They continued walking forward, and there was a pure gold cauldron against the wall.
The potion inside shimmered with the lustre of mother-of-pearl, and the rising spiral of steam emitted the most enticing scent Draco had ever smelt: chocolate, the aroma of some kind of rose from his own estate, and a faint hint of green apple.
A surge of immense satisfaction washed over him. He breathed slowly, like an addict who had finally found his drug, his mind reeling.
He heard Slughorn ask cheerfully, "So, children—"
"Amortentia, also called a love potion. It is the most powerful love potion in the world!" He heard Hermione answer enthusiastically. "Everyone smells it differently, which has to do with what attracts us. I can smell freshly mown grass, new parchment, and a faint scent of watermelon…"
Draco could not help but glance at her.
Hermione leant forward unconsciously, getting closer to the cauldron to smell it, a faint blush rising on her face.
She was in a blissful state. Her mind was bombarded by this intoxicating blend of scents.
Familiar yet elegant, fresh yet natural. She could not help but take another deep breath.
"Very good, Hermione. Be careful, this is the most dangerous potion in the room." Hermione did not come to her senses until Slughorn gently closed the lid of the cauldron.
"Yes, it cannot produce real love. It just easily incites a powerful obsession and delusion," Draco added, snapping out of his reverie. This knowledge was nothing new to him.
"Mr Slughorn, why are you brewing these potions?" Draco asked suspiciously.
"Ah, it is purely a favour. Even the most skilled Potion Master will become rusty if they do not practise for a long time; besides, it adds a bit of fun to life, and also some Galleons." Slughorn said cheerfully, winking at him. "Who would have reckoned that retiring would make me busier than being the Head at Hogwarts? I have told them so many times that I am too old to take on this responsibility, but several apothecaries are still vying to write to me to buy potions."
"All right, let us get back to the point!" He cleared his throat and pointed to the book Advanced Potion-Making on the corner of the workbench. "The real test for you has arrived. Use the guide in this book to prepare a Draught of Living Death. I do not expect you to be able to make a perfect potion, but the potion's effects will affect my assessment of your potion-making talents."
History is repeating itself!
Draco felt annoyed when he reckoned of the horrible mess he had created in his previous life.
It is another case of using sopophorous beans to concoct the Draught of Living Death! This is truly alarming.
But that did not mean he was unprepared. In fact, he was very confident.
A Malfoy would never make the same mistake twice. After that lesson, I consulted Professor Snape and learnt a little trick. Besides, those Potions notes Professor Snape had given me earlier were not given for nothing.
"How should we divide the work?" Hermione asked, her voice tinged with nervousness, still recovering from the "Amortentia attack."
"I shall use the knife, you weigh it," Draco said, picking up a small silver knife with a detached expression, a certain fragrance seemingly lingering in his nostrils.
"All right." She quickly looked down, checked the required materials and dosages against the book Advanced Potion-Making, fiddled with the brass balance and weights, and said after a while, "The valerian root is ready."
Draco took the bunch of valerian roots from her and quickly began to chop them, trying to make them even.
Hermione felt a warmth on her palm where his fingertips had touched her. She shook her hand and began pouring distilled water into a beaker using a graduated cylinder, then weighed the required amount of African Sea Salt using a balance.
She had no time to reckon about what was in her hands. She was busy pouring the bluish-green salt into a beaker. Whilst waiting for it to dissolve, she diligently weighed the powdered root of asphodel on a scale, amidst the sound of the boy chopping valerian roots.
Slughorn looked around, examining the cauldrons still simmering with potions for a long time. He glanced sideways at the two people busy at the workbench, listening intently to their conversation.
"The Sea Salt has dissolved," she said.
"Then I shall start the fire." He waved his wand under the cauldron, and a blue flame shot out.
"Beaker," he said simply. He reached out and took the Sea Salt mixture she handed him, tilted the beaker, and carefully poured it down the side of the pot.
"Fire!" The girl peeked over the pot and reminded him.
"Do not rush, let us warm it up." He put down the beaker, waved the hawthorn wand, and the fire intensified, turning orange-red.
She soaked the valerian root that the boy had cut into a beaker. "It is cut very evenly," she said with satisfaction. Without stopping, she began pouring the wormwood infusion into a measuring cylinder.
"Of course." He said with a hint of pride, observing the pale blue steam rising from the cauldron, and reminded her, "It is wormwood infusion."
"Here it comes." She took the measuring cylinder and walked to the cauldron. After he waved his wand and tilted the cauldron forward, she poured half of the wormwood infusion into it, rubbing it against the side of the pot.
"The other side," she said decisively. He did as she said and waved his wand again, tilting the cauldron backward.
"I shall do it," he suddenly realised, taking the remaining half of the measuring cylinder, afraid that she would be splashed by the boiling potion in the cauldron, "You go weigh the sopophorous beans."
"All right. Remember to turn the heat to medium." She smiled slightly, turned around, grabbed a handful of lively, bouncy sopophorous beans from the medicine cabinet, and went back to the balance scale.
Any experienced Potions Master could tell that this was an exceptionally well-coordinated potions-making duo. Their roles were clearly defined and their work was methodical. Slughorn was certain that these two students must have collaborated frequently in their Potions classes at Hogwarts.
At this moment, Hermione was evenly sprinkling powdered root of asphodel into the cauldron, whilst Draco was filtering the valerian root infusion in the beaker with a fine cotton cloth.
"Hermione?" He looked up at her.
