Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Victim of the Fall	By : PrettyDesdemona Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 32726 -:- Recommendations : 5 -:- Currently Reading : 7
Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter universe or any of its characters. I do not make any money off this story. Only love!

Chapter List
- 19
- 20
- 21
CHAPTER 20

AS IS

“I’ve got no illusions about you and guess what? I never did. When I say I’ll take it, I meant as is.”

Hermione was kneeling, her hands flung out in front of her body, her forehead pressed into the floor, at Draco’s feet. A position of worship.

Her breath was leaving her body in strangled gasps, her legs quivering, the apex of her thighs wet.

The Dividing Line was buzzing like heavy bass under her fingertips, thudding like a heartbeat. She could feel Bastet moving through her mind lovingly, curling around every cold synapse, burning her thoughts to electricity.

Her head lifted slowly as she rose up onto her knees, to look up at Draco. “Why?” was all she said, her voice shaking.

“I… I don’t know.” the red gleam was fading from his eyes, the light in his hands gone out and they were bathed, again, in the roseate glow of the candles. “It was like instinct… I’m sorry.” he sounded mildly panicked and leant down to help her to her feet.

“Don’t touch me!” she growled, recoiling from his outstretched hands, still covered in blood. She dragged herself to her feet. “I want you to get out of my house.” she snarled.

He held his hands up in supplication, “Hermione, wait… I…”

She cut him off, “Don’t you dare call me by my first name! I haven’t many possessions to give away at my will but that is one of them!” her finger jabbed into the air in front of her as she spoke, “You knew I wouldn’t want that! How fucking dare you humiliate me!”

“I did nothing of the sort! It was instinct, I didn’t know what I was doing!” he bit back, his voice raising an octave.

“GET OUT!” Hermione bellowed, planting her hands on his chest and pushing him forcefully towards the door to her flat. He stumbled slightly as he was forced backwards.

“Fine!” he regained his balance and caught up his cloak and scarf, “Heaven forbid you let anyone in, Granger! Rot in your sadness for all I care! Merry fucking Christmas!” he roared, flinging open her front door and slamming it behind him.

Hermione stared at the closed door, her chest heaving as she listened to his steps thud across the landing and down the spiral staircase. She felt humiliated beyond belief. To be so vulnerable in front of him, her emotions so naked, was unthinkable. She had tried and tried to keep their relationship professional, unfeeling, but he just kept fucking up her plans. He’d asked her all those personal questions, drawn her into having the conversation with him. He’d pulled her from the lake and then sat by her bed for a week. And now he’d gone and done this. If what Isobel said was true, and he did have feelings for her then this was most certainly the wrong way to going about expressing them. It was just so Slytherin.

Embarrassed tears soaked her cheeks as, with a howl of rage, she stomped into her bathroom and flung off her clothes. Steam billowed out from behind the shower curtain as the hot water cascaded out of the shower head. Hermione stepped under the scalding downpour and scrubbed her body of the potion, of his blood, of the memory of his lips on her fingertips and the warm wetness between her thighs.

Two days later, she still could not stop herself thinking of him, his parting words echoed and clanged around inside her head jarringly. What had he meant about her not letting anyone in? Had he expected her to let him in? The thought was laughable. She hadn’t shown any outward signs that she valued his company at all. She didn’t flirt with him, she didn’t laugh with him, and she most certainly was not affectionate with him.

Though, she did not spare a single thought for what he’d done to her, there was nothing to think about. In Hermione’s mind, it was almost tantamount to sexual assault and was therefore meaningless, deserving only her disgust and disdain.

In the end it was not her bodily reaction that bothered her, that made it hard for her to sleep, but the feeling of his magic inside her and his large hands wrapped around her small one, cocooning it. Whether he intended to or not, and Hermione firmly believed that his claim that it was unintentional was complete bullshit, he had pushed his essence into her body. It had been a conscious action, she’d felt the awareness around his magic. It was like his hands were pawing through her organs, her blood and muscles. That’s what had caused the thing that she would continue to steadfastly deny was an orgasm.

She had not heard anything from him in the intervening days and for this, she was ridiculously grateful. She wouldn’t be at all disappointed if she were to never speak to Malfoy again for the rest of her life.

A nagging little voice reminded of their research and progress, but she ignored it. It reminded her of the Zeitei Otrava, a potion that could only be brewed by two people, and only then did Hermione feel a pang of loss. She was almost preparing herself to write to him, suggesting that perhaps they put the past behind them and keep going.

