a memory she didn’t have and it’s not like she could casually stroll into the Ministry again and attempt to sneak in.  

The nagging idea she had, the one she thought would be brilliant to use to strike up a conversation with Draco, began to be a better option.

Except, Hermione desperately wanted to be nothing like all the other girls who were going up to Draco to have a second of his time.  

All throughout breakfast that very morning, Hermione had to witness the ridiculousness of a line forming next to Draco just to say good morning to him as he ate a muffin. It wasn’t until Snape came along to slam a small cup for Draco to drink did the girls scatter away after a harsh word from the new Defense Against the Dark Arts’ professor.  

Hermione didn’t want to be ridiculed that way. No. She’d never use the excuse to ask Draco if he found out how his father was able to bypass the security measures around the Department of Mysteries... 

Hermione shifted in her seat.  

She imagined the last thing Draco wouldn’t want to talk about is his incarcerated father.  

The suspense was killing her.  

She didn’t want to think of when they would eventually strike up their first conversation but she couldn’t help it.  

Hermione certainly didn’t want to make the first move because she knew her face would betray her, infuriated with how he was making her feel, anxious and nervous, needy and wanton, and seething that he was so... hot. 

She slammed the book closed and huffed. 

Her fingers drummed on the cover, while her other hand propped her head up from under her chin watching the last minutes of class play out. Professor Binn’s class was extraordinarily bland for their first lesson. 

When the class finally concluded, Hermione thanked Professor Binn and raced out of the classroom.  Her nose was stuffed into her class schedule.  

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- 

Draco stood around the courtyard surrounded by new and old faces. The familiar one’s stood behind him, as Draco volleyed a quaffle between his two hands.  

“Quidditch Try-outs will be tomorrow afternoon,” Draco announced, “As this year’s captain-” 

Goyle whooped in support.  

“I need all new faces to understand that I only really need to fill in one spot as a chaser.” Draco looked around the new hopefuls.

There was about ten second years ready with their brooms the tinge of desperation was now replaced with disappointment. Eight third and fourth years hung around, with their chest puffed out ready to make an impression. While there was only one Sixth Year trying out and it was Theodore Nott.  

None of the fifth years had seem interested to try out as they had OWLs to focus on and most of the Seventh Years had long lost interest in their final year, especially when they were refreshing their minds to study for NEWTs. 

Draco tried to give an encouraging smile to the disheartened second years.  

“Try outs will start at five thirty in the afternoon, after classes. Please don’t worry if you don’t have a full practice uniform but please have your own broom. Personal or school owned. Don’t be late.” Draco said before he dismissed the nearly twenty hopefuls.  

Draco turned to his teammates who hung out behind him, casting a rather curious look at Draco.  

Pucey took a bite of an apple and gestured to Theo who lightly hung about, “So... welcome to the team Nott.” 

They all shared a knowing laugh and Draco winced at the thought of prematurely having Nott announced as their new chaser. It’s not that Draco didn’t think he’d make a good fit. He was confident Nott would. It was the fact that Draco wanted to make sure he was a fair Captain.  

Draco sent them a glare, “Don’t be too confident.” 

Nott smiled faltered.  

“If I find a rather fiery keeper, I might trade in,” Draco shrugged, “You never know if there’s a younger better version in that lot.” 

Crabbe and Goyle smirked as Warrington let out a long gasp.  

“You wouldn’t!” Warrington, snatched the Quaffle from Draco, “And if we all agree there’s a first year with a bunch of stupid black hair and a scar on his forehead that’s a much better seeker than you?” 

Draco shrugged, “Then I wouldn’t mind trying out for a Chaser position.”  

The group of six, plus Theo began to rough house Draco playfully. Draco laughed pushing his mates off him and tossed the red Quaffle around lightly.  

They all shared a bit of their ideas of what drills to run tomorrow and what they were going to do with those poor second years.  

“Why not pick out a secondary team?” Theo suggested, “You know like benched players but in hopes that by training with us and watching us they’ll have a rather decent team by the time we all leave.”  

Draco frowned, but was mildly impressed.  

“Not bad, Nott,” Draco smirked tossing the quaffle at him, Theo caught the ball proudly and shrugged.  

“I mean right now the team is mainly... Six? Seventh Years? We’re already in trouble if we think about losing Warrington, Pucey, and Bletchley next year.” Theo pointed out, “It wouldn’t be such a bad idea to start really training those replacements.” 

