The last lesson after lunch on a Friday afternoon for fifth years is Potions.
Potions... a lesson taught since before Dad and Mum came to Hogwarts in the dank dungeons. In fact, Voldemort probably had his Potions lessons down here. The pungent aromas and dark atmosphere would probably have suited him, actually.
Speaking of dark atmospheres, the ever-darkly-atmospheric Scorpius Malfoy sets his books on our table and I catch Albus (my cousin, who was Sorted into Slytherin, befriended Malfoy and forever lost my trust… er, joking) winking at him from a few benches behind. Malfoy reddens as he looks up.
My dear reader, we may have potential blackmail material here. The albino with the congenital pigment disorder has indeed blushed. I tuck my scarlet curls behind my ear and smirk.
The professor coughs in the front of the classroom, drawing my attention to the cauldron in front of her. It is large and the lid is firmly closed.
"Quiet, please."
The class is immediately silent. Professor Lewis, the small witch who has taught Potions since my first year, has that effect on her pupils.
"In this cauldron is a potion which I hope to study for the next few weeks," she begins. I smile, knowing instantly which potion she is on about. "Technically, you should've studied it in your sixth year but the syllabus has changed slightly. Since it is a NEWT potion, I've decided we'll be studying it now."
Mum has the syllabus. I read ahead in the summer.
I was bored.
"So," Professor Lewis continues. "If I tell you that this cauldron contains perhaps the most potent potion of its kind and that… yes, Miss Weasley?"
"Amortentia," I grin.
She gives me an imperceptible smile. "Five points to Gryffindor. Mr Malfoy, can you tell me what kind of aroma this potion omits?"
Malfoy stirs. "It varies according to what the person smelling it finds attractive," he states. I am frozen. It's a textbook answer, and I wonder whether he's read ahead too.
He might have snuck down here last night… yes, it's plausible. Maybe the lid was on sideways – I've heard the smell is intoxicating for some. Malfoy – a lightweight – must have been unable to resist it from the dungeon Slytherin dormitories. Merlin knows he can't resist the smell of Firewhiskey.
"Well done, Mr Malfoy," Professor Lewis smiles. "Five points to Slytherin."
She then reaches forwards and wrenches the lid off the cauldron. I smell nothing for a few seconds, but then the aroma hits me and I nearly pass out.
It's Malfoy's cologne, and it's just as overpowering as it was this morning in the bathroom we share as Heads. I shudder.
Malfoy seems to be paralysed next to me. He's gripping his seat and his knuckles are whitening and I feel I should comment to break the silence; his Head badge is wonky, but I should probably be nice for once, considering his situation, so I reserve judgement.
"What do you smell?" I'm honestly curious.
He scrunches his nose and instantly relaxes while inhaling. "Perfume… flowery, I think. And parchment." He blushes then, and it's much more obvious. I wonder at his sudden displays of embarrassment and humility. They aren't emotions I expect to see on his face whilst talking to me after his years of disgust and contempt in my direction.
My, my. There may be more to this potential blackmail situation than meets the eye. I shall have to pay more attention the the ever-churning Hogwarts rumour mill.
He opens his mouth as if he's set to speak again, but closes it. "You look like a fish," I comment. Okay, it's harsh, but I dislike him intensely so it's justified. I'm still rather confused as to the smell that's attacking my nostrils… there is a dusty undertone to the musk, like old books.
He immediately glues his mouth shut and glares ahead.
"So," Professor Lewis grins widely. "Who wants to share?"
No hands go up to offer and everyone blushes, so naturally she picks on me. "Miss Weasley?" I make a mental note to get my revenge after my exams are over. I'm not risking my O grade.
I struggle to contain the classic Weasley blush myself but I'm certain the tips of my ears are red. "Old books," I answer haltingly.
"And…?" I briefly consider the possibility that she is a Legilimens so I do my best to block my mind. "Cologne." I lick my lips, which have suddenly gone dry.
"I see," Professor Lewis says, and turns to Malfoy.
"Flowers and parchment," he answers her unspoken question.
"Really…? How vague, Mr Malfoy." Professor Lewis comments knowingly. "Which flower?"
Malfoy is dumbstruck and his face turns a tomato red. Albus, behind him, snorts his laughter. Professor Lewis turns to him.
"What about you then, Mr Potter?"
Albus sits up straight. "I just smell Alice's perfume, Professor… and some minty smell. Toothpaste, I think."
Alice Longbottom, my best friend, has been the object of Albus' affections for the entirety of our Hogwarts years. One day soon, she'll crack and succumb to his advances… at least, that's what he says. He's just lucky that Alice hasn't taken NEWT Potions, or he'd be walking from class to the Hospital Wing with a black eye. Her punches really are something for such a petite person.