But then she reminded herself that he would never do such a thing for her, not in a million years. And what he done was unforgivable.

At lunchtime two days after her disastrous Christmas, she sat enjoying a meal of fried fish and chips, acquired from an obliging muggle shop just outside Diagon Alley.

The chips moved slowly towards her mouth as she leant over a potions text lying on her coffee table, devouring its words with relish.

Her mind was just beginning to sink away from her encounter with Malfoy and into the book she was reading when a pompous looking eagle owl she did not recognise landed on her balcony and tapped on the glass of the window.

She opened the door and plucked the letter from its proffered leg. When the owl hopped into her flat and helped itself to Sev’s owl treats, she assumed that whoever had written to her expected a hasty reply.

As she sat back down on the couch, she unfurled the parchment and scowled at the familiar handwriting.

Granger,

I have spoken with Teodora and she has agreed to meet the both of us this afternoon at five o’clock. Assuming you have gotten over your incomprehensible and pointless rage, we will be able to ask her about the Zeitei Otrava.

Do try and behave yourself.

Malfoy

Hermione carefully folded the letter in half and proceeded to tear in to bits. She then retrieved a new piece of parchment and a quill from her school bag.

Malfoy,

Fine.

Do try not to be a pompous, egotistical fuckwit.

Granger

She tied the letter to the eagle owl’s leg and watched as it took off out of her balcony door.

The pull of the information that Teodora might be able to offer them was too much to resist. It was a compromise, really. She’d still hate Malfoy wholeheartedly and even resolved to treat him with as much cold disdain as she possibly could just to quash any residual feelings he might have for her. She couldn’t have him getting the wrong idea from any of her actions anymore.

Malfoy was waiting for her, slumped casually against a wall near the door of the entrance hall when she arrived at a quarter to five. Hermione realised very quickly that she was not adequately prepared for seeing him again.

“Here I was thinking you’d be late.” he sneered.

“Fuck off.” she said, storming past him.

He matched her quick stride easily. “Oh, how very mature.”

“You don’t exactly have the corner on maturity, Malfoy.” she growled as they ascended the stairs.

He made no reply to this, though she could almost feel the amusement radiating off him. How was it that no matter how angry she got at him these days, he almost always found it funny rather than insulting?

Hermione attempted to hide it behind her hair but her face was burning red. Just seeing him again made her revisit all of the images she had been trying to block from her mind since Christmas Eve. Suddenly, in a bizarre turn of events, she was noticing everything about him, from his long fingered hands to the arch of his ash blonde eyebrows. There was no imagery behind this observance, her mind was certainly not conjuring fantasies about her running her thumb over the soft skin in the crook of his arm, she was just looking, seeing.

Was he attractive? Yes, in gaunt, drug addict sort of way. But was she attracted to him? No. Unequivocally, no.

They entered Teodora’s classroom and ascended the stairs to her office. Hermione rapped on the door and pushed it open without waiting for a response. Teodora sat on the other side of her low desk, quill poised over a pile of essays.

“Ah, hello my complicatii mici.” she said warmly, gesturing for the two of them to sit down opposite her. “What brings you here?”

They sat. Hermione looked at Malfoy, waiting for him to speak, just as he did the same to her. They both opened their mouths at the same time then closed them to let the other begin. Now that they were there, Hermione did not have the faintest clue as to how to broach the subject of the Dividing Line. It was of the highest importance that she approach her questioning with tact rather than the reverence she felt. She didn’t want Teodora to get the wrong idea and didn’t want to sound like a fanatic.

Finally, after a moment of awkward silence in which Teodora looked between her and Malfoy with polite interest, Hermione bit the bullet and began to speak. “We have something to ask you.” she said.

“It might sound a bit odd…” interjected Malfoy nervously.

“But it’s important.” Hermione finished for him.

Teodora lay down her quill and rested her head on her hands looking slightly amused. “Alright, you have my attention.”

Hermione cleared her throat, her palms sweating, “It’s about the Rusine potion actually. I realised a little while ago that you used my blood as an ingredient. And… Well, that’s not really looked on very warmly, is it?” she realised after the words left her mouth, that the sentence sounded far more accusatory than she meant it.

Naturally, Teodora’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, the amusement gone from her face. “Here in Britain, yes, but my people have a different moral code.”

Hermione shook her head and held out her hands in supplication, “Oh, No! I’m not questioning the morals behind it… I, that is to say we, were just wondering if there were other potions you know of that use blood. Human blood.”

“There are others, yes, many others.” said Teodora slowly. “Why?”