Bletchley flung his arm around Theo and poked into his side.  

“Already sucking up to the captain, are we?” Bletchley teased, “Afraid your spot is on the line with some ruddy third year?” 

They all shared a laugh and then suddenly a tossing game picked up. Draco let out a sigh of relief, feeling a lot better since he started school. The weight of his summer problems felt so far away that he had little concern for them at the moment.  

It wasn’t that he was forgetting his objective of stalling and finding a better way to carve a new path for himself. Draco was just happy to be away from it all. From his aunt. From the expectations.  

Even if it was just for a second, Draco wanted to enjoy his life like he should be. A carefree student. That’s what he deserved.  

“So I think what I’m gonna do is the Owl Spin, you know that one move?” Theo’s voice rang out, “The one the Egyptians use? It’s like you’re on the broom, right? And then you jump off to catch a slightly misaimed throw and then... I’ll show you.” 

Theo whirled around and found Draco with the quaffle. Theo patted his chest. 

“Draco!” Theo called out with a wave at, “Throw the quaffle towards me but like... twenty feet away, that way.” 

“Why?” Draco questioned, his eyes flickering to the direction in which he pointed at 

“I wanna show the guys the Owl Spin,” Theo enthusiastically said. Draco’s face scrunched up.  

“But you’re on land,” He retorted.  

“Just throw it!” Theo begged and the pointed once again how far he wanted Draco to throw. Draco sighed pulling back his arm to throw. The quaffle launched into the air, arching over to the area that Theo was now running towards, at full sprint. 

Out of nowhere, students began to flood the courtyard, meaning that Draco's free period was now over if the first block of classes were just released. Draco was about to bitch and moan over having to go to his Divination’s class when he saw the Quaffle collide into the face of a glossy haired girl.  

Draco’s heart stopped and then his stomach lurched when he saw Theo’s body quite literally tackle Hermione to the ground.  

Books, quills, and parchment flew into the air.  

Draco was already by her side, nearly dragging Theo off of Hermione who was spewing a million apologies a minute. 

Her hand immediately cupped her cheek, heat radiating out in pain. She glared up to find a shadow looming over her and then his voice nearly sent a shock threw her system when Draco swiftly picked her up and steadied her on her feet. 

“Are you alrig-” 

Hermione gasped at a shooting pain that branched out like lighting at her shoulder. Her bad shoulder.  

“Granger!” Theo shouted nearly shoving Draco aside. The rather handsome Nott twisted his features as he looked over Hermione, being the culprit of not catching the quaffle and running into Hermione a second too late.  

“I’m so sorry!” Theo winced, “I didn’t think anyone was going to walk right in the middle of our... doesn’t matter. Are you okay? Do you want me to accompany you to the Hospital Wing?” 

Hermione licked her lips, still trying to process what had happened and the fact that Draco was looming over her with a look of concern. She scoffed.  

“I can take her,” Draco offered, “I threw the quaffle.” 

Theo scoffed, “Yeah, threw it straight at her face! Where’s your apology?” 

Draco was taken aback and Theo brazenness.  

“She practically walked into it!” Draco combatted, “She has eyes! You’re telling me Granger couldn’t see she was walking into the middle of a game of catch.” 

The nerve of him to suggest it was her fault at all!  

Hermione flashed her glare at him now infuriated that after months of silence and their first interaction Draco was going to be so callous with her. Hermione regretted having the gall to even entertain these fuzzy feelings that were slowly infecting her.  

“I’m fine,” Hermione muttered, bending down to pick up her things she had dropped. Theo immediately fell to his knees to fetch the books strewn around to hand over to her. Hermione quietly thanked him and marched off, her skirt squishing back and forth as her hips swayed quick in her getaway. 

Draco’s felt his gut flop around, inwardly groaning at the impossible idea that Hermione had grown to be even more beautiful over the summer. How was he going to survive this year without being tempted to cross that line? He didn’t need to complicate his already complicated life. 

“Wow,” Theo whispered out, “I think I’m in love.” 

Draco’s face fell whirling towards Theo who had a love stricken look on his face.  

A rise of feuding rivalry bubbled inside Draco, but not the full extent his heart was screaming out over. It was like it had a muzzle over it. 

The Inhibition Potion.  

He had drunk a shot of it that morning without issue. It was a relief to know that it tasted like candied sour apples. Most of the potions Draco was used to drinking made him hesitate, anticipating the painful swallow.  

