Previously on IDTTPJ: Draco got his memories back a few weeks ago after Snape told him about the Mind Wipe potion and its antidote. Hermione and Draco are serving detention and Draco gave her the antidote.

Ch. 22 Side Effect

Hermione felt sick. What had possessed her to drink something from Draco?

"Ugh, you said it was an antidote. What was that?" Her stomach cramped and she leaned over the edge of her chair and vomited into the bucket of dead lizards. She'd have been embarrassed if she wasn't so nauseous.

"Cat urine," Draco said, moving to hold her steady as she vomited again.

"Cat urine?" She tried to shrug him off. "Draco, what the hell?"

"Just give it a sec," he said. And at that moment, memories started pooling into her head. Her eyes glazed over and she watched her memories play like home-movies. "Merlin," she whispered.

A crash broke the still room as Snape threw open the door; his face wore an expression of severe annoyance. "I was under the misconception that two NEWT level students could follow simple instructions. How foolish of me to think–" his eyes fell to Hermione, then to Draco. "What'd you do to her?"

At this point, Hermione had lost all control of her mind. Her head was swimming with so many conversations and experiences that she couldn't tell which were in her head and which were happening right now. She laid her head on the table and groaned.

"Me? Nothing," Draco said moving a clump of hair off her face, "she's sick."

"Sick?" Snape watched the gentle way Draco caressed the girl's cheek and he thought he might be sick as well. "And I suppose this had nothing to do with it?" he said, lifting the empty glass from the table and sniffing it from a distance.

Draco said nothing. Both knew what had been in that glass and what had caused Hermione's illness. A puddle of drool was forming on the table beneath her mouth and Snape rolled his eyes. "Get her out of here. While she's still breathing."


Hermione awoke in a room she didn't recognize. A large bed with soft ivory-coloured sheets and tall wooden bedposts surrounded her. Her head felt fuzzy and too heavy to lift, but grogginess kept her from being alarmed. She rolled toward the room and her stomach flipped painfully.

"How are you feeling?" Draco's voice startled her.

She groaned. "Peachy." Her voice was hoarse from sleep. "What's going on?"

He sat on a couch across the room, looking strangely nervous. "You got sick in detention after you drank the–"

"Cat urine?" she said, "Right." She looked around the room finding a lit fireplace on one wall and several faded tapestries on another. "Where are we?"

"The room of requirement. It did this for you." Draco stood and came to the bed. "So, you remember everything now?"

Hermione snorted. So much had changed in the last hour (or however long it had been, since detention). "Yeah, I think so."

Draco stood awkwardly. He'd been thinking of what she would say when she awoke. Would she forgive him for what happened that day in the empty classroom? Or would she want nothing more to do with him. "Mad, isn't it?"

Hermione smiled placidly. "Yes, it's rather strange" Her mind was sorting through the memories, reorganizing itself. "How did you find out about the potion? I mean, how long have you had your memories back?"

"Not long," he said, "two weeks."

Two weeks, fourteen days. "Why did you wait so long to tell me?"

He had to think carefully before speaking. The truth was that he had been selfish and afraid. "Because I remembered how it was before we took the Mind Wipe and I didn't want to go back to that."

Hermione studied his face. He seemed genuine. She too remembered how it had been before. They would fight, have a relapse, and then fight some more. She didn't want that again either. "Yeah…So that day, when you pulled me out of class to, er –"

He cut her off and she was grateful. "Yeah."

"That was a relapse, wasn't it?"


They were both quiet for awhile. Neither wanted to relive that day.

"So," Hermione said, "I'll probably have the relapses again too; what are we going to do about that?"

He sat down on the bed. Close enough to touch her. "I don't know," he said. The mood in the room was sober and uncomfortable. He felt like something needed to be done to break the tension. "Actually, I can think of one thing that could keep our lust under control–" He ran a finger up her arm and Hermione stiffened.

"Too soon?" he asked plopping onto his back and smiling. "I'm just kidding, Hermione, I'm sure you'll think of something."

"Right," she said smiling a little herself. "I just hope it's soon enough."

Draco propped himself up and nodded. Somewhere in the room a clock chimed twice. "Two o'clock already?" he said. "You should probably get back. I'm sure your friends will be missing you."