“We’ve been experimenting.” said Malfoy, a hint of pride in his voice.

Teodora sat back in her seat and looked at Hermione shrewdly, “Am I about to find out why you were going down Knockturn Alley all those months ago?”

Hermione fought the temptation to roll her eyes. How was it that Teodora managed to know almost everything that went on with an almost Dumbledore like consistency?

Instead, she just nodded and looked at Malfoy. There was no point dancing around the subject. “Perhaps we should just show her what we did?”

He looked back at her disbelievingly for a moment before shrugging and holding his hands out in front of him to make the long puckered scars on his palms visible to Teodora.

A look of fear and open surprise crossed their teachers face. She looked between Hermione and Malfoy before he brought his hands together and scrunched up his face in concentration. The light burst forth out of his cupped palms.

Teodora gasped and drew back from him. “Lumina a palmelor!” she said, a hint of awe lacing through her voice.

The light was guttering slightly, like a candle in the breeze. “I’m not very good at it yet. It was much stronger when we took the potion.” he said, looking at Hermione.

“Perhaps you just need more practice.” Hermione was hoping to go for cold and condescending but instead, her statement had simply sounded reassuring, much to her annoyance.

“How did you do this?!” asked Teodora, her wide eyes fixed on the guttering light in Malfoy’s hands.

“We have a book, called Bastet’s Line. It told us how.” said Hermione.

Teodora nodded, a hard look on her face. “I know this book. The Intuneric Rege Grindelwald wrote it.”

“How did you know that?” said Hermione sharply. Malfoy had said it was the only copy in the world, how could Teodora have possibly heard of it?

“My mother helped him.” said their teacher darkly, “She told me many things of this man. He was evil; many women from our land went with him for a time and helped him to use our spells and potions for his dark arts. But my grandmother did not, when she discovered what he meant to do.”

Hermione gasped as Teodora’s words were concreted into her mind. “That’s why people are so superstitious about Dividing Lines isn’t it?! That’s why they think it’s dark magic! Because Grindelwald used it!”

Teodora nodded. “Yes. Many forget that the magic did not come from him, but from us. Though, we prefer it that way. There are less questions asked.” she said pointedly.

“So you know they’re not evil? Not dangerous?” asked Malfoy, leaning forward on the desk.

“I know this, yes.” she responded sombrely.

“My flat lies on the line.” Hermione blurted out.

Teodora raised her eyebrows. “Does it, now? How very interesting. And you have been finding these experiments useful?” she asked, looking between Hermione and Malfoy with something that might be pride.

Hermione nodded fervently. “It’s magic unlike I’ve ever seen, Teodora. It’s… fascinating.” There was the reverence she had been trying to avoid. Malfoy seemed to notice this and ploughed on ahead of Hermione.

“But there’s one thing that Grindelwald talks about that we haven’t been able to find anything on. The Zeitei Otrava potion.” he said, his voice lowering urgently.

“Do you know it?” asked Hermione in a voice that was barely a whisper.

Teodora gave them both a long, searching look before she sighed and nodded, “Yes… I know it.”

Hermione’s heart leapt into her chest, beating rapidly.

“You know how to brew it?” asked Draco, deferentially.

Teodora nodded again. “I do.”

Hermione was almost so overcome with excitement that she felt as if she might throw up. “Can… Can you tell us?”

Teodora stood up and began rubbing her eyes tiredly as she paced behind her desk. “I do not know that I should, but I cannot think of a reason why I should not. Am I right to trust you both?”

The question was genuine, as if their teacher really was battling with her thoughts and wanted the reassurance. Hermione nodded instantly. She knew she was not capable of using that magic for ill.

“I can’t defend myself,” said Draco suddenly, “But I can tell you that you are right to trust Hermione. When we first began to research the Dividing Line, our work centred on the Auxilium spell.” he looked at Teodora for confirmation that she knew the spell of which he was speaking. When she nodded, he continued, “I wanted to know whateffect it could have on other people, as Grindelwald’s research hadn’t extended that far. So I taunted Hermione, I said things that I knew without a doubt would upset her; until I was sure she would try and torture me or hurt me. But she didn’t. She used the spell to cause me to feel only the emotions she was feeling. I think this shows a natural disposition to the light.” he sighed, “As for me, well I can’t work the magic of the Dividing Line without her there. So if you trust her, that’s enough for both of us.”

Teodora and Hermione both stared at Draco with open mouthed shock. Hermione, for her part, was speechless. After the argument they’d had, after the things she had, quite rightly, said to him, he could still speak about her as if she were incandescent with integrity.

