(*Warning: there is no necessary warning for this chapter)
"Do you know how to brew? It's a very delicate process, and I don't want to throw you into it without complete understanding," Tom asks, oblivious to her predicament, and she nods at him. "Why aren't you-? Oh, that will complicate things. One of his favourites, he likes to pull jokes sometimes." He responds, after she opens her mouth to display her immobile tongue. "How about you get the ingredients? The book has plenty of diagrams if you need to reference back; I'll get the rods and cauldron set up."
She crosses the room to the storage cabinet to fetch the things with a list she had written, gathering ingredients carefully as she manoeuvres around her peers. They're all leaving with everything while she's still hunting for Ashwinder eggs, and she catches sight of them at the same time as someone else.
"Ah, Hermione! Salazar, how thorough was this teacher of yours? You even know your way around potions and ingredients." She glares at Abraxas, and he has the audacity to look hurt. "What have I done to deserve this? You couldn't possibly be upset about- you are? Just a tongue sticking charm, thats all. So easy to lift with a spell." He gathers his eggs and leaves her with an infuriating smile, and she follows him out with her collection of vials and pouches. Tom is waiting for her.
"Excellent," they begin preparing the potion, Tom demonstrating something if she hesitates too long, so she could copy the technique. It was mildly embarrassing, not knowing what all she was doing. She supposed it was to be expected. She was technically supposed to be in her sixth year, and here she was, in a seventh year NEWT level. She was one of the oldest in her year, of course, since her birthday was so close to start of term, so she was at least the same age as some seventh years.
"Use the heel of your hand to crush the beans, rather then your knuckles. It'll save you a considerable amount of pain." Tom stares down at their potion, frowning. "Ah, that's not the right colour. Can you pass me the text book please? Thank you."
"Hermione, I am thoroughly impressed with your skills. I'm starting to be more and more curious about who taught you all of this." She frowns and turns to look at Abraxas, who had made his way down to her and Tom's table. Tom only gives him a glance before returning to reading the textbook. Abraxas smiles sweetly and taps his wand to her mouth, and her tongue finally unsticks itself.
"I didn't know much about him, and he didn't know much about me." She mutters a reply, leaning over to look at the book over Tom's shoulder. "We haven't added the rose petals yet, that will give it the pearly shine. Although I think there's too much peppermint; it should balance out if we use 13 instead of 12 rose petals, and do the first stir counterclockwise." Tom mutters his agreement while she counts out the rose petals.
"Ah, you should have learned more about him. Anyone teaching someone the Imperious curse ought to be cause for concern."
"Malfoy," Tom says calmly, although his tone carried a hint of something that told her to be afraid. "Lower your voice, please. This isn't something that should be discussed in public, much less in a classroom. Hermione's wand is in my pocket so the spell can cancel out faster." Abraxas mutters apologies.
"Why are you even here- Counterclockwise with a silver rod, Tom. The copper will conduct it too much- shouldn't you be up brewing with Theon?" Abraxas sighs, leaning against the table. She catches the scent of sandalwood from the potion and frowns, but ignores it.
"We've had a slight disaster. Flannigan has had another issue with his potion and it splattered into ours; Slughorn is dealing with it right now." He gestures back lazily, at a steaming orange puddle and a very distraught Gryffindor. "I have yet to figure out how he passed into NEWT level." Malfoy pauses to lean over their potion and breathes it in. "What have you got there, Tom?"
"The potion, you dolt, like you should be making. Hermione, can you watch this for a few minutes? Keep the heat steady, don't let it boil. I need to find some vials, I'm out of my own." She adjusts the flame as Tom disappears into a storage room.
"I love Amortentia. Tom gave me a bottle last year to use as an air freshener; intuitive idea, really, and left open makes our entire room smell like-" He pauses in his conversation and instead smiles at her. "What do you smell in the potion, Hermione? It smells different to every person, as to what attracts them." She hesitates before obliging, leaning close to breathe it in.
"Parchment. I think- yes, the musk of an old book. I can't smell much else if you don't back up, Malfoy. All I can smell is that awful cologne on you," Abraxas grins, but backs up as per her request. "Sandalwood. Dittany smoke. Hair gel?"
"A lovely combination. I am not in the slightest surprised that you're attracted to the smell of books, Granger, don't think I didn't notice you wandering the library last night." He teases her.
"And just what do you smell in the potion, Malfoy?" She snaps at him, cheeks pink, and he inhales deeply.
"Hm, well I think I might smell that book thing too. Something flowery, like my mother's garden. Hm. Wood smoke. Ozone. And the lovely smell of ink, burning." Hermione dims the flame down to barely anything, just as Tom returns.
