Ambroisal
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Whoever it was who was put in charge of arranging class schedules for the sixth year Gryffindors must have it out for her.
A quick glance at her wrist watch has Rukia cursing at the layout of Hogwarts. There is neither rhyme nor reason to the layout and design of the magical building. Inaccessibility and moving staircases aside, the classrooms are simply too far apart from each other! She is never going to make it on time, she thinks to herself, huffing at the thought.
Potions is by far her least favourite subject and she faithfully dreads the last two hour lessons of the week, groaning at the thought of spending a perfectly beautiful Friday evening cooped up underground in the dungeons with the Potions Professor and sixth year Slytherins. Inter-house rivalry has always been fierce between the Gryffindors and Slytherins. Potions class- the one class that the two houses have shared without fail since day one at Hogwarts is hellish and near insufferable. The constant one-upping between the two houses is exhausting, even without the humidity to contend with.
Hitching the strap of her book bag higher up her shoulders, she hurries down the stairs, taking two steps at a time, scrambling to get into the dungeons before Professor Urahara marks her as tardy. The school year is almost ending and every little bit counts. Gryffindors and Slytherins are once again going neck and neck, toe to toe with each other in the competition for the House Cup. It is very much a matter of house pride and personal gratification. Rukia Kuchiki isn't about to let those vipers take the lead just because she was late for class.
She groans, ducking her head when she notices a familiar spectral form swooping down from overhead, his sing-song voice annoyingly high-pitched. She swears under her breath. Everything is conspiring against her today.
"STUDENT PLAYING TRUANT! STUDENT PLAYING TRUANT! ALERT! ALERT! STUDENT RUNNING IN THE HALLWAYS! STUDENT RUN— oh it's you- Little Miss Perfect Kuchiki! Prefect, Quidditch Captain, future Head Girl— is there anything that she can't do?" Peeves somersaults through the air swooning dramatically, cackling as he mocks, "Well not so perfect now, huh? Does brother dearest- our esteemed Minister for Magic know about this?"
"Mind your business, Peeves!" Rukia hisses, pressing her hands to her ears and shooting the poltergeist a glare over her shoulder, resisting the urge to give him a rude gesture. She purses her lips tight instead, urging herself to go faster. Peeves is a menace. Her being riled up by the poltergeist will only provoke him further, inciting him to up the ante on his mischief.
Peeves howls with gleeful laughter above her. "That's it! You better start running! Run like the wind, Little Kuchiki! Better scurry before the professor serves you detention!"
The red-and-gold tie around her neck feels choking and Rukia tugs at it absentmindedly as she scowls, picking up her pace as she rounds the corner. Peeves is unfortunately right. She cannot afford to lose any more time.
Her calves are burning by the time she pushes the double doors open, tie askew and cheeks pink from running. The Charms classroom is on the third floor. It is no small feat for her to have made the journey in such a short time and she has her vigorous Quidditch training to thank for that.
With a forceful gulp, Rukia trudges into class guiltily, trying her best to hold her head high and ignore the pointed looks and whispers, trying not to wince at how loud her footsteps seem to echo in the room.
Class has already started. Students from both Gryffindors and Slytherins have all paired up, mostly with their own housemates but she did spy a few Gryffindor-Slytherin pairs closer to the left side of the room, with their textbooks open and quills out, an empty copper cauldron between them. Snickering laughter from the Slytherin crowd makes her hackles rise but Rukia steadies herself, willing herself to remain calm and not react to them even as her cheeks flush red and hot, mortified to have so many pairs of eyes staring at her. The looks she receives from her own housemates are a mix of sympathetic head-shakes and heated glares, mostly annoyed at the thought of her tardiness costing them precious house points, letting Slytherins take the lead in the competition.
At the sound of her approach, Professor Urahara half-turns, his eyes looking away from the classroom blackboard to flash her a wry grin, tipping his signature green-white striped bucket hat. As the Head of Slytherin House and the tenured Potions Master of Hogwarts, he is, as most Hogwarts students would grudgingly attest to, fair when it comes to meting out punishments and is unlikely to give students from his own house preferential treatment without merit or cause.
"How nice of you to join us, Kuchiki!"
His grey eyes glint with more amusement than cruelty but Rukia feels nervous all the same. An eccentric blonde in his thirties with a knack of dressing himself in strange clothes (and equally strange footwear- his wooden sandals are strange and outlandish even by Hogwarts standards) and almost never seen without his striped hat or his cane, he is renowned in the international magical community for being the youngest and most recent addition to the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers but here in Hogwarts, he is just as notorious for assigning less-than-orthodox punishments during detentions.
Rumour has it he once made students serve their detention in the Hogwarts Kitchens, scrubbing all the pots, pans and dishes by hand, going so far as to forbid the house elves from helping. Already unsettled at being an object of scrutiny by her classmates, Rukia fervidly hopes that he won't make too much of a fuss over her tardiness.
Her fingers twitch, anxiously brushing at the stray bang between her eyes and the imaginary dust on her skirt in a futile attempt to make herself seem presentable.
"I-I'm sorry I'm late—" Rukia dips her head low as she apologizes— "It's my fault. I got carried away. I should have looked at the time. Professor Shihouin was demonstrating how wand movements also follow the basis of—"
Urahara holds out a hand, stopping her rambling.
"My lovely wife has already informed me of the extra-credit Charms and Arithmancy assignment that you have been working on under her tutelage. Wenlockian Theorems are fascinating stuff, beautiful in theory but notoriously hard to put into application. This project, from what I have been told, requires advanced Charms work and a keen understanding of the fundamental principles of Arithmancy, both of which are clearly beyond the understanding of this simple potion-maker. Easily NEWT-level stuff. Breathe, Kuchiki!" says Urahara with a teasing smirk, "You should be proud of yourself."
Rukia can feel her ears burning from the praise, her cheeks flushing a deeper red and she tugs at the sleeves of her robes. "T-Thank you, Professor."
"I'll let this slide just this once. You can find an empty seat and get started with your partner."
Rukia heaves a sigh of relief at that, mumbling her thanks before her attention wanders, violet eyes roving across the room in search of a worktable only half-filled. She frowns when she sees that everyone else is already working in pairs.
