A/N: Just a quick little notie-note before the story- please review!! Thanks!
Luv,
Ella
"…Polyjuice Potion, sir." The voice jarred Draco Malfoy out of his daydream. Of course, it's Granger showing off again, he thought. Every year she impressed the teachers with her "stunning knowledgibility of every subject!" quoting a professor that Draco overheard on one of his night-time jaunts around the castle. Did you know that the professors like to spend the time after hours wandering the halls? Well, know you do.
"Excellent, excellent! Now this one here… yes my dear?" said the extremely overweight professor. What was his name again? Bugflorn? No. Smugnorn? No, that couldn't be it. Ah, yes. Slughorn. Should've been Walrushorn, Draco thought with disgust. He giggled at his own wit. The other Slytherins sitting at his table looked around and stared at him, causing Draco to hastily turn his girlish giggle into a cough.
Now the Granger girl was talking again. "It's Amortentia!"
"It is indeed. It seems foolish to ask, but I assume you know what it does?" Slughorn asked, looking immensely impressed. Of course, thought Draco, now Granger has Slughorn practically in love with her. Fortunately, I can see right through her whole "genius" act.
"It's the most powerful love potion in the world!" the girl shrilled.
"Quite right! You recognized it, I suppose, by its distinctive mother-of-pearl sheen?"
"And the steam rising in characteristic spirals," she said, continuing enthusiastically like she was describing something more interesting than this stupid potion, "and its supposed to smell differently to each of us according to what attracts us, and I can smell freshly mown grass and new parchment and-" she broke off, blushing. Wonder what she was going to say? Probably something having to do with Potter, Draco thought disgustedly. The only people who can't tell that she loooooves Potty is Potty, Weasel, and Weasel's younger sister. They're all crazy. Oh, how he hated Potty and Granger. Draco was so caught up in his own thoughts that he almost missed what happened next.
"May I ask your name, my dear?" Sluggyhorn, or whatever it was, asked.
"Hermione Granger, sir."
"Granger? Granger? Can you possibly be related to Hector Dagworth-Granger, who founded the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers?"
"No, I don't think so, sir. I'm a Muggle-born, you see."
Draco leaned over to his neighbor and whispered in his ear. "I doubt that mud-blood's related to anything but it's own kind." They both snickered, but Slughorn did not notice.
"Oho! 'One of my best friends is a Muggle-born, and she's the best in our year!' I'm assuming this is the very friend of whom you spoke, Harry?"
"Yes, sir," said the Potty.
"Well, well, take twenty well-earned points for Gryffindor, Miss Granger," said Slughorn happily. Draco couldn't keep the look off of his face. He realized that he probably looked like he was just force-fed Slughorn. If I was force-fed Slughorn I would look… really fat! He giggled again, this time taking care to keep it silent. Just then a whiff of the Amortentia reached Draco's nose, causing him to drown out all of the conversation. It somehow reminded him simultaneously of his cook's pumpkin pie that was always served around Christmas during his childhood, a kind of flower that grew outside of his house, and a strange, overly sweet fruity smell that he couldn't quite place, among others. What could that fruity smell possibly be? Just then the bell rang, bringing Draco out of his thoughts one again.
That night Draco couldn't sleep. He couldn't figure out what that fruity scent could have been. He tried to make a mental list of all the seventh year girls in Slytherin. But then he realized that he could hardly remember their names. That's odd. The only one I can remember is Parkinson, and she wears all kinds of really putrid perfume, but none of it smells like that did. The scent in the Amortentia was actually very pleasant. The rest of the Slytherin girls are pretty unattractive. There's no way I would fall in love with any of them. Now that he was thinking about it, the rest of the Slytherins were all unattractive, too. Hideous, even. Draco realized that he was the only Slytherin that was even remotely good-looking. Compared to the rest of these goons, I'm like Grade A Prime Choice Beef! No wonder everybody else in the school hated Slytherins. And no wonder the other Slytherins hated Malfoy. Except Parkinson. They should have named her Pigsy instead of Pansy. Just thinking about the girl who was constantly trying to woo Draco made him shudder. And dry-heave. Actually, the rest of Slytherin house did seem to be angry at him for some reason lately. Even Crabbe and Goyle weren't speaking to him. Oh, wait. They never speak. Draco realized that he had never actually heard either of their voices. I bet they sound like buffoons, cuz that's what they are! Wait a second. Buffoons aren't animals. What is it? Oh yeah. Baboons. With these not-very-intelligent thoughts in mind, Draco drifted off into sleep, the Amortentia long since forgotten.