Potions Homework

Potions Homework

7. Rule #128

Draco was nervous, which was understandable, considering he was about to go through an ordeal that was the equivalent of meeting his girlfriend's parents--only worse. After all, most adults, however overprotective, had mastered the art of constraining their fury. Harry Potter and Ron Weasley were a different story. In addition to their hot tempers, they disliked [that was somewhat of an understatement] Draco to boot. Suffice to say that it didn't bode well for him.

But a Malfoy, nervous? Never. Though Draco wasn't his father's biggest fan, he had still been raised to strictly obey the Malfoy Family Code of Conduct, which stated in Rule #23 the following: A Malfoy is never nervous or anxious because he will always have total control over the situation (or at least act like it).

So Draco fought the urge to take a deep breath (which would indicate the need to calm oneself down and to a Malfoy would be completely unnecessary as they had complete control over the situation) and schooled his features into his well-known smirk. His appearance was impeccable as always--every hair in place, every crease in his Slytherin house robes smoothed out, and black loafers polished to a shine. The only thing that marred his sexy-and-unapproachable unchallenged prince of Slytherin image was the brown-haired Gryffindor attached to his side, her hand in his.

"Are you all right with this?" Hermione peered up at him with questioning eyes.

"Of course." His voice, Draco noted with satisfaction, belied none of the anxiety he was most definitely not feeling.

"If you're sure, then." Hermione squeezed his hand and continued to lead him down the corridor.

Draco noted his unfamiliarity of the passing hallways with a growing horror. "Don't tell me you're taking me to the Gryffindor Tower, Hermione! I thought you had more sense than that."

She glanced at him briefly. "Then where would you suggest?" she asked, exasperated.

"An empty classroom," he replied promptly. "There are many conveniently empty classrooms in Hogwarts. They're good for snogging, plotting, and being interrogated by two Gryffindolts."

"Draco."

"Just because I like you doesn't mean I have to like your friends."

"Be nice. Please?" Her brown eyes met his imploringly. She turned into his arms. "I know this is hard for you. And it won't be a picnic for Ron and Harry either. But you guys are the three most important people in my life--short of my parents," she added after a moment of thought. She looked up at him again, her expression beseeching. "Please?"

He looked down at her without saying anything. Then, with a sigh, "Just because I'm doing you this one favor, don't start thinking I've suddenly turned nice or anything." He quirked a brow. "It'd ruin my reputation."

She broke out into a grin and Draco got the feeling that he'd made the right decision.

He was questioning his intelligence--no, his sanity--fifteen minutes later, cornered in the empty classroom he'd so helpfully suggested by the two overprotective Gryffindolts. Each seemed to vie to outdo the other in the number of questions asked [more points for outrageously personal ones], Spanish inquisition style.

"What do you want with Hermione?'

"What are you hiding?"

"Why should we trust you?"

"Did you Imperius Hermione? I'll kill you, Malfoy."

"Was your father a Death Eater?"

"Are you?"

"Do you support Voldemort?"

"Why do you like Snape?"

"Why are you such a prat?"

"What does Hermione see in you?"

"Are you going to double-cross us?"

Draco held up an imperious hand, halting the voluble flow of words. He glared at Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley, both of them appearing to be on the verge of breaking a sweat after so much exertion. Hermione sat helplessly in the background, casting sympathetic looks toward her new boyfriend. She knew personally just how nosy and overprotective her best friends were.

Taking a deep breath, Draco rattled off, "I'm not hiding anything, no, I didn't Imperius Hermione, if you have to ask about my father, you're an idiot, no I don't support Voldemort, I like Snape because he takes points from idiots like you, I'm not a prat, Weasley, no, I won't double-cross you unless you give me a good reason, and Hermione only sees in me what every other girl at this school does. She has good sense." Then he looked at the two sixth-years staring wide-eyed at him. "Any questions?"

Wrong thing to ask.

"Actually, now that you mention it--"

"Are your mother and father related?"

"What's your middle name?"

"What's your wand made out of?"

"Why do you make fun of Neville?"

"What do you Slytherins do in your common room?"

"Is it anything illegal or immoral?"

"Are you afraid of anything?"

"Do you have any weaknesses or secrets we could exploit?"

"Can I beat you to a pulp?"

"Why can't you beat me at Quidditch?"

"How did it feel, being the amazing, bouncing ferret?"

