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From that moment on, Harry's obsession with Draco Malfoy began to take a rather alarming turn.

First, he made Ron and me follow Draco down Knockturn Alley ("Any wizard caught down this place must be a Death Eater!"). I didn't bother to point out that it wasn't so long ago that Harry himself was caught wandering down there by Hagrid, who also had his reasons for being there.

Using Extendable Ears, we listened in as Draco went into Borgin and Burke's and demanded that Borgin help him mend something. But what, we had no idea. And he also asked to keep something else in reserve for him, but again what, we couldn't tell, due to a great big large cabinet blocking our view

Being a good friend, I slipped into the shop myself, after Draco had left, and gave my worst performance yet.

"Hello, horrible morning, isn't it?" I said brightly to the mean looking, oily haired shop keeper.

He just looked at me, expression full of deep contempt. Humming cheerily, I began to 'browse' around.

"Is this necklace for sale?" I asked, pausing beside a glass-fronted case where a stunning silver chain adorned with emeralds and diamonds sat.

"If you've got one and a half thousand Galleons," Borgin said coldly.

"Oh - er - no, I haven't got quite that much." I walked on, my heart beginning to race. "And... what about this lovely - um - skull?"

"Sixteen Galleons."

"So it's for sale, then? It isn't being... kept for anyone?"

Borgin squinted at me. Drat... I wasn't being in the least bit cool. Realising I had nothing to lose, I threw caution to the winds.

"The thing is, that - er - boy who was in here just now, Draco Malfoy, well, he's a friend of mine, and I want to get him a birthday present, but if he's already reserved anything I obviously don't want to get him the same thing, so... um..."

"Out," he said sharply. "Get out!"

"Real smooth, Hermione," Harry grumbled as we made our way back up to Diagon Alley. "May as well have stripped naked and sang a song about how we suspect Malfoy is a Death Eater."

"You think he is one, not me." I retorted, feeling pissed off. "I simply went in there to prove that you're just being dramatic as usual, Harry. And need I remind you what happened the last time we followed one of your hunches?"

That shut him up.

*****

But sadly not for long.

"I just told your dad to go and do a raid on Malfoy Manor," he announced to Ron as we boarded the Hogwarts Express for our sixth year.

"But - why?" I spluttered, wanting to shake him out of this obsession.

"Because Draco Malfoy is a Death Eater." Harry said for the millionth time. "I know it."

"Harry," Ron muttered, taking my trunk off me to hoist up onto the luggage rack. "I doubt whether You-Know-Who would allow a sixteen-year-old to-"

"Oh, yeah," Harry scoffed. "Because we all know how mindful Voldemort is about the exploitation of minors."

Rolling our eyes, Ron and I left him to it whilst we attended our prefect duties.

Interestingly, Draco did not show up, instead remaining in his compartment with the other Slytherins. He stuck his middle finger up at Ron as we passed by.

"Maybe he preferred the Inquisitorial Squad," I mused once we arrived back to our own compartment and rejoined Harry who was now accompanied by Luna and Neville. "Maybe being a prefect seems a bit tame after that."

"I don't think so," Harry said. "I think he's a-"

Thankfully, at that moment, the compartment door slid open to reveal a breathless third-year Hufflepuff.

"I'm supposed to deliver these to Neville Longbottom and Harry P-Potter," she faltered, her face turning scarlet as her eyes met Harry's. She held out two scrolls of parchment tied with violet ribbon.

"Of course, of course," Harry muttered mysteriously, clicking his tongue as he silently read the contents. "Dumbledore warned me this would happen. Well, I suppose I could use the opportunity to do a bit of investigating. Come on, Neville, stick with me, and you'll go far."

And with that, he pocketed his Invisibility Cloak and dragged a bewildered looking Neville away.

"What was that about?" Ron asked, looking at me in complete bafflement.

I shrugged, before sinking down in my seat to read the latest issue of Transfiguration Today.

*****

It was with little surprise that when we next saw Harry, his face was smashed in.

"Malfoy is definitely a Death Eater," he announced, taking a seat and immediately helped himself to a large slab of treacle tart, not caring that the entire Great Hall was staring at his bloodied face. "I heard it from the very horse's mouth."

"You mean he actually confessed to it?" Ron breathed, his jaw dropping open.

"Well - no." Harry faltered, suddenly looking unsure of himself as he drowned his tart in custard. "Not exactly. But I overheard him telling Parkinson that he was moving on to bigger and better things."

"Perhaps he was dumping her for someone with bigger tits?" Ron shrugged, his mouth so full with pudding that he ended up spraying bits of pastry everywhere.

"Either that or he got a penis enhancer." Seamus chuckled, nudging his elbow in my arm and wiggling his eyebrows as though I would think that was even remotely amusing.

I rolled my eyes. Why must boys always make everything so crude?

"Nah, he's a Death Eater," Harry said, nodding his head decidedly. "Just take a look at him. Is that the face of someone who has suddenly found them self winning big dick contests?"

We all swivelled our heads in the direction of the Slytherin table. Harry wasn't wrong. Draco Malfoy did not, indeed, look like someone who was winning anything.

We watched as he pushed food around his plate, shoulders heavy and grey eyes staring a million miles away. His skin took on a deathlike pallor and I noticed how tired and gaunt he was looking, as though he hadn't had a decent night's sleep in a long time.

