Author's Note: I own nothing.
I'm trying to write more (specifically on Leftovers), but it's been hard. I'm rusty. So I'm taking small steps. One-shots that are tied together by the theme of the senses. They do build on each other, but each one can stand alone, just in case I abandon this.
Draco: Smell
Draco Malfoy tried not to roll his eyes as the sixth year student clamored for his help.
After all, he had volunteered to be a teaching assistant for Advanced Potions when he returned to Hogwarts to complete his seventh year. At the time he had done it so as not to be shown up by his fellow Head and perpetual nuisance, Hermione Granger, who had also offered her services. Now though, as he went over to help the incompetent and infatuated Sharon Vernus for the thousandth time this year, he began to question the wisdom of that decision.
The younger witch inched closer to him, but he studiously ignored her.
Spirals of steam floated above the cauldron, caressing Draco's face and invading his nostrils as he glared down at the iridescent brew.
He blinked.
Leaning down closer, he inhaled and exhaled deeply, then blinked again.
He glanced quickly abound the room and unable to find what he was looking for, his stomach lurched.
A familiar scent hovered in the air, standing out starkly against the other aromas brewing in the classroom. All the more so, for he knew of no potion with an ingredient that smelled like this.
If the scent had a name, he hadn't been able to discover it. Some blend of vanilla and apricots perhaps?
Though he couldn't name the fragrance, he certainly knew it. Having sat behind the tangle of curls that sprung every which way from Granger's scalp, and having breathed in and out the scent of those curls in every class every day for the last year, he couldn't seem to escape it.
Not that it really mattered, because now Draco had something even greater to worry about. Namely, why the hell was he smelling Hermione Granger's shampoo in an Amortentia potion.