She drizzled the acid, added the distilled water, and prepared the second cauldron with honey paste. She felt his eyes on her hands as she worked, though she refused to look up to confirm. The steam rose as the cauldron bubbled, and she wondered why Slytherins always brewed their potions in the most ill-conceived underground locations. Sweat rolled down the back of her neck, and she pushed her hair over her shoulder as her curls expanded.

He stood by her side, stepping in silently when it was time for wandwork. She scribbled her findings into an empty notebook nearby.

Ashwinder eggs, rose petals, and moonstone for the obsessive euphoria. He was right about the asphodel, possibly for a bit of drowsiness. Porcupine quills to add enhance the euphoria. Sneezewort for confusion and a bit of recklessness.

Mixed with the hair of the intended partner, the drinker would become dizzy and confused until their skin touched their partner's. The confusion would fade and the obsession would begin, euphoria spiking. Pulling away from the partner would bring back the confusion and dizziness.

Hermione frowned down at her notes. It would wear off eventually, but it could take hours.

"Have you ever used this potion at the parties? On a Carrow Girl?" she asked, breaking the hour-long silence.

"No. But I've seen it."

She stared down at the ingredients list. "We should be able to make an antidote fairly easily. I can take it before the party on Friday, and then when I'm given the potion, I can mimic its effects."

When no response came, she looked up to find him facing her, leaning one hip on the lab table, his lips pursed and eyes fixed on the floor.

"Malfoy?"

He didn't look up. "Granger, every eye will be on you next week. Not just Montague and Pucey and the others. Flint is planning quite the spectacle, and most of the guests are interested in you already. Even without the potion."

His jaw clenched, like he was stopping himself from saying more.

She crossed her arms. "You're suggesting that I wouldn't be convincing?"

He paused, and tilted his head. "How do you suggest we steer clear of penetrative sex while your… obsessive lust drives you?"

She felt a blush rise in her neck and watched the same flush spread over his cheekbones.

"I see," she said, throat tight. "Have you had penetrative sex in the Lounge before?"

His eye twitched and he shook his head, still focused on the floor.

"Then perhaps it's your preference to stick to more minor acts while in public. That's something you can sell, right?"

He took a deep breath, and the frustrated sigh on his exhale prickled the back of her neck.

"And what 'minor acts' are you suggesting we engage in, Granger?"

She swallowed, listening to her throat click loudly in the small room. She searched for the words to articulate—

He grabbed the honey paste and distilled water from the table and capped them. "I've let you break down the potion. I 'owed you' that." He turned from her, putting away the ingredients on the shelf. "But you've never seen girls on this potion. It's humiliating. Degrading. You have no idea what it does—"