"Yes, of course." Hermione said. "I'll owl you if I think of something."

Draco slid off the bed and helped Hermione to her feet. "Can I walk you back?"

She found her wand on the nightstand and straightened her skirt. "No thank you," she said heading for the door. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay," he said nodding, "goodnight." xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It had been three days and still no owl from Hermione. And although in the grand scheme of things, three days was an insignificant period of time, to Draco it felt much longer.

In class, Hermione was quiet, giving him half-smiles, but not speaking. And when he greeted her, she would politely respond, but add nothing more.

It made him nervous. He felt like he was standing on the edge of a cliff and the slightest thing, a thought, a glimpse of her leg, could send him off the edge. He hadn't even wanked for fear of losing control. Hermione obviously didn't realize how easy it was for a bloke his age to get horny. Even his dreams were betraying him. Last night, he'd awoken from a dream drenched in sweat and on the verge of a relapse. He'd resorted to pulling out clumps of arm hair as a distraction.

This morning, he'd come up with a plan. Before breakfast, he'd been to Madame Pomfrey and convinced her to prescribe a calming draught to help with his nerves…about the war, he'd told her.

And now he was in class, painfully hard and unable to concentrate. He uncorked the bottle and sipped the thick liquid. Within moments, he felt some of the tension ebb. For the rest of the day he sipped the draught and by dinner, he felt completely hazy and drugged.

In the Great Hall, Draco felt so disconnected that he slurped down a bowl of vegetable soup and left without saying a word to anyone. Once back in his room, he stared at the ceiling in his bed, eyes half closed, heart beat slowed, with one part of his anatomy fully awake. His hand moved down below his waist and gripped his erection. The move was instinctual and when he realized what he was doing, he ripped his hand away as if burned.

Frustrated, he pulled the pillow out from under his head, smothered his face and shouted obscenities at the top of his lungs.


At the same time in another part of the castle, Hermione was also lying in her bed staring at the ceiling. It had been three days since she got her memories back but she felt just as confused as she had on the first day.

Lavender had invited her to go down to the lake, but she'd refused. She felt completely sapped of energy.

Once alone, Hermione was able to let her thoughts roam.

She still liked Draco; getting her memories back hadn't changed that, but something was bugging her. Could he be trusted? How long had he really had his memories back? She wondered if he'd really ever lost them. He was never particularly nice to her in the past. So what, after forgetting all about the lust potion, would make him like her the second time?

And more than that, were her feelings for him real? She wondered if the passion would still be there if there had never been a lust potion.


The next morning, Hermione awoke again to thoughts of Draco. She wondered what he was doing and how he was feeling. As of late, he'd been trying to talk to her, but she'd been doing her best to avoid him. She just wasn't sure what she wanted to happen. And, she had no idea how to stop the relapses from happening.

She'd been using her time to think and to research, but so far, the only plausible solution to the relapses was another dose of the Mind Wipe. Hermione felt, and she was sure that Draco would agree, taking the potion again was out of the question.

She thought back to that first day in the Great Hall when she was under the influence of the lust potion. She remembered the feeling of attraction, an attraction more powerful than any she'd felt before. She remembered how freeing it was to kiss him in front of everyone without worry. She remembered leaving with him, feeling everyone's eyes on her back, and being excited, not embarrassed, and then she started remembering her real first time.

It had been different than her second. She was a lucky girl to have had two. But the real first one had been…well, thrilling. She couldn't think of a word that fit better. She'd never felt such strong lust and she'd never experienced an orgasm or the satisfaction it brought.

Her body began to react to the memory. Revisiting it after being without for so long made it seem fresh, new, and hot. She felt warm and impulsive and she felt like letting go of her accountability. She was going to relapse and she would let it happen.

Ten minutes later, an exasperated Hermione headed to the girls shower room. She wanted to laugh at the absurdity of a girl needing a cold shower and even more at the fact that she'd wanted to have carefree sex with Draco but ended up frustrated with no relapse. She was horny but it was an ordinary horny. Not the, "I need Draco or I'll die" horny.

Once in the shower room, she threw off her clothes and dashed under the spray of icy water.


"I don't know, Millie, I don't think it's you. He's been like that all week."