"The potion has turned blackcurrant colour." She looked at his expression and answered knowingly, then flicked her wand, turning the fire back into a small, bluish flame.
"Valerian root extract," he said, handing her the dropper. "Be careful not to burn yourself whilst it is being dripped."
"I know." She took it carefully, her fingertips touching it, and her face flushed slightly.
Then, without blinking, she gently squeezed the dropper and counted the drops of potion.
Draco glanced at her serious profile, smiled slightly, took the sopophorous beans she had weighed, and began to crush the beans with the side of a knife, and a large amount of juice immediately seeped out.
"The potion has turned dark purple," she said softly, glancing at him.
He handed her the crushed sopophorous beans, saying, "Squeeze them one by one, squeeze out the juice."
"It seems to be in the book—"
"Listen to me this once, give it a try," he said, picking up a crushed sopophorous bean to demonstrate for her.
Hermione squeezed it out, and a large amount of the sopophorous bean juice dripped into the cauldron. The potion turned a pale lilac colour.
"How was it?" There was a hint of smugness in his tone.
"Not bad." She glared at him, feeling helpless at his unconventional behaviour.
Watching this smooth and effortless potion-making process is truly a pleasure, Slughorn reckoned.
This is not only because the two of them are both very skilled at handling potions, but more importantly, they know what to do next with just a word or two, or a glance. They even trust each other completely, just like a flowing poem.
Hermione is serious and focused, meticulous and rigorous in her operations, and has strong execution ability. She has a strong control over the overall time and details of the steps. Draco, on the other hand, has a wild imagination and does not completely follow the so-called rules. However, his seemingly casual operations follow a certain pattern and have a maturity and skill that is not commensurate with his age.
In my eyes, these two are no ordinary people. I have gained two talented students out of nowhere!
Humming a song, he strolled out of the potions laboratory with his hands behind his back, intending to pour himself a glass of fine mead.
At this moment, Hermione was extremely satisfied with the change in colour of the potion in the cauldron.
"The last step," she said casually, picking up the stirring rod and preparing to stir the potion anticlockwise according to the method in Advanced Potion-Making.
One, two, three... When she was stirring for the seventh time, her hand was suddenly grasped by his—which stopped her stirring.
"What is wrong?" She turned to look at Draco, puzzled, only to find his face inches away.
His pale grey eyes were fixed intently on her as he asked, "Hermione, do you trust me?"
"Of course." Her face flushed, then she said seriously, "Now is not the time to talk about this; the potion is at a crucial moment—"
"Listen to me this time. Stir it clockwise once, then anticlockwise seven times." Draco gazed at her. "This potion is also very important to me. Trust me, I shall not do anything reckless."
"You always mess things up like this," Hermione complained, her heart pounding, her voice full of doubt. "You have absolutely no respect for books."
However, out of trust in him—his special handling of the sopophorous beans had just yielded a good result—she gave up gripping the stirring rod.
Draco was then able to take her hand and gently yet firmly turn her around clockwise.
He said softly, "What is in the books is not necessarily true. The more advanced the potion, the more you need to figure it out yourself."
Hermione frowned, looking worriedly at the colour of the potion, trying to understand the true meaning of Draco's words.
Whilst she was distracted, Draco took her hand and continued stirring with seven anticlockwise and one clockwise motion.
To keep his balance, he braced his other hand on the table to her left, almost encircling her in his arms—a position that was too close. So close that it made her face heat up, even feel hot.
In this situation, she completely forgot that she still had to argue with Draco about how to stir the potion, and instead became inexplicably nervous, suddenly remembering the scent of the Amortentia she had smelt before.
I must still be recovering! Hermione wondered, puzzled. Is the potion really that potent? When making potions, I always have a vague feeling that something is wrong, as if the smell is lingering around me.
Draco did not notice Hermione's unease. He was intently leaning closer to the cauldron, anxiously watching the colour of the potion. After all, he was only discussing it on paper using Professor Snape's notes and had never actually brewed the improved version of the Draught of Living Death.
The room was quiet, save for the faint bubbling of the potion simmering in the cauldron. His face was close to her hair, and he caught a whiff of the faint scent of green apples, a scent that made his heart skip a beat—just then, the potion changed from a pale lilac colour to a clear, pale lilac.
"It is done!" Draco laughed, ignoring the slight skip in his heartbeat.
He held her hand carefully until he took the stirring rod out of the cauldron and placed it in the measuring cup beside him. "Hermione, keep a close eye on it. I am going next door to find Mr Slughorn."
"All right," Hermione reluctantly agreed. Her mind was in turmoil, unsure whether it was because of his proximity and touch, or because of his haphazard potion-making process.
Slughorn, holding his half-finished mead, slowly walked to the cauldron to examine the results—a smile of surprise and delight spread across his face.
"Excellent! Wonderful! This pot of Draught of Living Death you brewed is flawless! You are truly masters. I wager you are the most outstanding in your year." Slughorn finished his mead in one gulp with satisfaction, looking smug, like an antique buyer who had just struck gold.
"I shall make an exception this time." He blinked his watery, light green eyes, rubbed his fat belly contentedly, and said to them in an almost whispered voice, "You have come to the right place. I have just gathered enough ingredients for a small portion of Felix Felicis and I am going to brew it soon."
Draco and Hermione were instantly invigorated. They exchanged a glance, seeing excitement in each other's eyes.
Slughorn continued gleefully, "There is no time like the present, let us do it today. Tonight at nine o'clock, you two will come and be my assistants. How much you learn depends on your aptitude!"