A/N: Hi…. Hi. Me again. Yes, I realize it's been years since I updated this, but I finally stumbled onto this old account and thought, what the hell? Why not? For the record, since this was begun prior to me reading Deathly Hallows, this fic is now officially AU, as I began it under the impression that Snape was still alive and I refuse to accept his death now. REFUSE. Though I'm not even sure I still remember where I originally intended to go with this, I'm going to give it a whirl again. Enjoy.

Chapter 6 – Spilled Milk and Chocolate Cake

Hermione Granger sat at her kitchen table, staring at the bowl of cereal she had just poured for herself. She gently rocked back in forth in her chair, humming to herself as she watched the bits of wheat float around and turn to mush in their milky puddle. She knew she should eat something, but her appetite had been scarce ever since that unfortunate incident.

Her time since the event had been spent fretting over every book on love potions that she could manage to get her hands on. She was quite certain at this point that the owner of Flourish and Blott's had a section of books pulled just for her to save the time of having to through the back room to pull out volumes no one had looked at in fifty years. She rather suspected at this point that she had every book in existence on the topic sitting in her living room.

Hermione bit her lip and stared at the clock on the wall, listening to the slow ticking of time passing by, time that Harry was surely spending with Narcissa Malfoy…

The potion would wear off, eventually. Narcissa would not know to re-administer it; in fact, Hermione doubted she had the ability to brew the potion in the first place. Things would get better. They simply had to.

But could she wait that long?

"Damn it all!" She slammed her fist onto the table, knocking her bowl of cereal onto her lap in the process. She jumped up and the bowl clattered onto the floor, cracking into two. Hermione had grown up having the old adage "don't cry over spilled milk" quoted to her on a near daily basis by her father, but unfortunately Mr. Granger's attempts to instill a sense of practicality in his daughter had failed on that one account. Hermione felt foolish for her blubbering, but that did not seem to matter anymore.

She had failed. She had failed to obtain the object of her affection, she had failed at completing a simple task, and now she was failing in her attempts to rectify the situation. She wished for a moment that she were back at Hogwarts, where she never failed.

And then she burst into laughter.

Clearly she, Hermione Jean Granger, had finally cracked.

Yet the answer was so simple. Of course she would return to Hogwarts, the one library at her disposal that would contain the books she could not get her hands on elsewhere. Moreover, it was now the home to two of the most brilliant minds in potions seen in the recent centuries. While she sincerely doubted Severus Snape would be inclined to help her, despite everything that had happened since she had last sat in his classroom.

Horace Slughorn, however… Due to the surprising surge in interest in the art of potion making following Voldemort's defeat, McGonagall had kept both professors on the staff. Slughorn insisted that he would be retiring again in a few years, after Snape had fully recovered from the psychological trauma of the war. And Slughorn was a far easier target. Had it not already been proved that he would give nearly any information to his students if approached correctly?

Hermione did not care that what she was about to do was stupid, reckless, and would potentially reveal her connection to the odd change in Harry's behavior if she was not careful with the questions that she asked. For the first time in what felt like an eternity she had an idea. She had direction! Hermione Jean Granger was moving forward, Hermione Jean Granger was going to fix her mistakes and get her man! Hermione Jean…

Crack.

Crack.

"GRANGER!"

Crack.

Mercifully, Ginny had apparated in front of Malfoy, providing Hermione with a human shield. The small redhead stood in front of the sleek blonde, blocking him with her arms."Malfoy, calm down, we need to handle this like civilized people."

"She's the reason why my mum is acting insane, and you expect me to be calm!"

Hermione looked back and forth between Ginny's pitying face, Malfoy's enraged one, and Ron's confused expression. Taking advantage of Ginny's temporary distraction, Malfoy broke away from her and took a step towards Hermione.

With a squeak of terror, Hermione turned once and was gone.

Harry was oblivious to the stares he and Narcissa were getting. All her could she was her, that glorious woman that sat in front of him, her hand in his. His thumb traced a small, smooth circular pattern.

"You're beautiful," he murmured. He was pleased to see a delicate pink twinge spread on her cheeks.

"Thank you," she replied with a smile. Unfortunately, not having the benefit of being the receiver of the love potion, Narcissa was fully aware of the looks of pure disdain that were being aimed at them all around. "Perhaps we might try a muggle restaurant next time," she suggested after one particularly old witch actually snorted in disgust when she walked by their table.

"It doesn't matter where we go, as long as I am with you."

"You're very sweet."

"It's the truth," he insisted.

Narcissa hid a pleased smile by taking another sip of wine. This was unlike anything she had ever experienced before. Lucius used to be loving enough when it suited him, but he was never one to openly declare his affections in public. With Severus there had been no opportunity to—all their time was spent hiding from her husband. But here, with Harry, it was all in the open for everyone to see.

Harry cut off a piece of his chocolate cake and, with a sly smile, fed it to her across the table.

Yes, she could very well get used to this.

A/N: That's it for now, kids. Leave me a line in a review! Did you love it? Hate it? Feel like cursing me for updating after all these years? Let me know! :D