Author's Notes:
1) Will [obviously] diverge from canon [in big ways or small ones] as the year goes on. All depends what the story calls for during the writing process 😉.
2) Chapter lengths will vary (some will be close to 5k, some will be under 2k). Updates will be sporadic.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or any affiliated characters, and make no profit, in any form, from this work.
Chapter One
She'd lied! Swallowing hard, Hermione pressed her back against the wall of the girls' bathroom. Potions class . . . Amortentia . . . and she'd lied about what she smelled. Oh, sure, she'd made it sound like she was in a daze and hadn't realized what she was saying, who she could be describing, but that was only to cover her own shock.
Because the things she'd smelled hadn't reminded her of Ronald Weasley, the boy she thought she'd been pining for the last two years. They'd reminded her of Draco Malfoy.
"Okay, Hermione, get yourself together," she reprimanded in a harsh whisper.
Maybe there was some other explanation for this! The witch nodded, making her way over to the sinks and turning on one of the faucets. While she'd taken her first sniff of the potion's aroma, she'd flicked her gaze up, catching Draco's grey eyes for a split-second before darting her attention rather aimlessly about the room while she'd spoken.
She found herself so caught off-guard that the first answers to come to mind made her think of him rather than someone else—anyone else, really—that she'd forced out words connected with things that made her think of Ron, instead. Could the potion not have been as effective as people believed? Yes! Maybe?
Groaning, she leaned down, splashing some of the water on her face. If . . . if that was the case, she reasoned, perhaps it was because she'd caught Draco watching her in that moment that things about him had come to mind, instead.
Switching off the faucet, she braced her palms against the sides of the sink. That was good! That could be totally possible, couldn't it? If any measuring of the potion ingredients was off even a smidgen, that could effect the potency, couldn't it?
Though, as she watched the droplets falling from her chin to splash into the draining swirl of water in the basin, she could feel in her gut that this probably wasn't the case. But it wasn't possible. She didn't have feelings for that . . . that selfish, egotistical, spoiled, bullying prat! She couldn't!
Closing her eyes, she straightened up and inhaled deep through her nostrils, trying to calm herself and think about this clearly. There was obviously something wrong with her just now, but before she did anything serious about the matter—like getting Madame Pomfrey to check her head, or having herself carted off to that dreadful ward in St. Mungo's—she should think this through, try to determine what the bloody hell could've been going through her mind back there!
Yes, yes, she'd found herself . . . concerned, in spite of her own better judgment, when Draco had looked so terrible and sickly last year. Yes, she did listen a little more closely to whispered gossip in the corridors between classes if his name came up. Yes, she did feel a little spark of mischievous joy whenever she bested him on test scores and he met her gaze over the tops of their exam scrolls, his grey eyes positively on fire—which was every test. She knew precisely how intelligent he was, making her victory all the sweeter. If she wasn't there, he would be top student in their year.
Yes, she did feel the sting of it especially hard whenever he looked at her with disgust in his expression.
Okay, that last thought was unexpected. But still, that could all be explained away, couldn't it? Hermione shook her head at herself as she snatched up a paper towel and blotted the water from her face. She was sure it could! He'd made himself her rival from the first time she'd beaten him on an exam, he'd pitted himself against her best friend every chance he got, and he never failed to remind her that in their world, she was considered less-than.
But wait! Harry had been insisting for hours just yesterday that Draco was probably a Death Eater, now, so of course he was on her mind this morning! Perhaps it was only natural she took notice of things about him because she was . . . rightfully wary of him!
Inhaling sharply, she nodded at her reflection. Yes! That sounded good. Plausible! "Okay, Hermione. Now that you've got that sorted, off to class with you," she murmured as she tossed the wadded paper towel into the rubbish bin.
She turned on her heel to face the door, nearly jumping out of her skin to find Pansy Parkinson standing there. Bracing herself for some scathing comment, Hermione only searched the other witch's face with her gaze as she waited.
"About potions class," Pansy began, sounding uncharacteristically uncertain of herself. "I was wondering . . . ."
Hermione's brows drew upward, her heart hammering in her chest. Had that quick, split-second look she'd shared with Draco been longer? Been more obvious? Did Pansy think there was something there? Oh, good God, woman! There was nothing to see. Get a hold of yourself!
"Wondering what, Pansy?"
The dark-haired witch's features pinched in irritation at the prompting. She didn't like being reminded that she was less-than-confident just now. "Amortentia? Does it actually work?"
There was a momentary flaring of confusion that tempered Hermione's anxiety as she realized Pansy's presence before her actually had nothing to do with her. It was totally about Pansy, herself. Shocking, that.