Even with the suppressant in him, Draco felt awakened in him the foe he was now facing. 

Theo. 

The smallest of headache began to gnaw at Draco and the need for another shot of that potion flickered as a thought. He had a feeling this year was going to kill him.   

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- 

“Welcome to Advance Potions,” Slughorn announced, happily. His grubby eyes and bright smile made for an odd combination but at least Slughorn believed in more independent work. It was only a small class of fifteen students across all four houses who managed to get a score high enough to be considered for advance levels.   

Hermione sat at her own table, like everyone else, a full spread of tools and ingredients and her book propped open, ready for her final class of the day to begin. Hermione kept to herself since her early arrival, looking into the book material to keep distracted when she knew very well that at any moment Draco would stroll in and ruin her train of thought. 

She wasn't fooling herself to believe that he wouldn't take the advance course for potions. He was better than her.

Then, by some god awful coincidence, Hermione glanced up right at the exact second Draco strolled in. He caught Hermione staring and without much warning he mouthed ‘Hi’ to her, his eyes lowering down at her as he walked by her to take the table next to hers. 

The way her body reacted made Hermione angry. She didn’t want to feel giddy or love struck. Her core recoiled in anticipation and her heart leaped in joy for the smallest amount of attention. There was definitely something wrong with her.  

Her face hardened at the silent torture she was in. 

It was only Draco, after all. It wasn’t like he was some sodding new person. She was willing to bet that he was still that simple sweet guy she ended up falling for.  

Except now, he was clearly eye catching and it was hard to stay angry at him. It almost made Hermione forget why she was angry at him... 

Right. That stupid, fucking quaffle. Oh, and the letters! Of course, the letters. That's why! The asshole.  

While Hermione mulled over her contempt for Draco, he was clearly catching on that she was not happy with him. Her jaw firmed and she glared back.  

He took paused at her reaction when he cracked his book open ready thumb through its contents. 

Draco, on the other hand, had felt the sense of hesitation to approach his friends. Daphne was easy, enough and the quidditch team wasn’t too bad to chat with that morning. They actually bombarded Draco with the news of being selected captain (again) and wouldn’t take no for an answer.  

When it came to everyone else, it felt like uncharted waters. Like they would soon discover Draco as a fraud the second he opened his mouth. 

Strangely enough, when it came to leadership, it was easy for Draco to slip into the role and pretend. He wished he could say the same with his friends in more casual setting. He kept a comfortable distance unless they first approached him, then Draco would remember the familiarity of having friends and sharing a laugh. 

All that to say, he had no clue how to even strike up a conversation with Hermione. 

She was clearly avoiding him and if it had to do with the quaffle mishap that morning, Draco needed to apologize.  

That’s it.  

That’s his opening so he could apologize for a million other things. 

He stood up and cleared his throat, ready to approach her.  

Her head snapped up again but not at him.  

There were two more familiar voices that joined in and Draco immediately sat back down when Harry and Ron joined their small class. Harry and Ron walked straight to Hermione, slamming their things down and talking a mile a minute about Snape's Defense Against the Dark Arts class.  

They must have gotten a good scolding by Snape, judging from the sounds of Ron and Harry’s irritation in their voices.  

The absence of Snape as their Potion’s Master made Draco a bit nervous. He had been used to the teaching styles of his professor. He knew Snape wasn’t everyone’s favorite but his sharp tongue and critical eye was something Draco hadn’t minded at all.  

It was nothing to the degree of his father’s verbal stings nor the punishments of his aunt.  

“Welcome all!,” Slughorn, a rather stout but friendly looking wizard, greeted. His voice was thin but warm, his small eyes nearly disappearing when he smiled, “Come close! Come, come.” 

The class hesitated but rose as they watched Slughorn wheeled in a trolley with a few vats and containers. They all gathered around the curious presentation while Draco hovered behind, having a clear view over the heads of others.  

 Slughorn flourished his arms around to emphasize his first lesson. 

“Ta-da!” He grinned at the group of unimpressed students who watched on with lack of familiarity, “I thought I’d start off the year with a few potions that any serious potioneer would love to one day make. Can anyone tell what this first one might be?” 

A few eyes glanced over a colorless, brew of what looked like water to Draco, if it wasn’t for the viscosity of it. His eyes flickered over to Hermione when her hand shot up in the air.  

“Vertiserum, sir.”  

Slughorn chuckled brightly, “Right you are! Miss?” 