Her fellow Gryffindors, Tatsuki and Orihime offer her a sympathetic glance from their table near the front, their supplies and equipment neatly laid out on the table. The two are best friends, practically joined at the hip, so it comes as no surprise to see them working as partners for today. Even Hanatarou, who she usually partners with for Potions is working at the further end of the classroom with Renji, the Slytherin Beater.
"Professor," says Rukia, "I think I might be the odd one out. I don't see—"
"Quick show of hands, who here is still partner-less," says Urahara with his back turned, his attention preoccupied by the text he is scribbling onto the board.
A few curious glances are shared between the students. Rukia sees some looks of amusement and pity directed at her. Her seated classmates lean over each other, urgently whispering amongst themselves. She hears some nervous shuffling, the rustling of clothes as the students nudge at each other, eyebrows wiggling. Yet no one raises a hand or tries to catch her eye.
Rukia folds her arms defensively, feeling self-conscious. Her eyes dart to Urahara, who continues writing unperturbed.
"Last chance," Urahara warns, "unless this person wants to spend the next Hogsmeade weekend polishing badges in the Trophy Room, I suggest that they speak up now and stop wasting our time."
Silence.
"Hmm… very well, maybe this student also wants to find their house down by twenty poin—"
A hand shoots up almost immediately. Rukia narrows her eyes at the tall Slytherin seated at the very back row of the room. His flame-coloured hair is wild and tousled, amber eyes glaring at the professor in annoyance.
Kurosaki!
Her mood sours just by the sight of him alone. The two share a look of mutual dislike, their scowl mirroring each other. Now, she knows the reason behind the giggly whispers and pointed looks!
Everyone in Hogwarts knows how much they hate each other.
They bring out the worst in each other. It has been that way since the night they arrived in Hogwarts, when he laughed at her drawings while they were waiting in line for the Sorting. Growing up in a family chock-full of overachievers meant getting a head-start in a lot of things, including jinxes. The Flipendo that she cast was less malicious in intent than it was a childish and explosive reaction to teasing. In Rukia's defense, she was only eleven then. She regretted her decision the minute she saw him knocked over by the spell, hissing in pain on the floor. She was ashamed of her actions and immediately apologized, offering to help him up but he scowled and rudely slapped her hand away. That was the start of their antagonistic relationship and their petty competitiveness has only intensified over the years.
Rukia may be skilled in Charms and Arithmancy, but Kurosaki is just as highly praised by the professors for his aptitude in Defense against Dark Arts and Potions. They are both Quidditch Captains for their respective houses. Rukia is agile and for once, her size works in her favour, allowing her to whizz through the air like a hummingbird, diving after the Golden Snitch, running circles around the other team's Seeker unnoticed but Kurosaki's skills as a Keeper are nothing to scoff at. He is skilled and the determination to win burns within him. It isn't unheard of for his team to start practice at the crack of dawn, weeks ahead of the actual game. Tension between the two teams runs high at every Gryffindor-Slytherin match.
The bottom line is this: Ichigo Kurosaki is the bane of her existence.
Her scowl deepens. Seeing him reminds her of the final Quidditch game of the school year that is scheduled to take place next week. It is Gryffindor against Slytherin and once again, Kurosaki is living up to his reputation of being mean and unscrupulous, always stealing the slot for Gryffindor practice time, no matter how early she puts in her requests with Madame Hooch. It isn't fair!
Rukia is 90% sure he is using his familial connection to Urahara to secure the slots. It is such a Slytherin thing to do.
If looks could kill, Urahara would have died a million times over, professor or not under the weight of the venomous glares directed at him. But the man shrugs it off, beaming brightly.
"Ah, Ichigo!" he calls out, unruffled by the slightest, "There you are! Why didn't you say anything just now? Is my favourite godson too shy to partner with a pretty girl like Miss Kuchiki?"
Ichigo gives a loud snort, crossing his arms as he quips, "I'm your only godson. And you can forget it! I'd rather work alone. I'm not working with her!"
Rukia growls, glaring daggers and shooting back every bit as acerbically, "Trust me. The feeling is mutual, Strawberry!"
She would rather die than to hear him moan about how she was riding on the coattails of his potion-making skills. Much to her annoyance, he never lets her forget that between the two of them, he is the only one with an Outstanding for Potions in OWLs.
Turning to Urahara, she says, "Professor, I think it may be better for us to partner with other students for this class. I simply cannot work with someone who—"
"I am afraid that this is not up for discussion," says Urahara coolly, cutting her off mid-sentence. "The two of you have already disrupted class enough as it is. Unless the two of you want to have both of your house points deducted, I suggest that you get on with it so the class can continue. Kuchiki, please take the seat next to Ichigo and Ichigo—" the professor gives him a warning look— "I expect you to be on your best behaviour. Do not antagonize Miss Kuchiki unnecessarily."
Ichigo growls but grudgingly moves his stuff over, giving her space. Rukia sets her bag down, grabbing her textbook and quill with a grimace, keeping her eyes fixed at the blackboard and Urahara once she is seated. She has decided that she will not give him any more notice than necessary, no interaction beyond what that is needed to complete their assignment for the day.
"Now that we are all settled. The potion we're brewing today is- drum rolls please, Amortentia!"
All at once, excited chatters begin to stir. Rukia can feel it- the heat of so many pairs of eyes directed at their table, or rather more specifically at her partner. She is barely able to suppress a snort when he groans.
Helen of Troy may have had a face to launch a thousand ships into war, but Kurosaki is credited for being the main reason behind catfights and ruined friendships in Hogwarts. His mother is a known beauty and a pure-blooded heiress- a scion related to one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, while his father is a world-class professional Quidditch player and Hogwarts alumni. Fame, fortune and good looks are an irresistible combination.
It certainly doesn't hurt that years of playing Quidditch paid off, honing his muscles and reflexes. Disgusting personality and ugly scowl aside, Rukia has eyes. Tall and board-shouldered, Kurosaki fills out his school robes and Quidditch uniform nicely, garnering more than his fair share of sighs and swoons every time he takes to the air on his Firebolt. Much to her chagrin, he actually looks good in green. With his ginger hair and amber eyes, she would have thought that his colouring would clash horribly with the Slytherin colours.
