What Do A Lion And A Wolf Share?

The Undeniable Truth

When Draco got home, he immediately set to work on analyzing the potion. Usually his workspace was the one place the rest of the world fully fell away, his brain occupied by the task at hand - usually. As he set to work on the diagnostic spell to determine the potion's ingredients, images of Hermione invaded his mind. No matter how he tried, he couldn't push her out of his head. Hermione in her gold dress, Hermione staring up at him with hungry eyes, Hermione biting her lip, Hermione admitting she'd dreamt about him, Hermione, Hermione, Hermione. It was an endless cycle of Hermione and, surprisingly, Draco didn't want it to stop.

He spent hours analyzing the potion. As he chopped and stirred, Draco conceded that he didn't hate Grang- Hermione anymore; it wasn't in him to feel anything like that for her. And, if Theo and Blaise's bet held any merit, maybe it never was. Whatever those feelings, they had been pushed aside for something else; something he knew shouldn't be there. While he'd changed his tune, Hermione Granger still hated him. Logically he knew that she'd only acted differently last night because she'd been dosed, but it was hard for him to reconcile that with the images playing over and over in his head.

He tried to focus on the ingredients laid out before him, which the diagnostic spell identified made up the mystery lust potion. They indicated a typical lust potion, though the doubled rose thorns meant to override the drinker's ability to say no made his temper flare again. The presence of mistletoe berries explained why Hermione's memory was fuzzy, and continued to support his hypothesis that this dose was specially brewed for Flint. Another ingredient had appeared in the original diagnostic, which confused him. He'd never seen it added to any potion of this sort before. He dithered, holding the feather above the bubbling cauldron, wondering if he'd made a mistake in his original assessment. "I want you," Hermione's voice whispered from the corner of his mind and Draco let it float down from his hand, ignoring the hope growing deep within. After three counterclock stirs, he tested his potion against the sample from the vial.

They matched.

He slumped back into his work chair, finally letting the exhaustion of the night before catch up to him. Draco's mind was grappling with the unexpected ingredient when a crack of apparition startled him.

"Master is wanti-" Tippy stopped short, her jaw hanging open at the sight of him. The little elf ran over to him, hopping onto the table and fussing as he tried to gently bat her imposing hands away. "Is you okay? What happened?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine," he said as he swatted her tiny hand. "Just a minor scuffle last night."

"That is explaining Mistress," Tippy nodded, studying the poorly healed black eye. "She was going in a hurry this morning."

"Going where?" Draco asked, now worried she'd be bothering Hermione, when the witch ought to be resting. He kicked himself for not noticing his mother's absence earlier, when she didn't appear to reprimand him both for his behavior last night and his audacity to skip breakfast.

The elf didn't respond, tsking over his bruised knuckles. "Tippy, did she say where she was going? Tippy!" His patience had worn thin after a night without sleep and his tone came out harsher than he intended. The elf eyed him for a moment.

"Mistress is going on a private errand," the elf responded in a cold tone. "She is not telling Tippy where."

Draco sighed, but decided not to interfere with whatever trouble his mother was getting into now. If it was to see Hermione, he'd have to smooth over whatever trouble she caused later. He sighed, attempting to relax, focusing on the noise of the foaming cauldron over the flame. The noise pulled him back to late night tutoring sessions with his godfather at Hogwarts. Draco realized he had a resource he hadn't used yet, one he could confirm the potion ingredients with before sending his findings to Hermione and the DMLE.