“Granger, sir, Hermione Granger.” She replied.  

“Well done! Five points to Gryffindor,” Slughorn awarded, “A single drop of this colorless, tasteless potion and all your truths will come stumbling out, quite useful but it’s use in legal proceedings is very frowned upon as memory charms can also warp recollection- Oh, and this delightful one right here-” 

“Sir,” Hermione called out, “I believe that the next potion is Polyjuice.” 

“I see that Professor Snape really emphasized theory in your OWL year,” Slughorn chuckled. Draco crossed his arms and kept his stare on Hermione who visibly squirmed under his watch. There was plenty Draco would have like to teased her on, like the fact that theory wasn’t at all challenging for those who brewed it rampantly last year.  

Slughorn was explaining the transformation of Polyjuice when he uncovered a small silver cauldron, the next potion. Slughorn allowed the vapor to swirl lazily in the air and then used his hands to gently guide the scent towards him. Their professor let out a slight chuckle and then passed his hand over the cauldron once more to direct the scent towards the students.  

A rather curious pull of Draco’s heart strings, tugged at his mind.  

Draco was hit with the scent of a tea shop and fresh clean laundry and something about it put him in a damn good mood. Something clicked in his head like he should be registering something familiar to him. His muscles tensed like he was bracing for something... exhilarating?

All he could come up with was how the scents reminded him of a pure love, like the sound of gentle soft bells chiming in the distance.  

Hermione came into his mind, tenderly sleeping in his bed. But there was more that felt like being on the edge of his seat or... like an incomplete thought. With another inhale, Draco enjoyed what he already knew smelled like Hermione. He was curious as to how Slughorn was able to capture all of her essence in a cauldron, picking out the subtle hints of creamy milk and honey as well.

Hermione, on the other hand, froze.

Her heart began to pulse in long violent thuds as if it was bracing itself for something...

Her eyes widened out as visceral moments flooded back to her like some made up story in her head.

It was all mismatched and hard to piece together but Hermione immediately recalled how her eyes once rolled back when Draco’s mouth sucked on the most sensitive part of her neck, and his thumb swiping against the sensitive nub on her breast while her fingers raked up on the nape of his neck.   

Hermione didn’t expect the scent would be packed with a discombobulated memory. She could almost feel his torso settled between her legs that were wrapped tight around him, begging him to roll his hips against hers to feel his stiff member.  

Her own whine and whimpers distantly echoed in her head. Her breath, although soft, was shallow and uneven. 

“Yes, Miss Granger?” Slughorn cocked his head, smiling as if he was already expecting her to know the answer. She did.  

“It’s Amortentia,” She glanced over at Draco wondering if he was being drenched with the recollection as she was.  

Her face flared in heat at the possibility of Draco also remembering tidbits of that night. Maybe a lesson filled with other students wouldn’t be the best place for both of them to have their memories restored, considering how sensual they were. 

“It’s the world's most powerful love potion in the world. It’s said to smell different based on what attracts us. For example, I smell sandalwood, warm linens, old books...” Hermione stopped herself as one memory solidified for her. 

The way Draco captured her lips with his, hot with frenzy and how he picked her up to sit her on... a table? 

“Right, right,” Slughorn nodded, “The potion is characterized by the way it reflects its mother-of-pearl sheen, a curious link to the Greek goddess of Love, Aphrodite who is said to originated it...” 

Another memory hit Hermione square in the fact, the voice haunting her as if they were whispering it right behind her, right in her ear.  
 

“Aphrodite, the original enchantress of love. What an obvious choice!” 

 
Hermione furrowed her brows wondering why her mind showed her a vision of a beautiful ornate portrait of the Greek goddess coming out of a shell and then her mind twisted around to show her a fountain that poured liquid the very same sheen like the Amortentia Slughorn was showing off.  

Hermione couldn’t pay attention to the rest of the class. Not when she began to feel a rather uncomfortable feeling of needing someone to touch her.  

She moved uncomfortably, confusingly aroused. Surely the scent of Amoretentia wasn’t supposed to excite those feelings. She hadn’t even drunk it. And besides, everyone else looked more dazed and almost sleepy at the inviting scent, not... aroused.  

Hermione was tempted to dart out of the room to dunk herself in a bath of cold water. 

Draco raised his hand. 

“And that one sir?” Draco asked, not a hint of bother in his eyes. The corner of his mouth pulled up in a small smile before he poked his tongue into his cheek as his eyes lightened up at the tiny flask of golden liquid luck.  