She shakes her head. There is no accounting for taste, she supposes. Even Orihime has a massive crush on him. The thought annoys her to no end, no it is definitely not because she's jealous mind you (pigs will fly and hell will freeze over before that happens), or because she is narrow-minded enough to be swayed by centuries-old house rivalry. Rukia is annoyed because people are stupid and let themselves be taken in by a pretty face all the time. Kurosaki is nothing but an arrogant and insufferable jerk.
"As I am sure you all know, Amortentia is the strongest and most powerful love potion in existence, identifiable by three things: the beautiful mother-of-pearl sheen, spiralling steam and the aroma. It smells differently to everyone because it smells like what we are attracted to- regardless of whether we are consciously aware of the attraction or not."
The pointed look that Urahara directs at their table makes Rukia want to gag. Rest assured, the only desire she has for Kurosaki is to see the look on his stupid face when Gryffindor wins both the House Cup and the Quidditch Cup this year.
"Today, you will be brewing Amortentia with your partner. Decide on how to divide the tasks amongst yourselves. The pair, or pairs, who manage to brew the potion successfully, will find themselves handsomely rewarded for their efforts. You have exactly one hour and thirty minutes. Begin!"
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Rukia swipes at the beads of sweat with the back of her hand, wrinkling her nose at the strong smell of roses in the air. It is unavoidable, she supposes with both rose petals and rose thorn being prominent ingredients in the potion but such a strong, concentrated dose of it in an enclosed space made her nose itch.
The dungeon grows humid as the minutes trickle by. Vapour and steam from boiling cauldrons makes her hair damp and her shirt clings to her uncomfortably.
Like her, Kurosaki has shrugged off his outer robes from the heat, draping it over the back of the chair. The sleeves of his white long-sleeved shirt are rolled up to his elbows, his tie loosened discretely as he carefully stirs the potion, first anticlockwise, then three stirs clockwise. According to the book, the stirring needs to be repeated for seven times with a handful of crushed rose petals being added at every fourth stir.
Rukia times the stirs, counting out loud under her breath to make sure she adds the petals in at the right time, scarcely daring to take her eyes off the potion as it simmers in pale lavender- reminiscent of the moonstones that they had added in earlier, smelling like cotton candy and burnt sugar despite the overwhelming scent of roses in the air. The colour of the concoction begins to darken as Rukia adds in more rose petals.
When the last handful was added, Rukia straightens herself, releasing a breath she had unknowingly been holding.
She looks up from the now plum-coloured concoction. They are close. All they need to do now is to add the grounded pearl dust that she has painstakingly measured out. The addition of the final ingredient will give their potion its characteristic opalescent colour, completing the potion.
"Last fifteen minutes! Your potions should be, at the very least, in a very pretty shade of magenta by now."
Urahara's cheery voice makes her frown instead. She supposes that she should feel happy that the brewing process has gone much better than expected. Working with the scowling Slytherin isn't the slightest bit like working with Hanatarou, who takes his lead from her and in many ways, more of a follower than a partner during class, but it wasn't as dreadful as her mind made it up to be. She thought that he would be stubborn and condescending; rejecting all her opinions in favour of doing things his way. Rukia was prepared for it- prepared to shout, argue and stomp her feet if need be, those are her grades on the line after all, but Kurosaki has done none of those things. He asked for her opinion on things, albeit somewhat rudely, yet when she makes valid points he does take them on board. Neither of them has spoken a word to each other during the brewing, but clearly they work well together as evidenced by the potion between them.
Amortentia is an advanced potion, possibly NEWT-level or beyond and the difficulty of brewing such a potion shows. Most of their classmates are struggling with their potion even with the help of a partner. The potion made by Renji and Hanatarou bubbled and hissed in canary yellow, earning more than its fair share of raised eyebrows and wary looks until Urahara intervened, casting a freezing charm over the contents of the cauldron. He sighs, shaking his head in disappointment at the two students with their eyes downcast and faces tinged red with embarrassment.
"The book says to add the Ashwinder egg first. This isn't the first day of Potions and I would expect my sixth year students to understand the importance of following through the sequence of steps listed when it comes to brewing. And to add insult to injury, one of you has somehow managed to confuse Ashwinder eggs with Runespoor eggs—" Urahara frowns, his grey eyes narrowing— "I'd like to think I taught my students better than that! I expect a 5-page essay on the differences between Ashwinder eggs and Runespoor eggs, their respective properties and the common potions that they are used in, from both of you, on my office desk first thing in the morning."
"B-But Professor it's a Saturday tomor—"
"First thing in the morning, Abarai," says Urahara sharply, "no buts or you'll spend the next Hogsmeade weekend helping me organise the Potions cabinet and my own private store cupboard."
Rukia winces at the horrified look on both Renji's and Hanatarou's faces and hastily averts her gaze to her own potion. She stands by her verdict: Kurosaki is very much still an arrogant and insufferable prat but he knows his stuff.
She chances a glance at her partner. The skin showing on his forearm is for the lack of a better word, distracting and she can't help but allow her gaze to linger and trail- from the faint golden hair on his exposed arms to the arch of his cheekbones, the way his eyebrows furrow with concentration as he scans the written instructions, fingers thumbing at the pages.
If only he would stop scowling so much, she thought. He might even be, dare she say it, handsom—
"Oi, stop daydreaming, Kuchiki! You can't expect me to do all the hard work around here!"
Rukia frowns, jerking away from her thoughts at the sound of his voice. She scowls in response, glaring daggers at him. The fumes and steams must be getting to her. Here she was thinking that she might have somehow been wrong about him- that he could have been a decent human being underneath his snark and general unpleasantness.
Thank Merlin the illusion has been shattered just as quickly as it was starting to take shape!
She grits her teeth, chiding herself for even entertaining a thought that would suggest otherwise. Kurosaki has the attractiveness factor of a pickled slug!
"Oh of course! Adding the pearl dust, that Igrounded by the way, is such hard work! How would the Great Ichigo Kurosaki cope?"
Kurosaki growls and bristles at her sarcasm but Rukia merely rolls her eyes at him, snorting. "Contrary to what you believe, glaring at me isn't actually going to produce wandless magic to tip the dust into the potion. But hey if adding the pearl dust is too much of a hard work, all you have to do is ask. I would be more than happy to help."
He all but snatches the powdered pearl dust from the dish plate on the table, tipping the contents into the mixture without a further glance, snarling. "Don't worry. I'm not that desperate to come to you for help."