"Ron!" Hermione sounded scandalized. "Don't say that! Draco's very sensitive on the subject."

Ron glanced at the Slytherin, who looked mildly irritated but not anywhere near the fury he was often found with when confronting Gryffindors.

Draco crossed his arms. "My parents are not related, except by marriage, Longbottom is an idiot, my middle name is none of your business, my wand is a eleven-inch maple with a dragon heartstring, I'm not afraid of anything, and you're daft if you think I'd tell you any of my secrets. And unless you're Slytherin, you have no business worrying about what exactly we do in our common room." He sneered. "But I'm sure--"

"Hi."

Four pairs of eyes swung to the door of the classroom. Being a Saturday, not as warm as the one previous, but still quite lovely, they hadn't expected to be interrupted. After all, what student--other than Hermione and a handful of Ravenclaws--would willingly enter a classroom during the weekend?

Apparently, Ginny Weasley would.

"What are you doing here, Ginny?" Ron wanted to know.

She blinked wide blue eyes at him. "Er." She blushed pink and stared at her feet. "I was, um, wondering, if maybe Harry wanted to do something?" She took a breath and rushed on, "It's a really nice day and I packed a picnic and I was hoping maybe we could eat by the lake and enjoy the sunshine...?" She trailed off when she saw Harry's blank look.

"Um..." he said incoherently.

Draco was looking at her with a vaguely disdainful air. "So this was what it was all about. I was fairly sure from the beginning that it was you, but this just cinches it." He sniffed. "Weasleys. Gryffindors. Not what you would call clever schemers."

Hermione blinked at him. "What are you going on about, Draco?"

Ginny flushed red. "I-I don't know what you're talking about, Malfoy."

"'Oh Potter, I idolize you so. Please come with me on a pity date...'" mimicked Draco in a high falsetto.

"Malfoy!" Ron growled, curling his hands into fists.

"That's not it!" protested Ginny stridently.

Draco arched a brow. "And I suppose Hermione's shouting 'Hugz-o-palooza' was completely accidental?"

Ginny reddened again but said nothing, setting her lips stubbornly. Hermione was eyeing her speculatively. It was evident that her thoughts were racing and she was working furiously to set them in order.

"And then there's the fact that it was you who switched the Amoura Potion with the Polyjuice Potion."

"What are you saying, Malfoy?" Ron shouted at him. "I won't have you make all these absurd accusations about Ginny. Why would she have done any of that?" He glowered. "You make it sound like she was trying to get you and Hermione together. Why would she have done that?! She despises you as much as I do!"

"But you didn't know she despises me, too, did you?"

Now all the eyes swung to Hermione. She smiled placidly. "Ginny was jealous of my relationship with you two." She shook her head sadly, her brown curls bouncing. "I was best friend with both her closest brother and her secret crush for six years. She wanted me out of the way, and by setting me up with Draco, it seemed to be the perfect revenge. Odd how life turns out, though." She smiled at the Slytherin by her side and took his hand.

He smiled briefly back, before lifting cold grey eyes in the youngest Weasley's direction. "And with Hermione out of the way," he stated baldly, "she would've had a much better shot at the Boy Who Lived To Give Pathetic Schoolgirls Hope For Romance."

"Hey--"

Ron was drowned out by his sister. "You're right." She smiled bitterly at the couple. "Both of you. But it's funny how it all backfired, isn't it?" She glared at the way their hands were entwined.

"But--Ginny?" Harry finally spoke up, his voice soft and his expression confused. He couldn't place this hateful, bitter girl with the one he'd rescued from the chamber almost four years ago. "But...she...Ginny, you..." He shook his head, sending his already mussed hair into disarray. He blinked. "You're such a sweet, innocent, naïve little girl..."

Ginny's face darkened.

"...who obviously has a devious side," remarked Draco, almost approvingly. "A Slytherin trait." Hermione shot him a sharp look and he smirked at her. "I'm all yours, love, but I can't help it if my groupies concoct convoluted schemes to win me back."

"She was after Harry, you twat," Ron said, annoyed.

Harry, now blushing, occupied himself by staring interestedly at the ground. Hermione ignored Draco and sighed in exasperation. "Tell her why you can't go out with her, Harry," she ordered.

