"Why is this even part of the NEWT syllabus?" Lily muttered to Yvette as she watched over her cauldron of simmering Amortentia. It was important to be able to identify love potions, of course, in case someone tried to spike your drink with it, but it was seriously messed up that they were being taught – and tested on – how to brew one correctly. Weren't they one of those things that the teaching staff should try to condemn, rather than facilitate, the use of?
"Because the bureaucrats in charge of the decision are a bunch of pigheaded pureblood traditionalists," the Ravenclaw replied automatically, picking at her nail polish as she waited for her own potion to finish brewing. Having grown up in a pureblood household herself, albeit a much more progressive one, the Ministry's dogmatism had long since seized to surprise her. "They think people should know how to make it in case they end up in an unhappy marriage and want an easy fix to a complicated problem. Of course, they choose to ignore the fact that it could just as easily be used to forcesomeone into an unhappy marriage."
"Idiots."
"Yeah. But who's the greater fool – those who are fools or those who willingly follow fools?"
"In this case, the leading fools. Seeing as how they set the curriculum, those of us who follow along with it are just doing what it takes to get good marks."
The liquid had finally acquired its idiosyncratic mother-of-pearl sheen, so, with a well-practiced hand, Lily doused the fire and removed the cauldron to give the infusion a chance to cool. The move placed the potion right in front of her, however, and she swayed forward as she got caught up in the temptation of the spiralling steam.
"Go on," Yvette said, barely looking up from her nails. "Do it. I dare you."
Laughing, Lily stuck her tongue out at her. "If you insist." Leaning forward ever-so-slightly, she used her hand to carefully waft the fumes towards her nose. Almost immediately, the scent of old books, crisp morning air, broom polish and pine trees overwhelmed her senses. It was the most amazing fragrance she'd ever smelled. All she wanted to do was to immerse herself in the heady scent, but she knew she might then lose herself it. Forcing herself to instead follow the proper procedure for smelling potions' fumes, she took another deep whiff of the intoxicating scent.
And her eyes shot open. She had expected the smell of the books; it had been her favourite smell since she was little, so it would have been more surprising had it not been there. The undercurrents of fresh air, while not necessarily expected, hadn't been a surprise either. But broom polish? She liked flying, and she knew how to maintain a broom, but it wasn't like she loved it. And what about the pine trees? She had always preferred lakes to forests.
Of course, she knew exactly who smelled like both of those things; her boyfriend. Almost of its own accord, her gaze swept over in his direction, taking in the sight of him huddled over his own cauldron. She certainly cared about him, but was it love? Had she somehow fallen for him without even realising it?
She was so deep in thought that Yvette had to pose the question, "So what's the verdict? What does love smell like to you?" twice before it registered as being more than just a jumble of nonsensical sounds.
"James," Lily whispered. "It smells like James."