Draco was under the impression that it would just be the two of them in the Room later that day, but Harry was there when he opened the door. Their last interaction fresh on his mind, the Slytherin slunk into his corner and propped his feet up with a book, clearly waiting.

Harry didn't seem to care that Draco wasn't interested in engaging him and confronted him with a, "You could have told me about Snape."

"And what have you done with that information? You haven't got the brains to put two and two together." Draco drawled from behind the drapes, peering sneakily over the top of the book he wasn't even pretending to read.

"What do you mean by that?" Harry answered, disturbed and confused all at once.

Draco stood up in one fluid motion, setting his book down as he did so. "While you're busy pining over Hermione, you didn't even notice that she's got feelings for the Weasel."

"I don't pine–" Harry started to say, but was rudely cut off by Draco who was coming closer now.

"Save the denials for someone who might actually believe them, Potter." He hissed, looming over him and the homework Harry had spread out.

"I haven't got the time, nor the energy, quite frankly, for any of your propensity for teenage romance–" at the sight of Draco getting ready to speak, he quickly interjected with "–anyone with eyes knows about you and Pansy–now, in case you haven't noticed, Voldemort has tried to murder me every year since I've been to Hogwarts... Where would I even find the time?" Harry retorted, hoping that he didn't know about Cho, while craning his neck to maintain eye contact with the Slytherin whose face was now inches from his.

"Easy, just stop coming then." Draco said sarcastically before straightening and looking at the door as if the conversation bored him.

"Don't take your frustrations out on me when you're the one who fancies her."

"I do not–" The words were out of Draco's mouth before he could stop them but Harry was ready. He reflected Draco's earlier words back at him.

"Save your denials, Malfoy."

At that, the Slytherin slunk into a nearby couch, lacing his fingers together and balancing one calf on a knee.

"Myrtle told me that Selgentar called Professor Snape a traitor before she left Hogwarts," Draco drawled after enough time had passed.

"So I hear," Harry replied.

"If she thinks he's a traitor, he must be on our side, then." Draco only just noticed a fireplace and he glanced at it confused. "Where do you think the smoke goes?"

"What do I know, it's magic, isn't it. Eager to dump your burdens on an adult, aren't you?"

"Why are you so temperamental?" Draco sighed, sinking deeper into the couch, "Why do you feel the need to shoulder all responsibility?"

"Because Harry can't help but take matters into his own hands," came the reply as Hermione's bushy head appeared, a wry smile on her lips. "Glad to see the two of you getting along."

"We weren't..." Mumbled Harry, whose eyes immediately went to Draco. He saw exactly what he expected to see, Draco standing up and greeting Hermione as jubilantly as a Malfoy could. There were equal parts of arrogance and delight in his face as he appraised her.

Then, they shared a look that made Harry queasy.

"We were just talking about Snape. Draco here thinks that we should tell him all our plans and invite him into our little anti-Voldemort-brigade." Harry said with a sneer. It was so unlike him, but he chalked it up to spending too much time in the toxic fumes of a particular Slytherin.

"Back to our first names, I see." Draco retorted, tilting his head back ever so slightly to look across the room at Harry, which made him the splitting image of his father. "Secondly, what plans? We haven't got a clue what we're doing."

"Hasn't Professor Slughorn agreed to come? We'll get the memory from him then, and Dumbledore will be able to tell us what to do."

The resort was on Draco's lips and he couldn't help himself, "Eager, Potter?"

Hermione glanced quizzically at the both of them, wondering what he meant, because the intensity behind his words seemed to imply more. But when Harry didn't rise to his bait, she decided that they were simply sparring with words.

"Right, so, Harry..." Hermione said after it was clear Draco wasn't going to get a response, "I think that you might need this." She lifted a small vial out of her robes and held it up. The molten liquid still dancing within its container.

"I doubt you'd need the whole thing, but here, take it."

Harry took the potion from Hermione's outstretched palm, handling it with utmost care.