Teodora gave him a look of deepest admiration before nodding. “Alright. I will tell you. But on one condition. You speak of this to no one but me, do you understand? Even your fellow tovarasi, for now, cannot know. Your ministry will think you are dark wizards and will take you away to the Inchisoare. You must promise this.”

“I promise.” said Hermione.

“I promise.” said Draco.

Twenty minutes later Hermione and Draco were striding through the halls of Hogwarts, the tense silence of earlier forgotten with their argument. This silence was filled with excitement, anticipation. It was taut like a bow string, filling their space with an apprehensive happiness.

The recipe was clutched in Hermione’s fist, burning her skin.

Wordlessly, the pair made their way down to Hogsmeade station, apparated to Diagon Alley, and dashed through the street, up to her flat. Once inside, Hermione laid the folded and slightly crumpled piece of parchment on her coffee table and she and Draco sat down on the couch, staring down at it in awe and shock.

After what felt like hours, Hermione finally broke the quiet, “I can’t believe…”

“We’ve got it.” Draco finished.

“Yeah.” she breathed.

He leant forward and picked it up. She tensed. She almost did not want to read it. What if the ingredients were too hard to come by? What if it was too hard to brew? She hated the idea that they could possibly have come this far only to find that it couldn’t be done.

Draco held the parchment out to her, looking just as fearful as she felt. Hermione shook her head emphatically, cringing away from his outstretched hand. He looked down and began to unfold the recipe. His eyes scanned the page.

Hermione waited with bated breath, ready for a frown of disappointment to mar his features.

But it didn’t. After a moment, he smiled widely and looked up at her.

“It’s alright. It can be done.” he said, the relief evident in his voice.

Hermione snatched the parchment out of his hands and read.

It was overwhelmingly simple to brew. Suspiciously so. The only pause for concern she had was for the sheer amount of time it took. Almost fourteen hours in total.

The ingredients list was strangely short, requiring only a measure of blood from both her heart and Draco’s, a membrane from an Ursini’s Viper egg, which they already had left over from the Virtus Lucis, purified water, asphodel, the juice of one Sopophorous Bean, Belladonna, Valerian roots and a drop of perfume from each of them.

All of this was easily within reach, aside from the heart blood, but Teodora had included instructions for a spell that could make the harvesting on this both simple and safe.

“It says here that we have to make something called Substantia before we can start on the Zeitei Otrava. That’s from Grindelwald’s book isn’t it?” asked Hermione.

Malfoy nodded, already having retrieved Bastet’s Line from underneath Hermione’s couch. “He says that it captures the essence of the brewers. It’s a separate potion though.”

Hermione looked up at him, again overcome with apprehension. “Oh? What’s in it?”

“Teodora already listed the ingredients. The Substantia is made from the heart blood, the membrane and the perfume. We don’t even have to brew it. You just add the ingredients to the cazan first, say a spell, do a little ritual and your done.” he said with a shrug.

Hermione looked at him suspiciously, “What kind of ‘little ritual’ are you talking about exactly?”

“It’s not that bad, Granger. There just has to be some physical contact while we say the spell.” he handed her the book, his face a mask of indifference.

She sighed in relief when she saw that the only contact required was her hand over his heart and visa versa while the incantation was spoken.

Unfortunately she noticed that Teodora had left a footnote at the bottom of the recipe for the Zeitei Otrava that told Hermione she did still need to feed Malfoy the finished potion with her own hands as she had done with the Virtus Lucis. So there was still that.

She was reminded of the infinitesimal moan that had escaped her mouth when his fingertips had brushed against her lips.

“So I think I can gather the ingredients we don’t have within the next two days.” he said, having taken the recipe back out of her hand and scanned the ingredients list. “I haven’t noticed you wearing that sandalwood perfume lately. Have you run out? Because you’ll have to buy some more if you have.”

Hermione shook her head dumbly, shocked that he paid enough attention to her to notice the perfume she wore and identify the scent. “No, I haven’t run out.”

“Good. So we’ll reconvene on New Year’s eve.” he said.

“Alright…” she said distantly. Malfoy made to stand up. “Wait, can you bring me some more books on blood magic? I’ve seen that spell for withdrawing blood from the heart in a few of them and I’d like to do some more research before we try and cast it.”

He nodded and pulled on his cloak. “I’ll bring them tomorrow.”

With that, he turned and left her flat.

Hermione was left feeling both excited and nervous, entirely unsure of what to make of their new discovery and what it might mean for their relationship.