"Thirty seconds more, add the powdered moonstone and let that sink in. Abraxas for the love of Salazar, get lost. Shouldn't you be helping Theon clean up?" Tom mutters, filling a few vials of the potion discreetly. Abraxas waves his hand.
"Nope. My father should be here shortly to escort me off, we're going early today. We're off to London, of all places. Nothing exotic." Hermione looked at him curiously. "My father is preparing me for when I take over the family business. He's been taking me on business trips every now and then through the years, but this year more than last I suspect."
"And why is that?" Tom asks flatly, corking the row of vials gracefully.
"He wants me engaged, of all things. Or at least courting. I'm turning eighteen in the new year, and apparently I need a fiancé. You can hear how enthused I am." Hermione swallows a small laugh.
"Alright!" Slughorn calls, and Abraxas reluctantly leaves them to return to his table. The scent of his stupid cologne lingers "Your time is up, make sure you bottle some for my later evaluation. Now, let's see!" He comes around to look into each cauldron while Tom stashes away his vials into his potion case. Hermione fills a bottle for Slughorn.
"Tom! Excellent work as usual, very impressive."
"Actually, Professor, Hermione did most of the work. She's quite skilled at potions." Tom mutters softly. Slughorn turns to her.
"Of course she helped! This is brilliant, Miss Granger. I am throughly impressed, knowing your background. I was concerned you wouldn't be up to the level this class requires. Did your parents ever teach you any?" She shies away from the question, shrinking down in her seat as the reminder of their deaths comes into vivid memory. Tom steps in quickly.
"Sir, that's not a subject Hermione is comfortable with. Very traumatic, from what she's told me. Panic attack inducing, though it doesn't last too long."
"Ah yes, of course Tom, of course."
"Dreadful treatment from them. She managed to escape, and she sought out shelter. That's when I met her." Ah, right. Tom's orphanhood was not a well known fact.
"My apologies, Miss Granger. I wasn't aware how deep it ran." She forces a smile and nods, and hands him the vial of potion. Tom hands her back her wand, just as another tongue sticking charm hits her. She stands, about to go curse out Abraxas, but he had already slipped out the door.
~*~
Abraxas,
Lift this spell as quick as you possibly can. You cannot imagine how furious I am with you, I've had to go to two classes and lunch without being able to talk. You had better make this up to me.
Hermione.
She ties the letter to the leg of the owl, giving it a little pellet before sending it on its way. Though she had tried, the spell would not lift. She had learned the hard way that only the caster could lift it. The caster who wasn't here, but rather in London, too far to be able to lift it. It was almost dinner, and she dreaded having to sit with her new friends, unable to talk. She had barely seen them in her remaining classes, as she usually sat with Abraxas in Transfiguration, and Chaylee was far too distracted for Care of Magical Creatures.
"Planning to avoid us for the rest of the day?" She jumps, turning to find Cyriss Mulciber leaning against the doorway. She shrugs, then nods. "Oh, Abraxas got you, didn't he. I was wondering when he would, he's done it to all his friends." He laughs. "Stuck until he gets back, right? Well, it should be a long day for you until he does." She pleads with her eyes, and he sighs. "Do you really want me to lift it?" She nods eagerly. "I need your help with something first."
It had been decided that Cyriss would lift the spell after she finished helping him, and so she found herself creeping down to the dungeon to Slughorn's office. Apparently, Cyriss had had something or another confiscated, and he needed it back, as it was 'a gift for Tom'.
It was a small, silk black bag, and a book. Cyriss explained it would be in one of the desk drawers, and so that was how she found herself disillusioned, sneaking through the halls while everyone else was at dinner. He promised to set some aside for her if she couldn't make it back in time. He also promised that the contents of the bag would cause her pain should she happen to open it. Preparing to enter the office, she starts as she hears loud snores within. She pushes the door open with only a minor squeak.
She rolls her eyes at the scene. Slughorn, fast asleep in his chair, his enormous moustache rippling with each snore. There was almost an entirely empty bottle of fire whiskey next to him, an open box of crystallized pineapple, and several vials of Amortentia he had been grading.
Creeping close, she opens the top drawer of his desk, only finding a large pile of papers and essays that she had missed out on writing yesterday. As she closes it, the snoring stops, but then continues after a snort. The second drawer was entirely confiscated notes, mostly origami notes the Slytherins exclusively used, plus a small vial which, upon reading, turned out to be full of powdered unicorn horn. Sighing, she turns to the final drawer, which contained a disturbingly large number of pineapple boxes, and no sign of the black bag. She looks around, and then out of the corner of her eye, she notices a rippling in the air around the desk, and she reaches out to it. A concealed drawer.
She opens it triumphantly, finding the book and the bag as she was told. She closes the drawers, giving the Professor a look as she hurries out the door, only glancing at the cover of the book as she leaves.
Secrets of the Darkest Art.