Rukia narrows her eyes, frowning as she crosses her arms. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Don't play dumb, Kuchiki. Everyone knows how much you hate Potions—" he smirks and Rukia has never felt a stronger urge to smack that look off his ugly face— "I was there when you tried to burn down the dungeons on the first day of class."
Colour stains her cheeks as Rukia splutters in embarrassment. She hisses, "It was an accident and you know it! I was just unlucky enough to— you know what? I shouldn't have to explain myself to you!"
He gives a careless shrug. "Whatever you say, midget."
"Merlin! You're such a childish prat! If you have something you want to say, you can say it to my face!"
"Why should I?" A sneer curls on Kurosaki's lips, making Rukia huff— "Not everyone is a simple-minded Gryffindor like you."
"Why you—"
While the bickering pair continue to trade insults back and forth, the silvery pearl dust swirls and blends with the concoction. All at once, the effects of the potent potion becomes known. The colour of it shifts from fuchsia- exotic and whimsical, the colour of rare tropical orchids, to a beautiful luminescent shade of off-white opal that swirls and shimmers as it catches the light. The fumes rise and float in purple and pink spirals and the smell—
Urahara tips his hat, hiding his wry grin under the brim of it. All in all, it is a textbook example of a successful Amortentia potion. His eyes glint knowingly at the pair as he gives a low whistle, successfully breaking up the name-calling and petty banter.
"Twenty points each to Gryffindor and Slytherin! An Amortentia potion brewed in record time! Seamless partnership and team work! Just what I expected from my star pupils. Miss Kuchiki!" he calls out cheerfully, "Why don't you share with us what you smell from the potion?"
Rukia gives him a sour look but begrudgingly obliges, sniffing the air delicately.
"I smell—"
She sighs. The air smells sweet- orange blossoms and lilies, tendrils of honeysuckles covering the walls, unfurling and blooming in the Kuchiki Gardens to signal the arrival of summer. She thinks she can taste it— the juiciness and tartness of crushed berries, the ice-cream melting on her tongue, the scent of rain that lingers in the air long after the skies have cleared.
Spring gives way to summer, evergreen and lush; joy everlasting.
When she breathes in deeper, she smells woody pine- the smell of broomstick and handle polish, the smell of tanned leather, the fresh chill in the air in the minutes just after dawn has broken. The morning air is crisp and sharp, making her senses come alive despite the cold. She feels the crunch and stain of cut grass, wet from dewdrops and morning frost, on the Hogwarts Grounds and its carefully tended Quidditch Pitch. Later, there is the warmth of the sun on her face, the wind in her hair as she takes flight and whizzes through the air, the rush of adrenaline thrumming through her veins when she dives, chasing after the Snitch.
Freedom with her two hands on the broom handle, high up above ground.
The fit of the Snitch within her palm—
The deafening cheer from the audience and her teammates, the rush of adrenaline still coursing through her veins when she alights—
Scarlet red and gold hanging from the ceilings in streamers and banners, hoisting the house cup and wizard cup up high during the End-of-Term Feast—
The sun doesn't set during the peak of summer. Everything is warm and golden and bright.
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"I smell sunshine, wet grass, leather and—"
There is more to it than scents and smells, feelings of exuberance, the roar of triumph at winning. Rukia shuts her eyes, inhaling deeply. She is missing something. The weird and wonderful mixture of scents- earthy summer heat, fresh morning air; the exhilaration like fire coursing through her veins that sends her heart pumping, all of it alludes to someone- someone she knows.
She inches closer towards the cauldron, hoping to get a better smell.
Then—
"Watch it, Kuchiki! Any closer and you'll tip the cauldron over. We don't need another repeat of your attempt at arson."
Rukia looks up, annoyed at Kurosaki's interruption. This, she thinks, is exactly why she should never be allowed to work with assholes like him. The jerk is disrespectful and mean and—
Her face pales. The realization is jarring and slams into her as though she has been stung by a manticore. That's the smell!
It smells like Kurosaki!
But how?
She hates him and the feeling is mutual! She knows it is. There is no way that she would ever get together with him. She can't be attracted to him! It… It goes against her Gryffindor principles and Kuchiki sensibilities!
Kurosaki is mean and sarcastic. He is condescending and he likes to make fun of her. So what if he looks good in green, or that she likes how he looks when he's sitting astride his Firebolt in his Quidditch uniform, tall and lean in his protective gear and leather arm guards, hair windswept and bangs covering his eyes- the gleam in his eyes mirroring her desire to win, his golden-eyed stare burning a hole into her back, following her every move even as she zigzags through the air, or- or that he has large hands and she has a thing for rolled up sleeves, the tantalizing glimpse of sun-kissed skin on his exposed forearms?
"And?"
Urahara's prompting jerks her away from her train of thoughts and the sense of dread that is slowly coiling about her. She presses a hand to her head. Her head is throbbing a little, possibly from the heat and her skin feels much warmer than she would like it to be.
She shakes her head, lying through her teeth. "A-And that's it."
"Hmm," Urahara makes a noise, his expression thoughtful but he doesn't broach the subject any further with her. Instead, he turns to her unsuspecting partner, wryly grinning, "What about you, Ichigo? What do you smell?"
Yes, she thinks, her eyes darting to Kurosaki, watching him for his reaction with obvious curiosity. Much like the rest of the class, she wants to know what he smelled. Her fists clench against the material of her skirt. What is he attracted to?
Could it be—
She watches with bated breath as Kurosaki closes his eyes, nostrils flaring. When he speaks, it is in a tight voice and his expression is guarded.
"Strawberries," he says gruffly, crossing his arms, his cheeks tinged pink but the scowl on his face easily stills the teasing coming his way, "Old books and flowers- I don't know what kind. Something light and airy. I- I—" he swallows thickly, clearing his throat— "I like it a lot."
Rukia doesn't know how to describe this feeling that assails her. It feels eerily similar to disappointment, but she shakes it off, telling herself that she doesn't have a reason to be like that. She shouldn't feel this way. She doesn't even like him for crying out loud!
"Well, since you both smelled entirely different things, I'd say that the potion is a success!" announces Urahara, chuckling heartily. "Well done you two!"