It was Parkinson's voice and Hermione knew who she was talking about. The halls were busy with students heading to class, but Pansy's voice carried above everyone else. Hermione slowed her walk until the two Slytherin girls were directly behind her.

"Well he should snap out of it. I need to copy his Transfiguration notes," said Millicent.

Pansy said, "Don't count on it. I don't think he took any. Draco hasn't done a speck of school-work since Monday. He just sits there like a zombie. Like he does at dinner. Frankly, I'm a little worried."

Millicent mumbled something inaudible, then said, "Well, haven't you talked to him?"

"That's the thing," Pansy said. "I've tried. I think he's depressed. I went to his room yesterday and he wouldn't even open the door. He told me to go away, said he was fine."

Hermione felt her face pale. Was Draco's behavior her fault?

When she got back to her dorm, she dug through her trunk and found her message ring. Meet me tonight. To talk, she wrote. It was time to face him.


He was in their lounge waiting for her when she arrived. He looked like hell: glazed, blood-shot eyes, messy hair, pale(r than usual) skin.

"Hello," she said, closing the door behind her.

"Hi." He tried to smile, but the corners of his mouth drooped strangely. "How've you been?"

He was sitting in a chair, more like collapsed in a chair, looking ready to fall asleep.

"A fair share better than you, I'd guess," Hermione said.

Draco raised his brows and shrugged.

"What's the matter with you?" Hermione asked. "You look terrible."

"Well," he said dragging one arm to the pocket of his cloak. "It's here somewheres," he mumbled.

"Your friends think you're depressed. Did you know?"

He said nothing until he began to pull his hand from his pocket.

"Fuck 'em," he said holding up the potion bottle for her to see. "S'nothing serious, just a lil messiden, er medicine."

Another potion? He was nutters! "Is that…are you on drugs?"

He smiled that strange smile again and rocked the potion back and forth between his fingers. "'S only a calming draught. From Old Pomfrey."

She took the bottle from him and sniffed the contents. It smelled ordinary. "Then why are you acting so out of it?"

He tilted his head up to look at her, squinting at the light. "'Cause I drank it."

The standard dose for a calming draught was 30 ml every four hours. This bottle was large enough to hold six doses. "All of it?"

He closed his eyes and his head lulled to the side. "Yeh, half an hour ago."

"What?" She saw him wince, like her voice was painful. "We have to get you to hospital. You could overdose."

He shook his head. "No, 'm good. Have done it before."

"Really?" she said skeptically. "You've swallowed a whole bottle of calming draught before?"

He opened his eyes. "Yessss," he said, almost in challenge. "Been doing it all week." She could see he was making an effort to sit up properly and speak clearly. "Wanted to make sure I could talk to you," he said, "just talk."

Hermione felt the guilt again. He was putting himself through torture for her. "Draco, you idiot," she said, sitting in the chair beside him. "I'm sorry for putting you through this." She rubbed his arm and watched as he relaxed.

"So, tell me you've figured it out," he said. His eyes were closed again and his jaw tense.

"I wish I could," she said, "But the only thing I can find is the Mind Wipe potion. And I'm sure you'll agree, that's not really an option."

He exhaled sharply.

Both were quiet for a few minutes until Draco whispered, "What are we going to do?"

His voice was defeated and Hermione could see he was exhausted. "Well," she said, ignoring the voice in her head telling her to shut up. "You can't keep doing this to yourself, can you?"

He shrugged.

"I think I could…er, help you out for the time being. At least until we figure something else out." She stood from her chair and drew her wand.

"When you say 'help me out' do you mean–"

Hermione transfigured the couch into a small bed. "Yes," she said. "Maybe if we plan to relapse together, we can control ourselves when we are apart."


"I'm there, are you ready?" he said.

"No, not yet. Don't stop."

His hands found the remaining buttons on her blouse, opened them and pulled the shirt from her body. His lips were on her neck, the shell of her ear, her lips. His hips pressed rigidly against hers. "How much longer?"

"I don't know," she said breathily, "Lets try lying down."

Draco nodded and began moving her backwards toward the bed. She felt the edge hit the back of her thighs before she was lifted onto the center and pressed into the mattress. Everywhere she moved, breathed, was full of him. His hand found its way under her skirt to that spot between her legs. "What about now?" he asked.