"Thanks, Hermione." He said, in equal parts awe and gratitude.

"Make sure you get that memory." Hermione replied firmly.

The days leading up to Christmas break merged together in one big blur. Harry could barely focus in his classes, despite knowing that he has a vial of liquid luck on his side. Hermione was determined to throw herself into redecorating the Room of Requirements and managed to smuggle some mead with Draco's help. Ron, while completely oblivious to the consequences of his romance with Lavender, did not forget about the quest on hand.

"It's tonight, isn't it?" Ron asked between classes as Lavender went to Divinations.

"Yes," Hermione answered curtly.

"Have you got everything you need, then?" Ron supplied quickly, relieved that Hermione seemed to be on speaking terms with him again.

"Yes, just make sure you don't bring an extra guest." She said scathingly.

"I haven't even mentioned it," Ron started off sheepishly, but something about Hermione's words rubbed him the wrong way, "Why couldn't I bring her if I wanted to? It's a party, isn't it?"

"Maybe if you hadn't been so busy, snogging whenever either of you had a spare moment, you might understand how important our party is." Hermione growled, fury filling the pit of her stomach. "You have no clue, do you? How much we depend on Harry getting the memory tonight?"

Hermione shook her head condescendingly before storming off to her next class.

"Of course I know how important it is!" Ron shouted after her before turning to Harry who had been walking in silence, "Mental, that one."

"No, Ron... We're all under a lot of pressure and I know you're really busy with Lavender, but–er... maybe it's not a good idea to bring her tonight."

"I wasn't going to, mate. I'm not that thick. I just wanted her to know that, well, if she can be friends with a snake, I can snog whomever I fancy! It's a free country, innit?"

Under different circumstances, Harry might have said something different. But being as preoccupied as he was, he couldn't find the energy.

"Yeah... okay."

It wasn't until dinner did the three reunite. Harry was relieved to see that his two friends were being cordial with one another. Ron seemed to have extracted himself from Lavender, who was currently chatting excitedly with Parvati.

Seeing Harry's long face, Hermione reminded him about Felix Felicis, but there was no cheering up Harry... he was thinking about all his failed attempts and he knew that he wasn't going to get another chance after tonight.

The three finished their dinner as quickly as they could – Ron only had two helpings – and disappeared to the Room of Requirements so when Draco arrived with Professor Slughorn, everything was set up to perfection. Fairies glittered above head in translucent baubles, adding a festive flair to the richly wreathed room.

"What is this?" Professor Slughorn announced as he walked over the threshold. "A secret club? But how–?"

He took his time to look around and marvelled at the decor.

"Such impeccable taste," the professor muttered to himself as he picked at the heavy fabric that partially obscured Draco's corner. Then he went over to Hermione's side of the room, where a huge bay window doubled as a reading corner, with books stuffed to the brim on either side of its shelves. In the daytime, it was enchanted to look out into a meadow, but now that it was night, the starry sky seemed to wink back mischievously. There was also a fluffy carpet and a scratching post for Crookshanks.

When he came to Ron's patchwork sofa, he couldn't help but sink into it because it looked so welcoming. The wall behind the sofa was filled with medals and posters of Quidditch players and one cabinet held a vintage boomstick. Whether it was a replica or not, neither of them would ever know.

The professor stopped short at what he presumed to be Harry's station. It was bland and almost devoid of any character, with the most impressionable item being a hand-carved snitch that sat desolate on the table.

"I was almost expecting a potions set," the professor said gently, turning around to look at Harry but finding all four of them standing right behind him. "You're gifted, boy, just as your mother was..."

While the professor was inspecting the room, Harry had gone ahead and taken a sip of Felix Felicis and he was beginning to feel the effects of it taking home. He felt lighter and it put a spring in his step.

"Yes, yes," Harry said, letting the potion guide his tongue, "I suppose I would always have that part of her." He thrust a goblet of mead towards his Potions Professor.