Urahara's attention soon turns to other students in the room who have also managed to finish brewing the potion within the allocated time. Despite being an eccentric, he isn't as terrible as his predecessor when it comes to the actual teaching. He offers his critique and suggestions to the individual students, before wandering back to the blackboard riddled with his messy cursive writing, patiently explaining the theory behind the brewing and what they can expect in the NEWTs from it.
Rukia knows that she should be taking notes, but she is only half-listening. She becomes stupidly aware of Kurosaki's presence beside her. His hair has always stood out. There is a running joke somewhere about him being related to the Weasleys, but now she finds herself wondering how it would feel under her fingers.
She sneaks a glance at his side of the table and notices for the first time that he has surprisingly neat and legible handwriting. An ink blot grows on her otherwise blank parchment that she only realizes at Kurosaki's elbow nudges. She squeaks, flustered at the thought of being caught day-dreaming and resolutely glares at Urahara for the rest of the lesson.
"The pairs that have managed to brew the Amortentia potion successfully today are exempt from the assignment I'm assigning to the rest of the class. I expect a 10-page essay on the potion, detailing the use of the individual ingredients and what you think is the most important ingredient that gives Amortentia its fabled potency. Based on your theory, how would you then brew an antidote to counteract its effect? I expect to see this on my table by Wednesday."
There is a collective groan from the students. Rukia only manages a weak smile at being exempt from the assignment. When Urahara dismisses them, wishing them a happy weekend ahead, she packs her bag, almost bumping into Hanatarou in her haste. She mumbles her apology; her mind still in a strange sort of daze.
She decides that she will go to the Library after this. She still has her essay on Arithmancy and maybe when she has the time later, she can catch up on some light reading for her Transfiguration classes.
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"Orihime! Are you coming?"
"Y-Yes!" Orihime squeaks, hurriedly hiding her hands behind her back. Her fists clenched tightly around a glass vial, no bigger than the size of her palm, its contents pearlescent and almost glowing. She plasters on a fake smile.
Tatsuki's eyebrows furrow. Though Orihime is usually chipper and upbeat, her high-pitched squeak sounds a bit off today. It isn't like her to stay behind after class either, especially not Potions. She has been looking forward to the weekend too.
"Is everything alright?" she asks again.
Orihime nods enthusiastically, carefully tucking the vial into the pockets of her student robes. Out of sight, out of mind- for now, at least.
"Let's go, Tatsuki! I am really excited for the weekend!" she says, linking her hands in the crook of Tatsuki's elbow, dragging her out of the classroom with an exaggerated bounce to her step, "I just thought of a new recipe! Maybe the nice house elves will be willing to try it this time!"
"Ah. Maybe we should leave the baking to the house elves."
Orihime remains optimistic, giggling and chattering away about her plans and recipe despite Tatsuki's less-than enthused response. Their voices trail off and the sound of their footsteps gradually disappears.
Alone in the classroom, Urahara notes the disappearance of the glass vial with a small smirk, saying nothing else as he sets about tidying the dungeon, replenishing the stocks in preparation for the next lesson.
Ah, he muses to himself, young love!
Inoue's actions are unexpected but he supposes that the girl is a Gryffindor for a reason- brave but for all the wrong reasons. He has little doubt what she would be up to now that she has successfully swiped a sample of the Amortentia potion she brewed out of the classroom. She wouldn't be the first victim of jealousy and one-sided pining and Urahara doubts that she would be the last.
It's a good thing that he always has the ingredients for an antidote in stock!
He hopes but nevertheless doubts that a sourpuss like Ichigo would appreciate the humour in his situation. He doesn't know where that boy gets it from, so uptight and serious all the time when Isshin is a goofball and at his age, a certified troublemaker. It must be all that pureblood business he has inherited from his mother's side of the family.
He shakes his head. That boy is never going to get a date with Kuchiki like this.
As Shakespeare once said, the course of true love never did run smooth- not with a love potion, a jealous classmate, and a Potion Master a little too heavily invested in his godson's love life.
.
.
.
Here's the thing: Orihime is 99.999% sure that Kurosaki-kun was talking about her during Potions. The smells that he mentioned when he was telling the class what he smelled from the Amortentia potion- they fit her to a T.
The strawberries?
She loves strawberries (no puns intended)! She had them for breakfast that morning- strawberry compote on top of her daily serving of waffles filled with red bean paste.
The flowers?
Herbology is her favourite subject! She is always helping out in the greenhouse and the plants love her. Even the mandrakes seem to take an exception to her, mellowing out and their cries somewhat less high-pitched when she is in the vicinity. The magical plants are sentient and she believes that her sunshine-like personality easily wins them over.
As for the old book smell?
She wrinkles her nose. It has always been stuffy in the dungeons. The smell of roses was particularly overpowering that day. It isn't completely unthinkable that he got confused, mistaking one smell for another. Strange things like that have been known to happen from time to time.
Like how he got partnered with Rukia for the Amortentia potion.
The thought makes her fist clench and something ugly rears its head within her. All of Hogwarts knows how much they hate each other, but Orihime is a self-professed Ichigo Kurosaki connoisseur. She has watched him from the shadows long enough to know his tells. She knows that she hadn't imagine the faint curl of his lips when he was bantering with Rukia. Despite what Ichigo says, his eyes always light up when he sees her and he always gets up to make room for her. Actions have always spoken louder than words and Orihime has never felt the sentiments so strongly, has never felt herself capable of hate until now.
Rukia may be a true Gryffindor- brave, steadfast and loyal, but she doesn't deserve Ichigo Kurosaki. Nobody does, actually. Orihime knows that she is the only person that would be right for him, the only person who knows what's best for him.
She grimaces. Watching their interaction during class has been painful, making her wish she had the courage to approach Kurosaki-kun and ask to be partners instead. They were standing so close to each other, yet neither of them was fazed by the many pairs of eyes staring at them. It's like they forget that they aren't the only ones in the room, forget that other people exist too when they have each other in their line of sight.
The timing of the Amortentia potion was a godsend. It was as though the Fates themselves have decided to intervene on her behalf and the stars have aligned themselves for this. Orihime saw her chance and she took it, slyly filling up a glass vial with the contents of the love potion when she was sure no one was looking and taking it with her after class ended.
