Ron turned so that he was spooning her, his hand slipping around to rest against her stomach. Hermione snuggled back into his warmth, smiling as their legs entwined beneath the blankets. "Rose owled last night while you were at work."
"Did she?"
"She learned about Amortentia," Hermione said. "Said that she smells oranges and books."
"That's our girl."
"You've never told me what it smells like to you."
"Chicken."
"Ron!"
"Ok. Fine. Amortentia smells like lavender."
"Oh," Hermione uttered, crestfallen.
"Not the person Hermione," he chastised her. "The flower... the scent of your shampoo." He sighed. "Amortentia smells like you."
