The next day was filled with classes, mostly reviewing things that Draco had learned himself during the secluded summer he had after the war. As he was sure he would do well on his N.E.W.Ts, Draco spent all his classes except Potions reading advanced books on whatever subject he felt like studying at the time, very occasionally looking up to cast a spell. Potions was different, not because it was something he had to catch up in, but because the new Potions master had partnered him with the one and only Harry James Potter, who happened to need a lot of help in this particular subject.
"I thought we might start off with something easy," said the Potions master, of whom Draco had not bothered to learn the name. "Amortentia."
The very mention of this potion made Draco's cheeks turn pink. He had brewed it many a time, some of those times just to smell it. It smelled the same every time he made it, ever since the third year, like Muggles and treacle tarts and the earth, exactly how, as Draco could tell sitting so close, Potter smelled.
"Alright, Malfoy?" Potter asked, seeming to notice the shade of red that Draco's face had turned. Was the Gryffindor staring at him?
"Fine, Potter." Draco answered, looking, embarrassed, down at his shoes.
Potter nodded and looked away.
"So," said Draco. "Amortentia. You can go get the ingredients. I'll set up the cauldron."
Potter nodded and stood up, heading over to where the ingredients were laid out on a table.
They began making the potion, Draco letting Potter do most of the work, for he suspected they both knew that Potions was already Draco's best subject. Occasionally Draco interjected a comment, something like telling Potter not to stir the brew too many times, but mostly he just watched the raven-haired boy work.
"I think this is done," said Potter, taking the cauldron off the heat.
"Really?" Said Draco. "Does it smell right?"
"What's it supposed to smell like again?" Asked Potter.
"It's supposed to smell like, um," Draco felt awkward just saying the words, "whatever you're most attracted to." To him it smelled like it did usually, blending with the scent emanating from the boy next to him.
"Huh," said Potter. "Smells different from the last time I made it. It used to smell like the Burrow, but now it's…" Realization struck Potter's eyes and he was very clearly trying not to look at Draco.
"What?" Spat Draco, perplexed.
"Um, now it smells like peppermint and textbooks." He mumbled the last couple of words.
What could that mean? Granger,? Or… no. Draco made himself swallow that shred of hope and turned back to the task at hand.
"Professor," he called, still unaware of the stout woman's name. "We've finished."
"Test it!" The Professor ordered. "If you really did it right it will work!"
Draco was flustered. "Test it? On who?"
The Professor looked over her glasses at Draco. "On your partner. Who else?"
Draco bit into his lip until he tasted blood and turned to Potter. "Alright, then," he said, as calmly as he could. "Which one of us should drink it?"
Potter's face was the same bright shade of red as Draco's. "I, um, would, but I did most of the work, you simply directed me, so I believe it will only work if you drink it."
Draco's eyes widened. Becoming infatuated with Potter? In truth, he already was, but the potion would force him to show it. He could do it, he told himself, for the good grade.
Draco swallowed nervously and brought a cup full of the potion up to his lips, and took a sip.
Immediately, the only thing in the room seemed to be Potter. The force that always drew Draco to the Gryffindor was stronger now, much, much stronger. In a matter of seconds Draco found himself at Potter's feet, grabbing the boy's ankles. What in bloody hell was he doing? It didn't matter, because the little voice in the back of his head was saying one thing, and one thing only. HarryPotterHarryPotterHarryPotterHarryPotterHarryHarryHarryHarryHarryHARRYPOTTER.
"HARRY POTTER!" Draco exclaimed, giving in to the voice. "Kiss me, Harry, kiss me!" He knew he was under the influence of Amortentia, but those were the words he had wanted to say for years. Besides, everyone knew it was the Amortentia. He could say anything to Harry. Maybe this wasn't such a bad thing after all.
Draco stood up and leaned himself into Potter, who promptly pushed him away. Draco was making a fool of himself but it DIDN'T FUCKING MATTER BECAUSE POTTER WAS SO CLOSE. HarryHarryHarryHarryHarryHarryHarry.
"I LOVE YOU, HARRY POTTER!" Draco proclaimed loudly, pushing Potter against the nearest wall, and attempting to kiss him again.
This time, Potter couldn't lean away and wait-- was Potter kissing back? This was the best godfucking day of Draco's godfucking life, and it wasn't just the Amortentia talking. Draco kissed him harder, placing his hands on Potter's shoulders. Potter touched the Slytherin's waist lightly, before bringing his hand up to Draco's chest and pushing them apart.
"Amortentia," Potter muttered, sounding more like he was talking to himself than to Draco. "It's all the Amortentia." Potter looked around Draco, and his face and ears turned tomato red. Oh. Right. People were probably looking.
The pull towards Potter lessened; the potion must've been wearing off. Draco half-heartedly moved back towards his desk, but abruptly turned when he remembered that that would mean sitting next to Potter, and made a beeline for Pansy, who smirked at him in the most Slytherin way possible.
"Great job," she whispered as he sat down next to her. "You're lucky. I had to deal with Longbottom, of all people, trying to snog me." Pansy let out a shrill laugh. "Look on the bright side: at least now you know what it's like to kiss someone other than Blaise!" She laughed again, and Draco punched her in the arm.
"Shut it, Pans!"