She regrets nothing. Just thinking about the way Kurosaki-kun looks at Rukia- all boyish charm and playful scowls, his eyes that gleam a little too tender, too soft to be brushed off as a trick of the light-is too much. It is a glaring reminder of everything that Orihime yearns but doesn't have. Jealousy takes hold of her, sinking its claws deep into her and makes a home in her bones.
It is not fair. Rukia already has so much. She has everything. She is a Prefect, Quidditch Captain for Gryffindor; practically a shoe-in for Head Girl next year. Her family is powerful and her brother is the current Minister for Magic. The professors like her and her housemates look up to her. She can't have Ichigo too!
For once- just once, can a quiet, unassuming wallflower like Orihime be given the chance to shine instead?
Would it be too much to ask for Kurosaki-kun to pay attention to her?
Orihime steels her heart, feeling justified in her actions as she grips the box of chocolate tightly. Ichigo likes chocolate and he gets presents like this all the time. He wouldn't suspect a thing and he certainly won't suspect that this particular box of chocolate has been made with special care and love, laced with Amortentia to ensure that he falls in love with the right person.
Guilt swells within Orihime but she reassures herself. She is nothing like the other witches who would drug and manipulate Kurosaki-kun into falling in love, keeping him fed thereafter with regular doses of the potion to make sure that he never leaves her. She isn't like that. She is not a bad person. The potion is just- just a little push for him to realize his true feelings for her.
She isn't like Rukia- strong, vivacious with a powerful brother to fall back on. A nobody like her will need all the help that she can get for someone like Ichigo to notice her. But once they are together, Orihime is sure- as sure as she knows that she is a witch and that Kurosaki-kun is her knight in shining armour, and that they are meant to be- he would fall for her too- truly, madly and deeply.
There would be no need for further doses of Amortentia and they can all live happily ev—
"Orihime!"
Tatsuki's hand presses down on her shoulder, making her jump. She drops her box of chocolate, feeling her heart leap to her throat until she realizes that none of the chocolate has fallen out. She heaves a sigh of relief, picking up the box immediately. She straightens herself only to come face to face with Tatsuki and the suspicious look that the black-haired girl gives her.
"What's that you've got behind you?"
"N-Nothing," Orihime mumbles, feeling the instinctive need to hide the box, keeping it out of sight and out of reach. Every witch worth her salt, who has ever heard and knows the lyrics of Celestina Warbeck's A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love knows that Amortentia will cause the person to fall in love with the giver of the potion. That is why she needs to be the person to give the chocolates to Kurosaki-kun and be the first person he sees after he eats them; the bond will be the strongest then.
This is her one and only chance. She can't let anyone, not even her best friend come between her and her shot at happily ever after as Mrs. Kurosaki!
Tatsuki squints at her, hands on her hips. "What's the matter with you? You've been acting strange for the past few days. This isn't like you at all! I didn't even see you go into the Great Hall for breakfast this morning. Are you even ready for class? Where are your books?"
Orihime's hands reach for the strap of her bag that she was sure was hanging from her shoulder. It isn't there. Her gaze falls to her chair but it isn't there either. Her bag is missing. She must have left it in the Gryffindor common room!
Aside from Potions, Charms is the only class that Gryffindors share with Slytherins. Class starts soon but she can still make it if she makes a run for it.
"I'll be back," she tells Tatsuki, already running towards the doors.
Tatsuki merely shakes her head. Orihime is her best friend but there are times when even Tatsuki is convinced that the girl would lose her head if it weren't already screwed on to the rest of her body. She settles into the seat next to the one that Orihime has just vacated. The tables in Charms are arranged in rows of three. By taking the middle one, she easily takes over the whole front row, saving a seat for both Rukia, who Tatsuki last saw feeding herself toast like a zombie in the Great Hall, and Orihime when the scatterbrain comes back later.
She gives a casual glance at the small square-shaped box on the adjacent table, wrapped with shiny paper and tied with a pretty pink bow. In her haste, Orihime has left the box behind unattended. Tatsuki shrugs, more so when she notices the card on the box that reads: To Ichigo.
The dark-haired girl hides her smile. She thinks she knows what's going on here. Orihime has had a crush on Ichigo for the longest time. She must have decided to finally do something about her feelings and confess. That would explain why she has been so jittery and acting so strangely after Potions.
Maybe brewing Amortentia in class has finally given her the push that she needs. Tatsuki is happy for her best friend. If all goes well, she and Rukia won't be the only ones to suffer the next time Orihime decides to challenge the limits of human taste buds, coming up with a recipe that combines two random food ingredients that have no business of being together- like a horseradish and banana pie.
She shudders at the memory. Orihime can save her culinary masterpieces for her boyfriend. Everyone else's stomach and taste buds will be immensely grateful.
.
Monday mornings are always a pain but today, Rukia stumbles her way out of bed into the Great Hall and her morning Charms class with the sort of bone-dead weariness she usually reserves for the morning after Gryffindor loses their Quidditch match.
She enters the room and settles into the seat next to Tatsuki with a heavy groan. She can barely muster the energy to greet Tatsuki. There are bags under her eyes. She feels tired and sluggish. Her brain feels fuzzy, humming with strange thoughts that have kept her awake for the past three nights.
Stifling her loud yawn with the back of her hand, she blinks when she realizes that there is a wrapped box on her desk. The pink bow on it is gaudy but the little note that's stuck on it makes her stomach churn.
To Ichigo.
Rukia stands up abruptly, pushing her chair back with such forcefulness that it makes Tatsuki jump. She turns. Her fists clench and her lips curl into a snarl. Her eyes darts across the room and falls immediately on the scowling ginger, who sits closest to the doors. Ichigo- Kurosaki, she corrects herself- is hunched over his seat with a book open on his desk. He looks up when he feels her stare on him, quirking an eyebrow at her.
She has had it! Merlin's beard, what is wrong with this world?
Ichigo this, Ichigo that!
Last time she checked the world didn't revolve around anyone, much less a stupid, condescending, rude and ill-mannered carrot-top Slytherin!
Enough is enough!
It is time to set things straight once and for all. There is no way in this world and the next that she would ever be attracted to him! Who does he think he is?
"Rukia, what's gotten into y—"
.
Smack!
.
Ignoring Tatsuki's questioning look and attempt to hold her back, Rukia marches over to the Slytherin's table and all but slams the box down in front of him, glaring daggers.