Sure enough, Malfoy dropped off the books on blood magic the next day. He had handed her the tombs, stood awkwardly in the middle of the lounge room for a few minutes as Hermione began to flick through to the index on the largest of them, before muttering a hurried goodbye and leaving as quickly as he’d come.

Hermione was mildly perplexed by his behaviour but her confusion was soon forgotten as she found a reference and detailed set of instructions for the spell she was looking for.

Every one of the books he’d brought for her had clear instructions for the spell and by the evening, Hermione felt confident that she could perform it without fear.

By New Year’s Eve, she hadn’t heard a peep from Malfoy. But at midday on the dot, he appeared on her doorstep carrying another large and inconspicuous looking box.

“You got everything?” she asked as he strode into her flat and deposited the box onto her coffee table.

He nodded. “Yep. Any luck with the blood retrieval spell?”

“Lot’s. It was in every book you gave me. It’s fairly easy.”

The two of them settled themselves into their usual positions, Hermione on the couch and Malfoy on the floor opposite her, the cazan sitting on the coffee table between them.

“So shall we get to it?” Hermione asked, not wanting to drag out the asinine chatter. Now was as good a time as ever.

Malfoy nodded and looked nervous when Hermione pulled out her wand, pointing it at her chest.

“Are you ready? I don’t think it will hurt.” she said in an effort to comfort him.

He shrugged. Hermione leant forward on the table. “Vita.” she whispered gently, the tip of her wand pressed into his chest. Malfoy grimaced in discomfort and Hermione did the same. An odd feeling was creeping up her hand; her skin was growing tight as if more liquid was being pushed into her veins. After a few moments, when the feeling grew too uncomfortable, she withdrew her arm and sat back.

Malfoy rubbed the point on his chest where her wand had been pressed. Hermione transferred her wand into her left hand and, as the instructions had dictated, held her right one over the cazan in a fist, the tight feeling still making her skin throb. Slowly, she unclenched her fist and thick, red blood began flowing out of her palm and into the cazan. The throbbing tightness began to subside.

“Wow.” said Malfoy as the last drops fell from her palm. Hermione inspected her hand, almost expecting to see a wound where the blood had exited her body, but found nothing. Her hand looked exactly the same as it always did.

She looked up just in time to see Malfoy pitch sideways slightly.

“Are you alright?” she asked fretfully.

“Granger, you just took about a pint of blood from my heart.” he said, his breath shaky.

Hermione leapt for her feet and went to the kitchen. She made herself and Malfoy a cup of tea and produced a packet of Tim Tams from her pantry, slinging them under her arm as she walked back into the lounge room. Malfoy was leaning heavily on the coffee table, his head resting on his folded arms.

“Here.” she said, setting the tea and Tim Tams onto the table. “To get your blood sugar back up.”

Malfoy sipped the tea gratefully but eyed the Tim Tams with suspicion. “What on earth are those?”

“Tim Tams.” she replied, “They’re a muggle thing. Here, look.” she pulled a biscuit from the packet and bit off a corner from both ends. “See? Then you dip it into the tea and use it like a straw.” she demonstrated this, sucking the liquid up through the biscuit, finally popping the whole thing into her mouth when it became too soft to hold onto any longer.

He looked on at this display with a mixture of disgust and amusement. Hermione pushed the Tim Tams towards him. He looked as if he might protest for a moment before he sighed resignedly and took one. Hermione watched as he bit off a corner from both ends and dipped the biscuit into his coffee, repeating the process that she had already shown him. The biscuit quickly disintegrated in his hand and he caught it just in time before it fell into the tea. Hermione laughed as he threw his head back, letting the chocolaty mush fall into his mouth. He pulled his hand away to reveal a chocolate covered face looking back at her in bewildered awe.

“That was… Fucking amazing.” he said reverentially, already reaching for another Tim Tam.

Hermione threw her head back and cackled at his chocolate covered visage. She retrieved a cloth from her kitchen sink and handed it to Malfoy who wiped his face clean of the mess.

“Alright, you have to do my blood now.” she said, smiling, “I’ll need some Tim Tams too.”

Malfoy nodded seriously, his face and hands now clean, and took up his wand. Hermione leant forward again so that he could press its tip to her chest.

“Vita.” he said in the same gentle voice she had used previously. Hermione was glad he was paying attention.

He grimaced as what she assumed was the same throbbing, tight feeling filled his hand. But she was only allowed a fleeting moment to consider his discomfort before she registered her own. Something was pulling at her heart, gently but firmly.