"And her eyes," Slughorn continued, "A toast to Lily Evans, one of the brightest muggle-born witches I have ever known... until now." He tacked on as he caught sight of Hermione and he lifted his goblet towards her before taking a deep swig.

"So, how did you come across this place?" The professor asked as he took a seat in the common area of the room, opting for an armchair over a beanbag.

The trio launched into a tale of needing a place to teach themselves Defence Against the Dark Arts when "Umbridge the toad" oppressed Hogwarts and how she abused her position of power, going so far as to threaten the use of an Unforgivable Curse on Harry.

"You have surely suffered, m'boy..." The professor said in subdued tones, the mead slowly going to his head.

"But still, you refuse to help me," Harry said quietly.

"It's not that I don't want to help you, Harry–"

"You have it in you, the final piece of the puzzle we need in order to defeat him, professor. Please..." Harry made sure to lock eyes with Slughorn, because that was what the potion commanded. Let him feel the full potency of your mother's eyes, it seemed to whisper.

Slughorn looked away in shame, "I'm not brave, m'boy... as you can see, I'm not a Gryffindor..." He tried for a feeble joke.

"Neither am I." Draco spoke up which startled the professor as he had almost forgotten the existence of the other three. "Yet here I am, plotting against him, while he tortures innocents while we're forced to watch."

"How many more people have to suffer, professor, because of one sorry, embarrassing moment you do not wish to relive?" Harry tacked on.

"I–it was just–he was such a charming boy–"

"And why should we judge you for being beguiled by a manipulative–" Hermione began and the professor waved her argument aside.

"I've heard it all before. Dumbledore has been kind enough to place no part of the blame on me, though, he must suspect... I'm sure..." The professor rambled on, seemingly to himself, and Harry shot a look at Draco and looked pointedly at the mead.

In return, Draco gave him a smug smirk and Harry could almost hear him now: Firewhiskey from my father's own wares.

"Inaction is also a choice and if you choose not to help us, whatever Voldemort does or whoever he kills next... that responsibility is yours to bear..."

The professor's lips quivered at Hermione's words, spoken as gently as she could, but her tender tones couldn't disguise the harsh truth.

"We've made our choice, professor. What is yours?" Draco said in challenging tones.

"Be brave," Harry encouraged, "be brave like my mother..."

Professor Slughorn let his eyes fall on Harry. With the firewhisky gone to his head, he couldn't quite tell whether it was Harry or James standing in front of him, but when Harry glanced up, all of a sudden, he was transported back in time, where a little girl with deep red hair told him the best way to extract the juice from a Sopophorous bean was the crush it – the cheek!

A ghost of a smile appeared on the professor's face as he reached into his pocket and retrieved his wand.

"For Lily..."

They all watched in amazement as Professor Slughorn drew a fine wisp of smoke from his temple and stashed it gently into a small vial that Harry, who had anticipated this moment thanks to the lucky potion, supplied.

"I know this doesn't look like much," the professor heaved, holding back a sob, "but it is all that I have left to give. All my dignity and guilt... take it, Harry, and don't say I never lifted a finger for Lily's boy..."

"There, there, professor," Hermione said, patting him awkwardly on the arm, "Would you like to return to your chambers?"

"Yes, I would like that very much..." The professor looked spent, as though he had been waging a war for a great many years, only to have given in to it now... And indeed he has, for the secret he had shared in his memory was one that has hounded him. Every time he learnt of a grievous act committed by Voldemort, it was another accusation thrown in his face. He facilitated Tom Riddle's descent into darkness and gave him the necessary tools to continue terrorising the wizarding world even after Lily's sacrifice... Perhaps this was exactly what he needed to do in order to redeem himself in his own eyes.

"Ron, do you mind?" Harry requested as he clutched the vial to his chest with both hands, brimming with excitement to bring it to Dumbledore right that instant.