"Stop throwing your shit everywhere, Kurosaki! Why is your stuff on my desk?!"
He seems taken aback at first at her explosive outburst. His brown eyes peer at the box, eyebrows furrowing as he stands to his full height, staring her down. "I have never seen this box in my life. And it says on the card "To Ichigo" meaning that the box is gifted to me by an anonymous person. Stop trying to blame me for everything, Kuchiki! I can't be made responsible for another person's actions."
Rukia's scowl deepens, huffing angrily before she rolls her eyes, pointedly averting her gaze. "Whatever, Kurosaki. Your fangirls are crazy. Control them!"
"I just told you I can't control someone's actions!"
"And I just told you that I don't care! Just stop leaving your stuff everywhere, okay?!"
"I just— ughh!—" With an angry snarl, Ichigo rips the box apart, tearing away the wrapping paper. He grabs one of the chocolate and stuffs it into his mouth, chewing loudly and spitefully. The smooth praline melts in his mouth. The gooey center is filled with liqueur and the fiery tang of it burns at his throat slightly.
Ichigo makes a face. It is a bit too sweet for his liking. "There! You happy now?"
"Immensely!"
With that parting shot, Rukia turns on her heels, stomping her way back to her seat. The other students stare, their whispers are loud and the gossipy gleam in their eyes is in full force. The weight of their stares digs into her back uncomfortably and even Tatsuki gives her a disapproving frown.
Luckily, she is saved by the timely arrival of Professor Shihouin, sweeping into class in a sleek, figure-hugging black dress with Orihime panting and wheezing behind her. Upon her arrival, the class falls silent and Orihime quietly sneaks into the seat left for her.
Panting loudly, Orihime tries her best to catch her breath, breathing through her mouth. A surge of impending doom grips at her when she notices that the seat that she was originally in, is now being occupied by Rukia and the box of chocolate is nowhere to be seen.
She gulps nervously and turns to Tatsuki, whispering, "I left a box on the desk just now. Where is it?"
Tatsuki shakes her head. Jerking her thumb at Rukia, she says, "You can thank Miss Cranky Pants over there. She just did you a favour and delivered your box of chocolate for you."
"WHAT?!"
Orihime immediately clamps a hand over her mouth but her outburst is too loud. Everyone in class heard it. They turn their head towards her and she gives a sheepish smile, earnestly apologizing to the professor for disrupting class.
Her gaze lingers on Ichigo or more specifically, the open box of chocolate on his desk. Her heart falls to the pit of her stomach in despair, feeling on the verge of tearing her hair out in frustration. She clenches her fist, chewing at her bottom lip. How did this happen?
She can't have him falling in love with Rukia!
.
.
.
Charms is boring, no offence to Yoruichi. The woman is brilliant at teaching Charms and being a registered Animagus, extremely knowledgeable in Transfiguration. It just so happens that neither Charms nor Transfiguration is his favourite subject.
Ichigo heaves a sigh. He can't seem to concentrate at all this morning. The midget is as per usual, petty and demanding.
His eyes linger and he can't seem to look away. The bang between her eyes is in the way again as she huffs, tucking it behind her ears. He suppresses a smirk at that, more so when she scowls at her parchment, no doubt at the presence of ink blots. Her penmanship really leaves much to be desired.
The way that she chews at her bottom lip when she is scribbling down notes, eyebrows furrowing with attention as Yoruichi drones on about the wand motions and proper enunciation— Ichigo shakes his head, his gaze once again lingering on Rukia who is sitting at the front row. He doesn't understand.
How can someone so tiny demand so much attention from him?
He drums his fingers against the desk listlessly, wondering how and why her hair today is glossier and softer than usual today. His fingers are fidgety, overwhelmed by the sudden itch to touch her hair, to twirl his finger at the ends of it, playing with it. Her pretty eyes seem to sparkle with an extra shine today and even that stubborn tilt of her chin when she is being disagreeable is adorable.
His hand clutches at his heart. Something feels off.
Ichigo wonders if he is coming down with something. There is something not quite right with him. His chest burns and he has an inexplicable urge to wax poetry about her- about how lovely she looks with her hair cut short, framing her face, how he likes her smile and that he would die a happy man if she were ever to direct that at him, instead of glaring at him all the time. He swears he doesn't do it on purpose but Rukia is just too fun to rile up. The stray bang between her eyes makes her look so cute that all he wants to do is to stuff her into his pocket and keep her there.
His mouth goes dry at the sudden realization. He thinks- he thinks that he might just be in love with her!
That last thought is startling and creeps up upon him unaware, but stranger still is the urge to announce his finding with the rest of the class. He clamps a hand to his mouth, trying his best to fight the pull.
There is something really not right with him today. He needs to go to the hospital wing.
Ichigo holds it together for the most part. No one else notices his discomfort though he looks away whenever he thinks Rukia is looking at him. When class ends, he stuffs his books into his bag, grimacing when he notices the open box of chocolate. He ate it to prove a point but the chocolate is so sweet that it's tooth-rotting. He makes a mental note to throw it away at the first chance he gets.
Just when he is about to congratulate himself for not embarrassing himself and keeping his secret to himself—
Disaster!
"Renji, that's five points from Slytherin! I saw you! I can't believe that you had fried chicken for breakfast and you still sneaked the leftovers into class?"
Ichigo stiffens, his attention drifting to the pair as Rukia confronts the other Slytherin just outside the doors. His fists clench and he begins to scowl before he even realizes it. Why is it that she calls everyone else by their first name and yet he is always Kurosaki or Strawberry to her?
"Aww come on, Rukia! Can't you just let this go? Just this once?"
"Consider this an intervention, Renji. You need help. Look at this—" Rukia grabs him by his hand, pointing out the grease marks on his shirt sleeves, the flaky bits of fried chicken still on him. She shakes her head, tutting at him, "Your obsession with fried chicken is getting out of control."
The redhead scowls, obviously in denial, and raises his voice. "You can't make me!"
Rukia seems to flinch at the harshness of his tone but her hold on Renji's hand doesn't loosen. Ichigo zeroes in at the sight, angry in ways that he can't quite comprehend. He can't help but step in.