"Only so far as Professor Slughorn mentioned," Hermione said with a shrug. "It doesn't create 'love', really, more of an infatuation. The person who administers a particular dose will be the one the partaker fancies while the potion is in effect."
Pansy rolled her eyes and drew closer, clearly not pleased she'd had to come to Hermione bloody Granger for anything. But then, Hermione bloody Granger knew everything, didn't she? So clearly, she'd know about this. And—bonus—Hermione bloody Granger was not friends with any of her friends, so this was not likely to get back to the person it was about.
"I mean, if you give it to someone, would they know? Or would they just be overcome with the sudden infatuation and not question it?"
Hermione's brows drew upward. "Um, well, I would think that—"
"If you gave it to someone who previously had feelings for you, would they just think those feelings have returned, only stronger?"
"Is this about Malfoy?" The words had fallen from Hermione's lips faster than she could think to stop them.
An unpleasant scowl marred Pansy's features. "Not that it's any of your concern, but yes." She shifted her weight as she dropped her gaze to the floor. "No one knows it, yet, but he broke up with me over the summer."
Hermione bit her lip, holding in a surprised noise. Bloody hell, she didn't care about that. She didn't!
"Yesterday on the train, he was acting like we were close, again, but now we're back to being nothing. And it hurts and I just want things back the way they were."
Oh, now she couldn't help but feel sympathy for the other girl. "I'm sorry."
Pansy snapped her gaze up to lock on Hermione's, a sneer twisting her face. "Oh, what would you know about relationships, anyway?"
Her brows shooting up, Hermione reminded her, "I'm sorry, who's the one in this room who dated an internationally famous athlete?"
"Right, forgot about you and Krum for a moment there." Pansy arched a brow, curious in spite of herself. "Say, did you and he ever, well, you know . . . ?"
"As if you'd be on the list of people I'd tell?"
Pansy almost laughed at that. "Fair enough. But seriously, about the potion?"
Exhaling slow, Hermione gave the issue a moment's consideration. "So, what's your plan? Slip him the potion, let him think he's in love with you, hope you rekindle your old relationship and by the time it wears off, he'll actually be in love with you, so it'll all be fine?"
Her hazel eyes rolling, Pansy shrugged. "Well, yeah. Something like that."
Hermione felt her brows pull together. She desperately hoped she hadn't just accidentally supplied Pansy with a plan of action she'd not actually come up with yet.
"You think it's a bad idea, don't you?"
Shoulders slumping, the Muggleborn girl let out a sigh. "I'm not judging—"
"Damn right, you're not judging!"
Now it was Hermione's turn to roll her eyes. For a split-second there, she'd expected Pansy Parkinson not to be a complete wretch—what had she been thinking? "What I meant was it seems like an idea anyone might have when they're hurting over someone. And . . . yeah, I think it is a bad idea. I mean, even ignoring if it backfires, or you don't brew it right and it makes him ill, or the plan not working out how you hope and he ends up hating you when the potion wears off. Pansy, if someone's going to love you, don't you want it to be, you know, real?"
Pansy stared hard at the other young woman for several quiet seconds. "Merlin's arse, I hate that I'm about to say this, but you're right." She uttered a scoffing sound and buried her face in her hands before going on. "I can't believe I was even thinking that."
It was on the tip of Hermione's tongue to offer a sympathetic statement—to assure Pansy that everyone made stupid decisions where their hearts were concerned—but she knew it would be just as likely that Pansy Parkinson would viciously throw the effort back in her face, insulted that a Mudblood would assume they could be similar in any measure, let alone enough to understand her feelings on anything. This conversation had possibly been the least volatile interaction they'd ever had, and for a reason she couldn't quite name, Hermione was reluctant to ruin that if she could help it.
Dropping her hands back to her sides, Pansy cleared her throat. "Um, well, we're going to be late for our next classes if we're in here much longer. We should go, now."
Hermione only nodded, offering a tight-lipped expression as she started toward the door behind Pansy.
"Oh," the Slytherin witch said, halting mid-stride, her hand on the knob. "Could we keep this little chat between us?"
Snickering, Hermione nodded once more. "As if anyone would believe you and I just had a civil conversation?"
"Fair point. See you, Granger." With that, Pansy disappeared out the door.
Hermione had to give herself a shake before she followed. She was absolutely not thinking anything, whatsoever, over the fact that Draco and Pansy were no longer together. She wasn't, she wasn't!
"Bollocks," she said in a hissing whisper as she started for the door again. Pansy was probably far enough away by now that no one would possibly think they'd had an actual conversation.