Professor Lewis's reply is muffled by the bell, and I realise that we must have spent much more time analysing the fumes than I had initially realised. I get up and walk out, but not before I hear Albus muttering into Malfoy's ear, "Roses, was it?"
I find Alice sitting in the library, her light, auburn hair pulled into a hasty bun and her eyes scanning a Herbology textbook frantically.
"Dad's springing a surprise test on us tomorrow," is her only explanation as her hand reaches out to pull me down beside her. "I haven't eaten lunch, could you grab me something from the kitchens?" Throughout her hurried account, her eyes never leave the page they're frantically scanning.
I laugh. "Alice, you don't need to study for Herbology. You know any of your Dad's surprise tests will be practical, not written bloody essays!" I pull her up and she offers no resistance. "Let's go to the kitchens anyway," I insist. "It's a Friday, and I need ice cream."
As we round the corner towards the portrait of the ticklish pear, I notice the portrait is leaning slightly, opened on its hidden hinges.
I frown and drag Alice towards it. She scrunches her nose before swinging the door open and marching in.
I hear Albus' loud chewing before seeing him. He's tearing at a drumstick with his teeth and the sauce is running down his chin. He wipes it away and sits up straight when he sees Alice.
"Hello, Alice," he grins, the meat sticking in between teeth and looking quite frankly disgusting.
"Potter," she nods distastefully.
"Albus, why did you leave the pear's portrait open?" I frown at him, displeased.
"Blame Scorp," he mumbled through his drumstick, which he now began to devour again.
I tut disapprovingly, and move towards the fridges. If there is one thing I have learned from all the summers Malfoy has spent at the Weasleys', it is that he has an unhealthy appetite for ice cream. It's a source of many arguments between us, because we both prefer chocolate and so we eat each other's supply… but I digress.
House-elves scurry around me in scarves and hats and SPEW badges and I smile briefly at their innocence, but then I see Malfoy at the fridges and I grin even wider. He has a moustache of chocolate sauce on his upper lip and a look of bliss on his face. It is at times like these that I wish Grandpa Weasley's old modified cameras worked at Hogwarts.
"May I join you?" I quip cheekily and he looks up, alarmed, until he sees me. I expect him to be condescending, but he wrestles with himself before smiling tightly and picking up a spoon. He proffers his tub of chocolate before him and we attack the tub with relish.
We are halfway through another tub before either of us talk.
"I should've smelled this in my Amortentia," he mumbles.
"Oh yeah," I agree, savouring the taste. "I love house-elf ice cream."
"Ben and Jerry's Cookie Dough, though…" His eyes roll backwards in ecstasy and I laugh.
I'm slightly amazed, however, that a Malfoy would buy Muggle produce.
I drop my spoon, and he looks into my eyes and suddenly we are all too close and all I can taste is chocolate on his lips and mine.
"Scorp, what's happening?!"
It's Albus' voice. I couldn't care less. I've discovered a craving for his lips, and not just because they taste like chocolate.
"Rose!"
But it's Alice's voice that drags me away from him. I turn, finding myself draped across him in a way that is entirely inappropriate for company. It is I, and not him, who jerks away first.
I can't understand why I'm not disgusted by him… and why he isn't disgusted by me.
Albus seems torn between being the protective cousin and congratulating Scorpius… er, Malfoy. Alice just seems shocked.
"Alice, leave them to it…" Albus now looks like he's regretting ever finding us. I mean… jeez, it's not like it was planned.
I look back at Scorp- Malfoy, who's looking at my hand, which is still entwined in his. I hitch a sigh. Alice grins, grabs Albus, and spins him out, behind the pear to God only knows where.
Suddenly the silence between us is thick and I am tempted to cut it with my spoon... but it's on the floor. And my hand is otherwise occupied.
"What just happened?" he chokes.
"I smelled you in my Amortentia," I admit at the same time.
His eyes widen and I slap my hand over my mouth.
"I smelled you too." He assesses my reaction. I just blush.
"Your perfume stinks out the bathroom in the morning when I stay with Al in the summer," he carries on, "That's how I knew what it was…"
"Your bloody cologne stinks! I have a shower and it's like I'm doused in the stuff…"
"And you smell like parchment too." He's gotten closer, and his musky smell is so intense that I fall onto him, my hands suddenly tangling in his blonde hair and his tangling in mine. Admittedly, it was probably tangled anyway, but again I digress. I'm standing, he's standing, I'm on my tiptoes, and my brain goes haywire. I'm not sure when he got so tall, so strong, so… urgh, good-looking… and I'm not sure why I'm not pulling away either.
But I'm rather lost in him and my mind is blank, so why does it all matter?