Hermione recalled biting softly on the bottom of her lips as Draco’s needy hands tore at her shirt, his hot lips claiming every inch of her. And those damn hands were on her legs, caressing her skin but not where they should have been when she wanted more.  

She remembered that particular shirt. The same shirt she couldn't understand the state of it when she took off Draco's hoodie. It was nearly ripped in half when she arrived at the Hospital Wing, confused and bewildered as to what had happened.  

She now understood.  

Hermione felt insane. Was she the only one slowly remembering?  

It made Hermione feel like she was hallucinating far away fantasies of Draco and it made for a very distracting lesson. 

The rest of the class was torture for Hermione. She couldn’t focus on the potion she was expected to brew that day and it didn’t help that Harry suddenly had the Midas touch for potions. It was an enormous amount of pressure seeing how poorly Hermione was performing in one of her better classes.  

The gloss in her hair began to fizz a bit at her tips and while Harry was awarded the Felix Felicis for a job well done, Hermione sat in the corner slumped over her globby mess of a Daught of Living Death while Draco seemed to have narrowly missed being award with the prize.

Slughorn dismissed the class soon after and proceeded to chat with Harry as everyone else gathered their things.  

Hermione sighed and shoved her books into her bag already planning to reread a particular passage in the book she had been studying about memory.  

There was something about scents being strongly connected to memory she wanted to review, to see if it was possible to use that along with the Forget-Me-Not Elixir. 

She stood up and winced when she hung the bookbag on the wrong shoulder. 

She quickly switched arms and rolled her shoulder back to alleviate the slight pain that resurfaced when Theo had tackled her to the ground. 

“Granger?” 

A harden face glared back at Draco who had approached her. He took in a soft inhale of her and his heart jolted while he desperately tried to suppress his grin.  

“What?” Hermione frowned.  

“Are you upset with me?” Draco asked.  

Hermione guffawed, “You can’t be serious.” 

“I didn’t mean to hit you,” Draco insisted and Hermione deflated.

Of course. He was inquiring about that little mishap that morning. Not because of... other stupid meaningless things she had waited for all summer.  

“I know,” She curtly said.  

“Okay,” Draco nodded, pressing those lips she once claimed with hers into a thin line. Hermione’s eyes fell over him, sizing him up, taking note of how much more he towered over her. His thick broad chest, the one that bore that Head Boy badge he proudly wore, was right in her line of view.

Hermione blinked herself out of the trance and cleared her throat.  

“See you around,” Hermione muttered as another wave visceral moments of her running her hands up his chest plagued her mind.  

“Oh, c’mon Granger,” Draco lightly teased, following her out as she rushed away. Hermione’s heart started to bang against her chest. Whether it was the sadness of his silence or the fact that she was being submerged with an intense desire, there was a revolting sort of shame that was heating up her face. 

She was sure they were both overwhelmed by it but it looked like either Draco was the best actor in the world or he simply did not remember like Hermione did the way he regarded her. 

“Let me see your face,” Draco asked, taking two steps while she took five and within a breath over took her, standing in front of her, “I need to know the amount of damage I’ve done to that pretty cheek of yours.” 

He didn’t know why the compliment slipped out of his mouth so easily. Draco only knew that it somehow got under her skin, making her pause long enough to block her way. 

Draco tilted his head, regarding her.  

“You do look a little red,” He muttered, his mouth pulling down at the corners as he analyzed her. Hermione huffed.  

“I’m fine,” She insisted, “Now will you stop tease-” 

“It’s more than just the accident, isn’t it? Why you’re mad.” Draco pushed on, she caught whiff of the light scent of him and her insides twisted. 

Dear Merlin, Hermione begged, she just needed to get away. The more he was around, the more memory trickled into her head.  

A soft pink room and Hermione sitting at an altar feeling almost worshipped. His guttural moans he held back. His voice right in her ear... 

“When I do, It’ll be in my bed and you there, a complete mess in my sheets. Screaming my name for the entire dorm wing to hear. Aphrodite be damned.”  

A flash of the images around the room barreled into Hermione’s head. She felt dizzy. Almost like the ground under her was disappearing. She needed to get away before she fainted or worse, pulled him into the nearest closet to rip his clothes off.

What in the fuck are you thinking, Hermione's thoughts gasped.

Without much warning Hermione sprinted off, leaving Draco in a very confused state.  

He would have to apologize some other time he supposed.