Finally having slipped away from Crabbe, Goyle, and Blaise, Draco breathed a sigh of relief. He normally liked the prattling conversations that went on among his friends when his mind was fiddling with something, it allowed him the peace to think shit over without any of them noticing he wasn't quite paying attention.
It was only a few minutes, really, but that would be enough. He simply needed the silence. Needed a moment to get his head on straight. Leaning his cheek against the stone sill of the castle window, he looked out at the morning sky. Madness, just now. Why on earth had he snapped his gaze up like that when Professor Slughorn had called Granger's name? It was hardly as though her attendance had been a surprise—they'd been in potions class together the last five bloody years.
But then she'd glanced up at just that moment and caught him looking at her. God, he was an idiot. Whenever it was the other way 'round, whenever he caught her looking at him, he could swear it was with something like pity in her eyes. And how fucking dare she? Jumped up Mudblood.
Wait. When was the last time he'd actually used that word? He scowled. It nearly felt as though he'd had to make the deliberate decision to even think it just now. He hadn't said it, what? Since fourth year, maybe? Huh, that was an interesting notion. Draco hadn't even realized the absence of the word from his active vocabulary until just now.
What had changed? When? And why the bloody hell hadn't he noticed it sooner? Damn Granger, this was her fault somehow, he was sure. As though he didn't have enough troubles?
And he certainly wasn't hearing her voice in his head, over and over, as she'd murmured the things Amortentia smelled like to her in that low, breathy tone. Whatever she said, whatever scents she thought it held, it didn't matter to him one iota.
God, why did he keep wondering what the hell that nonsense about peppermint toothpaste had been about? Had to be about Potter, they were close like that, yeah? Or Weasle-bee. Her blood-status notwithstanding, she was too good for that one, but the ginger-haired wizard did get awfully touchy where Granger was concerned.
Biting back a sound of anger at himself for even sparing the time think over this idiocy—hadn't he just told himself he had other things to worry about?—he smacked his hand against his forehead.
"Get to class, you bloody moron," he said under his breath in an irritated whisper.
Forcing himself to turn away from the window, he started down the corridor. Arithmancy class . . . . Well, he didn't have to worry about his friends being there to wonder where he'd disappeared to after potions class. Didn't have to worry about Pansy. After letting her comfort him yesterday on the train, things were weird between them now. Uncomfortable. He'd rather not be around her if he could help it, not until this weirdness had passed, anyway.
But Granger would be there. Well, shit. He nearly stopped in his tracks at the thought. Oh, what was wrong with him? He wasn't even sure what was bothering him about her at the moment, she'd probably be completely oblivious to the fact that she was under his skin for reasons he couldn't begin to fathom.
The girls' bathroom door swung open just then and he walked right into the person who stepped out.
He was so startled to find the wide chestnut eyes of the aforementioned Muggleborn witch blinking up at him in shock that before he even realized he'd spoken, he mumbled the words, "Oh, didn't see you there. Sorry, Granger."
Hermione blinked rapidly a few times, uncertain she heard him correctly. "Did . . . ? Malfoy? Did you just apologize to me?"
Draco's brows shot up in surprise. Dammit, what was wrong with him? Letting on that he actually had manners like that!
He shook his head. "I, um—"
"Are you feeling all right?" She was actually grateful for the distraction of how off he seemed. Meant she didn't have to ponder over the coincidence of bumping into him so very literally mere seconds after thinking things she shouldn't be about him.
Yes! Good, let her think he was coming down with something! "You know I . . . I really don't feel very well."
The witch nodded. "You do look sort of, well, paler than usual. Maybe you should go to the hospital? Lie down for a little bit, or something?"
He frowned thoughtfully. "Might be a good idea."
"Okay, well, um, I'll tell the professor that's where you are, then."
Draco gave a nod of his own at her consideration. "Thank you." Her face fell so fast at his words, he nearly laughed.
"Oh, Lord. First saying sorry to me and now thanking me?" She made a shooing gesture. "You'd better get along to Madame Pomfrey! You're starting to worry me."
One final time he nodded, his grey eyes moving over her in a quick once-over—so swift, Hermione thought if she blinked, she'd have missed it—before he turned and started walking.
She had no idea what he meant—or how she felt—when she thought she heard him say, "Wouldn't want that, now, would we?" as he made his way along the corridor.
Okay, okay, that was weird, she admitted to herself as she forced her legs into motion, rushing off to arithmancy class. The last thing she wanted was to give anymore thought to Draco Malfoy than she already had, yet there she went, playing the entire interaction over and over in her head as she hurried through the castle.