Artificial Love (Dramione)

Chapter 10 - The Plan

Draco hadn't slept a wink last night. And it was all that bloody mudblood's fault, of course.

When dawn had arrived and his roommates had risen from their own beds, Draco sluggishly shut himself into the bathroom. He groaned at the sight of the dark circles under his eyes, not even noticing the raucous state his hair had twisted itself into.

Waving his wand, Draco tried to fix his own appearance. However, he didn't know many beauty spells (More of a witches' thing. And, after all, why would he need it? He was attractive even on his worst days.) and so the bags below his eyes remained.

On his way down to the common room, he grabbed Blaise and dragged him along by the sleeve. Eventually, Blaise started moving alongside Draco on his own. Blaise, disgruntled from being pushed around so early in the morning, slapped Draco on the hand until he let go. Draco barely felt the sting of the slap. His sleep-deprived state was busy focusing all his energy on his own thoughts.

"Mate, you look like you didn't get any sleep last night."

"That's because I didn't, Zabini," Draco said as he fixed his green and silver tie and stretched his neck. A sickly pop made him wince and regret even more so the long night he'd just had.

"I see," Blaise gave him a knowing look, "So you stayed up all night thinking about Granger and how to fix your dilemma, yeah?"

Draco nodded and held up a leather journal, tossing it to his best friend. "The third to last page. I was drifting in and out of consciousness last night, so some of it may be total scrap, but I came up with some ideas."

Blaise leafed through the pages of the book until he reached the page Draco had brought up. The page was crammed from top to bottom in small, illegible handwriting.

"Dude, no one can read your handwriting when it's this small. I can't even read your writing when it's normal sized." Blaise squinted at the highest line of writing, but to him, it might as well have been a different language.

Draco snatched back his journal, scowling at the slam on his handwriting. His handwriting was fine, and if he could read it so could anybody else. He slowed, not wanting to arrive in the very public Great Hall before he had shared his plan with Blaise.

He pointed to a spot in the journal. The writing was so small that even the sharpest of eyes wouldn't be able to pick out the words from a few feet away. Draco, however, held the book out to Blaise mockingly and asked him to read it.

Blaise, not knowing what the hell that big blob of ink meant, shook his head and frowned, shoving the book back at Draco. The two had completely stopped, and there were a few students walking by on their way to breakfast. Some turned to give them disapproving glares and snotty looks as they maneuvered around them.

"We make a cure for the potion. It may take some time since you tampered with the recipe, but I'm pretty confident-"

"When are you not?"

"-that I can figure out a way to disperse the effects. I just have to actually see the effects and original ingredients. Then I can start searching for ingredients. I appreciate the sarcasm there, Blaise."

"Always a pleasure. Anyway, can't you shove a bezoar down her throat or something and be done with it? You know, like, a universal cure and magically she's out of your hair?"

"I don't know how a bezoar would react with your less-than-mediocre potion mixing skills. The unpredictability of it all could cause some equally unpredictable side effects. It's safer to find a cure that's made especially for this potion."

Blaise frowned, then reached back to scratch the back of his neck with a look of what seemed to Draco to be one of hidden panic. "You need to know all the ingredients of the original potion for that, don't you?"

"Don't you bloody tell me you don't remember! I swear, Zabini, if you don't remember, I may not let you survive until the end of this year."

"Well, when you put it that way, I'm sure I'll be able to conjure up some form of a memory."

Draco put his hand to his temple, a very cross look on his face. When he looked back up at Blaise, the emotion had twisted into an eerily neutral look. On the other hand, Draco's voice gave information that pointed instead to borderline hysteria.

"Owl down, white chocolate, and natural white sugar. That's what I told you to put in it. And if we look at the recipes for the potions you used to get your desired effects before I added those ingredients, we should be able to gather enough information to replicate it and then begin to search for ingredients for an antidote."

"So I'm just automatically being pulled into being your accomplice for this?"

"You got me into this mess, so you're gonna help me get out of it too. I might be busy trying to shake off Granger, so you'll gather ingredients and books and all the resources. I'll do the actual potion work. I don't trust that you could do it right."

"Nice to know you've got confidence in me, mate," Blaise said, walking toward the double doors that led to the Dining Hall. "I'm starving and breakfast opened up ten minutes ago. We can discuss your little problem later, but I need food; pronto."

They walked into the Dining Hall together. Draco sat down at the Slytherin table next to Theo, who kept shooting him knowing stares. That prick didn't even know the full story. He had just overheard a conversation Draco and Blaise had had in the common room. But he knew the gist of the problem now. Maybe he could be of some use.

Draco shook his head lightly. He would keep the included persons to a minimum unless absolutely necessary. If Theo came in handy later on though, of course, Draco would take advantage of that.

After nearly finishing his boiled eggs and ham, Draco looked over to see if Granger was down yet. It seemed that not only had she come to eat but that she had finished and was about to leave. He locked eyes with Potter but decided not to let his gaze drop. Let him think what he wanted. He would be wrong anyway. In response, Potter turned to his friends and said something, and then they all turned to look at him.

Draco turned back to his eggs, scarfing down what was left of them. Then he stood up, tucked his journal into his book bag, and stepped away from the table. Granger was leaving the hall, and now might be his only chance to catch her to see if she had reacted to the potion yet without Potter or Weasel around.