Ron nodded and grabbed the professor by the arm gently, "Come on, then."

Draco stood up to assist Ron, but when he saw that Hermione stayed seated, he pretended that he was simply finding a more comfortable spot to lie down. Ron shot him a nasty look but he wasn't looking at that particular Gryffindor.

"I suppose you must think yourself rather clever," Hermione said with an amused smile when the door clicked behind Harry, Ron, and Professor Slughorn.

"You'd be surprised at how often I find myself thinking the very opposite," he admitted. Something about what they had just witnessed put him in a pensive mood.

Maybe it was seeing how Professor Slughorn was able to be convinced to do the right thing, though deep down inside, Draco felt that the professor's resolve crumbled far too easily. It was hard not to judge, when he learnt it at his father's knee.

Hermione turned to look at Draco, who had chosen to lounge on the floor, with one arm carelessly close to her feet up on the sofa.

"Really? Draco Malfoy doesn't hold himself in the highest regard?" Hermione said teasingly.

"Hah!" Draco barked, "If I held myself in any regard, I wouldn't have joined sheep who put on airs and call themselves Death Eaters."

"You didn't have a choice, did you? Not really?" Hermione said in what she hoped was a reassuring voice.

Draco lifted his head to meet her eyes before shaking it ever so slightly, "We always have a choice, don't we?"

They stared at each other for a moment, all playfulness gone.

"I wish I could stay here forever." He admitted, "Never needing to face the life I no longer want or go back to the dungeons and pretend I'm still the Draco Malfoy they expect me to be..." He lay his head against the couch and closed his eyes. If only there were a potion that was able to let him start from the beginning, what could he have done differently that still ensured a comfortable life?

As he was contemplating his life of luxury and superiority, he felt something warm touch his hand and he jerked his head up just in time to see Hermione give his hand a little squeeze.

"You know what's brave?" She said with a hopeful smile, "Embracing change. Harry lived in a cupboard for the first eleven years of his life, imagine how scary it was for him to learn that there were people who cared deeply for him? Maybe it's scary for you too, maybe it's scarier for you, because Harry had a life he was desperate to leave behind, but you... you have a home you can't bear to leave... And, I know a little of what you might be going through..." Hermione took a deep breath, unsure of how to continue. She had never said it out loud, much less to another soul. Even Harry didn't know of her diabolical plans, in fact, he would have forbidden it.

Draco waited patiently as Hermione composed herself and he gave her a reassuring squeeze in return, grasping her hand and letting her know that he was there for her.

"I've entertained the idea of obliterating my parents, to keep them safe and to make sure they don't worry when... or if... the need arises. I just can't bear the thought–" Hermione broke off mid-sentence, unable to continue as tears began trickling down her face.

"I'm not a big crier," she said with a laugh after wiping her eyes dry, "and you've seen me cry twice now." Hermione laughed again, trying to downplay her sudden emotional state.

She felt a sudden pressure on the hand that was clasped with Draco's and in one effortless movement, he pulled her off the couch and caught her as she fell.

Neither of them said anything at first. Draco was overcome with the urge to comfort her and didn't care if he overstepped some boundary between them. Hermione was simply just too shocked by the gesture she considered to be both kind and... intimate.

"I'd cry too if I had to obliviate my parents... However, I absolutely would not cry because some half-wit decided to snog my classmate..."

Hermione seemed to relax at his familiar ridicule and turned her head slightly so she could lie more comfortably on his chest.

"Also, instead of obliviating my parents, I'd just use a False Memory Charm," Draco continued and Hermione smiled, recognising that uncontrollable urge to correct someone or offer advice.

She listened to how his voice sounded muffled and the deep thudding of his heart, thinking about how everyone was the same and yet people could feel so differently about a warm body or a heartbeat. This was her little slice of peace.

How ironic it was to find comfort in the arms of a boy who once jeered at her, who found ways to make himself unbearable, who slithered into her life and found a place to stay.