I didn't want to feel sorry for him, especially after he was so horrid to me. But I couldn't help but feel a small tug at my heart, the desire to reach out to him stirring faintly in my stomach.

"Man, just looking at him is making me feel depressed." Dean Thomas muttered gloomily.

"Fancy some cheering up?" Ginny said alluringly as she slithered her arms around his neck and nibbled at his earlobe.

"For fuck's sake, little sister!" Ron hissed, slamming down his knife and fork. "We are all trying to eat here!"

"Yeah!" Harry agreed, for some reason looking more furious than Ron.

"Fine." Ginny spat, glaring daggers at the both of them, fire sparking in her eyes. "Next time we'll take it somewhere private."

"Might I remind you that you're fifteen?!" Ron spluttered, his eyes almost popping out of his head.

"Yeah, the same age as Harry was when he was shoving his tongue down a grieving widow's throat!" Ginny retorted with a smirk playing at her lips.

"THEY WEREN'T EVEN MARRIED!" Harry roared, his already bloodied face going redder.

It was at this point when Dumbledore thankfully told us all to shut our cakeholes whilst he made the start of year announcements.

"What happened to his hand?" I gasped, staring in horror at the blackened and dead-looking thing that used to be Dumbledore's right hand.

"Oh, it's nothing," Harry said airily, giving his own okay-looking hand a dismissive wave. "It was like that when I saw him over the summer. I'm sure if it was serious, he would have told me. We tell each other everything, you see."

I breathed a sigh of relief. Harry was right. I doubt Dumbledore would keep secrets of any kind from him.

But when he went on to announce that Slughorn was actually going to be teaching Potions, and that Snape was taking over the Defence Against the Dark Arts post, both Ron and I turned to stare at Harry with our mouths agape.

"Uh- I guess he forgot to mention that one..." Harry mumbled, his face going pink as he readjusted his blood spattered glasses.

Merlin.

*****

The very next morning, we were issued with our timetables over breakfast.

"I'm sure you can anticipate that taking on seven N.E.W.T.s is going to be a hard slog, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall reminded me in a stern, but fair, voice. "This will mean no distractions, and please, please try and stay out of any... misadventures."

She peered pointedly through her spectacles at Ron and Harry, both of whom were indulging in a game of 'sausage wars'.

Our first lesson was Potions, and I, amongst everyone else, was intrigued by this new Slughorn teacher.

For the first time since I started Hogwarts, I actually found Potions rather enjoyable. Slughorn seemed pleased to have me in his class and let me answer all the questions every time I punched my hand into the air.

"It's Amortentia!"

"It is indeed." He chuckled, his little walrus eyes glinting impressively at me. "It seems foolish to ask, but I assume you know what it does?"

"It's the most powerful love potion in the world!"

"Quite right! You recognised it, I suppose, by its distinctive mother-of-pearl sheen?"

"And the steam rising in characteristic spirals," I showed off, "and it's supposed to smell differently to each of us, according to what attracts us, and I can smell freshly mown grass and new parchment and-"

I froze, feeling a heat rise to my face. I had almost added cinnamon. The scent of Ron's cologne.

The class erupted into low murmurs and giggles, and I quickly ducked my head, pretending to search for something my bag.

And then Harry's fucking book happened.

"It's like cheating!" I spluttered when he won the bottle of liquid luck on his very first try.

"It's like winning, actually," Ron smirked as he smacked Harry's shoulder.

A loud, high pitched giggle drowned out my remonstrations. Lavender Brown, who was playing coyly with her hair, apparently found Ron's remark highly amusing. Anger flushed through me as his face turned pink and a crooked smile played upon his lips.

I tried to ignore the lump in my throat as I packed away my things.

How could a class start off so promising and then end so despairingly?

*****

Draco Malfoy felt the involuntary twitch of his eye and the stir in the pit of his stomach every time she shot her arm into the air.

Fucking know-it-all.

Yet, he couldn't help but lean forward ever so slightly on his stool when she described what scent tickled her senses, curious as to what a haughty and self-assured windbag such as Hermione Granger found attractive.

What was it she was going to say? But the way her eyes flicked over to Weasley told him everything he needed to know. So... the Mudblood had a crush on the weasel.

They were well suited, he supposed. Yet, it appeared she wasn't the only one taking a fancy to the ginger prat. What the fuck was it about him? He wasn't even what one would call handsome, and he certainly wasn't bright. How on earth he made it to N.E.W.T. level, Draco would never know.

He saw the fall of her face as the weasel made eyes at that infuriatingly giggly Brown girl. He had the strangest desire to swoop in and make her smile again.

Giving himself a mental shake, he packed away his things. He was just tired, he told himself. And not to mention furious at losing the chance to win the Felix Felicis to bloody Potter.

He had needed it. Merlin, he had needed it bad.

But it looked as though he was set to rely on his own rotten luck.

He was the last one to leave, and, as he passed the cauldron of Amortentia, he caught a faint whiff of perfume that carried notes of strawberry, vanilla and musk. The scent was familiar to him, but he couldn't place in his mind where he had smelt it before.

At lunch, he took a subtle sniff of Pansy, and recoiled at once, forgetting that she liked to wear too much of that sickly sweet violet crap.

It was only during Transfiguration did he discover what was puzzling him.

"Excuse me," Granger said as she moved past him to get to the front of the class.

And there it was; the scent he couldn't quite place.

Oh.

*****

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