Harry shifted uncomfortably and refused to look at Ginny. "Well, um," he muttered, "you see, Ginny. I-er, that is... I can't go out with you because... uh, I'mhavinganaffairwithyourbrother."

Ginny blanched.

"What?!" demanded Ron, outraged.

Draco was convulsed with laughter. "I knew it. Doesn't this just beat all? Our precious Potter is a--"

"Harry!" Hermione interrupted with a quelling glance at Draco. "Tell her the truth. Please," she added in a softer tone.

"Um." Harry glanced up, then back down again. "My mother left me a letter telling me I couldn't go out with girls younger than me?"

This time, even Ron snorted with laughter.

"Try again." There was an edge to Hermione's voice.

Harry took that as a warning. "I'm sorry Ginny, but this...is hard for me." He looked helplessly at her, embarrassed. "I'm flattered by your attention but--" He paused.

"But the thing is," Draco cut in smoothly, "he's desperately, madly in love with Hermione here and is currently plotting countless horrible ways to maim my supremely fit body and steal away my bookworm princess."

"And this is supposed to make her like me better, how?" mumbled Hermione to herself.

Draco smiled blandly. "But, you see, it won't work." He sounded vastly amused as he looped his arm around Hermione's waist and drew her to him, smirking at the incensed looks on Potter and Weasley's faces, and added, "She's far too clever to let herself be stolen away. She loves me."

Hermione, who'd been beaming at his compliment on her intelligence, immediately flushed and protested, "You wish, you arrogant little--"

He placed a gently finger on her lips and suddenly she was riddled with memories of the previous week when he'd done the exact same thing...

"I never wish. I know," he said smugly. "You can't resist my charm."

Before Ron could spring across the table separating them, knocking chairs over in the process, and lunge for Malfoy's throat, which the red color of his face indicated he was ready to do, Ginny and Harry regained enough presence of mind to lay restraining hands on him.

Then Harry looked apologetically at Ginny. "I'm sorry, Gin, but I can't go out with you because...I can't see you as anything other than a sister. And I'm not prone to incest." The latter was muttered under his breath, which, unfortunately, Ron caught.

"This is mental, Harry!" he declared. "Look how Malfoy's been rubbing off on you and we've barely been here a half hour! He's such a git." This was accompanied by a glare. "A bastard. Pure evil."

Draco looked affronted. "I'm not evil. I prefer the term 'morally challenged.'" He narrowed his eyes, which resulted in two things: the first being the speeding up of Hermione's heart, and second, the increasing of Ron's ire. "And I wouldn't be bringing up the question of my birth when I'm dating a Muggleborn, Weasley. Honestly. What happened to that last brain cell of yours? Had to sell it to feed your family?"

"Malfoy!" chorused Ginny, Harry, and Hermione in anger. Ron merely sputtered incoherently, the red color on his face darkening to a puce that surely couldn't be good for his health.

Draco shrugged, mostly unconcerned with a little cruelty. He'd been born, bred, and raised this way--it had been expected of him. One really couldn't expect so much change in him merely based on the fact that he was dating Granger, could they? But then...he caught a sight of her face. And behind the obvious anger in her eyes, his searching gaze found flashes of hurt and disappointment. He flinched at the stab of guilt and coiled in his stomach.

Dash it all.

Screwing up his face in distaste, he finally muttered indistinctly, "Sorry."

Like that, Ron's jaw was hanging open. "What?"

"I won't repeat it, Weasley," snapped Draco.

But it had been worth it. Because when he looked at Hermione now, he saw a smile on her face. A small smile, to be sure, but one that glowed with pride and admiration. She was intelligent enough to know that the apology hadn't been easy for him, had gone against all the values [and self-importance] he'd been raised with, and she appreciated his effort. And with that one smile, Draco suddenly felt much better about breaking Rule #8 in the Malfoy Family Code of Conduct. [It followed as thus: A Malfoy shall never make an apology or sound apologetic in any way unless it is to a superior, benefits themselves in some form or fashion, or ensures their well-being and longevity of life, which would be included in the previous exception.]

What did it matter, anyway? He'd already broken a cardinal rule [Rule #128: A Malfoy shall never engage in a relationship of amity with any Muggleborn witch or wizard unless it is under false pretenses and for self-benefiting reasons.] He looked down at Hermione and felt a sudden urge to grin. She loved him. Despite everything, he knew she did. He grinned

Forget Rule #51 as well.

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