It felt almost like grief did, that same unyielding lurch in her chest, the beat of her heart pressed up against her diaphragm. It was making her stomach churn and her head spin slightly.

After a few moments of this, Malfoy withdrew his wand, leaving Hermione feeling weak and anxious. He repeated her earlier movement, holding his right fist over the cazan and releasing the blood damned under his skin slowly. It slugged into the potion, as her blood intermingled with his.

Hermione was just feeling relieved that the experience was over when suddenly an empty feeling slammed into her mind, her head began to spin in earnest and she gagged, allowing her to fall headlong into panic.

Malfoy smiled sympathetically and dug into the packet of Tim Tams, offering her a chocolate covered biscuit. But Hermione was already crawling away from the table, her panic attack taking hold of her body and rocking her senses. Her whole frame shook and she broke out into a sweat. She crawled into the kitchen and collapsed onto the cold tiles, pressing her cheek to the floor.

After a moment, Malfoy appeared, crouching in front of her looking frightened. “Are you alright? Did I do it wrong?”

Hermione shook her head infinitesimally. “Panic attack.” she said through gritted teeth.

Malfoy nodded and disappeared for a moment, stepping over Hermione. He rematerialised holding a Tim Tam and a glass of water.

Hermione held out her hand and took the water, sipping at the glass before setting it on the tiles by her head and reaching for the Tim Tam. She munched on it with her eyes closed as Malfoy sat down on the floor next to her.

“Does this happen often?” he asked quietly, after a moment.

Hermione nodded, “All the time.”

She let the panic sweep over her for a few minutes until it began to dull and ebb away. Malfoy remained silent, sitting by her side until she was ready to sit up again. When she did, she smiled weakly. “Sorry.”

“It's alright.” he said, holding out a hand to help her to her feet.

They made their way back into the lounge room and Hermione slumped onto the couch gratefully. “So now that’s done, shall we get on with it?”

Malfoy nodded and reached into the box of ingredients, pulling from it a fancy looking black bottle.

“Cologne.” he said by way of an explanation when Hermione raised her eyebrows in question.

“Oh! I forgot about that.” she retrieved her own perfume from her bedroom and set it on the coffee table next to Malfoy’s. He poured a drop of liquid from each bottle into their combined blood while Hermione stirred slowly anti-clockwise. Their intermingled scents filled the room.

Malfoy rifled through the box again for the bottle that contained the last remaining Ursini’s viper membrane which he added to the potion.

“So now the incantation?” asked Hermione.

He nodded and they both sat up to lean closer over the cazan. Hermione held her wand in her right hand and extended her left to lie over Malfoy’s heart. He did the same, his large palm landing almost over her breast and she resisted the urge to shrink away from the contact. She studied his face for any hint of smugness or arrogance but there was none.

After a moment, they said, “Substantia.” together as their wands hovered over it and the potion suddenly began to bubble, turning a luminescent purple. The scent of the perfume and blood together was surprisingly intoxicating as the spell took effect and the fumes wafted out of the cazan.

Hermione and Malfoy grinned dopily at each other for a few minutes, breathing deeply the intermingled scents.

After a while Hermione reached for the box of ingredients. “We should probably keep going.” she said and giggled.

Malfoy sniggered. “Yeah.”

She began laying the left over ingredients on the table, humming. The recipe sat between them as the two of them proceeded to prepare the items for brewing. The sound of chopping and scraping filled the flat as the Substantia continued to bubble and give off its intoxicating scent.

After half an hour, Hermione registered vaguely that Malfoy was having trouble extracting the juice from his Sopophorous Bean.

“Try crushing it under the blade of your knife.” she said.

He did as she’d suggested and gave a grunt of approval as the juice spilt out over his cutting board. He added it to the potion before moving onto slicing the Valerian roots carefully.

Hermione couldn’t help but smile.

A/N I'm am SO sorry it's taken me so long to post this new chapter! I was spirited away on a spur of the moment trip up to the bush for new years.

I've taken note of those of you who have reviewed chapter 19 and I'll be reading and reviewing your stories when I get back home in a week or two.

I'm still writing and I hope to post another chapter by new years, but don't hold me to that. My access to the internet is sketchy. Also, because of this, I can't reply to your reviews unfortunately, but please know that as always, I am touched by your support. Thank you so much!!

xx

The quote at the beginning of this chapter is from Ani Difranco's song As Is. Her music has served as a huge inspiration for this piece. I own nothing. Thanks Ani!
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Victim of the Fall