He grabs Renji by the front of his robe, their faces suddenly inches apart. "Watch your tone, Renji! And get away from her! Keep your hands to yourself, you fried chicken-obsessed dunderhead!"
Renji's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Um… I am not touching her? She's touching me?"
"I don't care!" Ichigo harrumphs, wrenching Rukia's hand free from Renji's wrist with a snarl. "Rukia is mine! Stay away from her!"
There is stunned silence from the crowd, though a second later chatter resumes- loudly and enthusiastically. In the background, Rukia hears a sharp and loud gasp of 'Kurosaki-kun!' but the heart-wrenching cries are just as quickly being drowned out by catcalls and gleeful chortles.
"See? I told you he has feelings for her! He just needed a little push. Now, pay up!"
That sounds remarkably like Hanatarou but Rukia has never imagined that the polite and soft-spoken Gryffindor would have it in him to sound so proud and firm.
Rukia yelps loudly in surprise when she finds herself swept into his arms, hefted and carried like she weighed little more than a sack of flour. She finds herself the target of many bemused looks and a few jealous-riddled glares. Her face flushes into a deep scarlet. She squirms against him.
"Ichigo," she hisses, "What do you think you're doing? Put me down right now!"
"No!"
If anything, the hold on her tightens and she finds herself pressed against his chest. Her world smells like Ichigo- summer air, warm and earthy. It is a scent reminiscent of the one that she smelled from Amortentia and she panics. Her hand falls to the base of her wand, tugging it free to point it at Ichigo point blank.
Her magic flares and she utters the first spell that comes to mind.
"Flipendo!"
The result is instantaneous. She blinks and almost immediately finds herself on the floor while Ichigo goes flying through the air, eyes wide with surprise. He hits the stone floor with a dull thud and falls unconscious.
Rukia picks herself up gingerly. She winces, her hand rubbing at her tender bottom where she fell first. Her fingers are trembling when she realizes the extent of her actions. The unconscious Ichigo is quickly surrounded by his classmates, some brave enough to poke a finger at his scowling face.
"Kurosaki-kun!"
"Is he dead?"
Yoruichi's voice is stern and cuts through the din like a blade. "Why are you all loitering about in the hallways? The next class starts soon. Why are you all— Merlin's balls!— what happened?"
The students part to let her through and she immediately crouches next to Ichigo, checking his pulse. Yoruichi feels for his ribs, heaving a sigh of relief when she realizes that he has not broken any bones and is not showing any other signs of injury on him.
"The rest of you are to go to class. Immediately! Rukia," she says, jolting the shell-shocked student from her stupor. Yoruichi's tone softens when she notices the horrified look on Rukia's face. "Come with me. We're going to pay Madame Unohana a visit in the hospital wing. You can tell me what happened on our way there."
.
.
His head throbs when he comes to. Ichigo groans, pressing a hand to his head. He is in the hospital wing and on a sick bed. The light that streams through the open windows is bright and the heat of midday is unmistakeable. His stomach gives a loud rumble and he hisses sharply when his fingers press a little too hard against the lump on his head.
"You're awake!"
Rukia's face is disconcertingly close to his when he looks up.
"What the fuck, midget! What are you doing here? Don't scare me like that!"
She frowns at that, smoothing at the folds of her skirt as she settles back into the chair by his side. She sighs, "Well, looks like you're back to normal now. Urahara was right."
Ichigo quirks an eyebrow at that. "Right about what?"
Rukia gives him a sheepish smile. "You were poisoned. The chocolate you ate had Amortentia in them," she explains, "Urahara prepared the antidote as soon as he heard about you being admitted and Madame Unohana was able to feed it to you while you were unconscious."
Ah, Ichigo made a face. That would explain the strange taste in his mouth then.
He sighs, reclining against the headboard and resting the back of his head gently against it. "You know," he teases, "if you wanted a date that badly, all you had to do was ask. You didn't have to drug me with Amortentia to make me go out with you."
Rukia glares. Colour rises to her cheeks and her face feels uncomfortably hot. "D-Don't flatter yourself, Ich- Kurosaki! I-I didn't do it on purpose! I told you that I found the box on my desk. I had no idea that they had Amortentia in them!"
"An apology would be nice!"
Rukia snorts, rising to her feet, hands at her waist as she glares. "You owe me an apology too! You grabbed me in front of all those people! They're never going to let me live it down—" her bony finger pokes at his chest— "It's all your fault!"
Ichigo scowls. Rukia is close enough that he sees the violet flecks in them, close enough for him to smell her and the shampoo that she uses is strangely floral and sweet- like a smell that he smelled before though he doesn't quite remember where.
He clears his throat. "You really need another hobby. Stop blaming everything on me, Kuchiki. You can't jus—"
Oh!
The sudden realization makes him gulp. "It's you!"
Rukia furrows her eyebrows, perplexed. "Me what, Kurosaki? You're not making a lot of sens—"
"You're the one that I smelled during Potions. The flowery smell- it's the smell of your shampoo!"
She stiffens. "I-I'll go get Madame Unohana. Maybe Urahara's antidote didn't work as well as it should."
Rukia turns to leave but Ichigo grabs her by the wrist, pulling her towards him. Their lips meet softly as Ichigo cups at her cheek with his other hand. His lips are much softer than imagined and her fingers thread at his hair, feeling their silky softness. She brings them closer together, deepening the kiss. The tip of his nose nudges softly against hers and she sighs, giving in to the fantasy that has been plaguing her dreams since the last Potions lesson.
At length, they separate, both a little pink in the cheek and breathing hard. Ichigo rests his forehead against hers, smiling shyly at her.
"I'm an idiot," he tells her, "I like you. A lot."
She laughs, interlocking their fingers. "Me too," she admits with a wry grin. "When Urahara asked me what I smelled, the last thing that I didn't mention- it was you. I smelled you. The leather, the grass— it was all you. I was just so afraid that you—"
Ichigo groans, pressing a soft kiss to her lips, cutting her off. "We're both idiots," he whispers, "Go on a date with me next Hogsmeade weekend."
Rukia nods. Ichigo smelled her scent with Amortentia. He feels the same way about her. He likes her too! The thought makes her giggle, feeling a sudden surge of giddy schoolgirl excitement bubble within her.
"It's a date, Ichigo."
.
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*whispers* Every day is Ichiruki day! U.U
Late entry what?