Madam Pince quietly hummed to herself as she shut down the library for the night. "This is how it should be all the time" she thought "no dirty students messing the books up. Who knows where their hands have been". Sighing, she exited through the door behind her desk into her living quarters, maybe for a quick read before she retired for the night.
Hermione smiled to herself. Her plan was victorious.
For the past half an hour she had been sitting in the very back corner of the Restricted Section, waiting for the hawk-like librarian to leave. Lighting her wand and placing it on top of a nearby stack of dusty books, Hermione grinned. Finally a quiet sanctuary where she could think. No gossiping girls. No obnoxious trouble makers. No homework. No Harry. No Ron.
No Ron.
Over the past year, Hermione had come to the fact that she was madly in love with her ginger-haired friend. Well, she had always liked him, ever since 1st year. Over and over again, though, he kept breaking her heart. The Scabbers Incident. The Yule Ball. Lavender Brown. But she couldn't get enough of him.
Sighing, a train of thoughts ran through her head.
You should probably study for Snape's test while you're here.
Ron broke up with Lavender yesterday.
Will my 3 rolls of parchment for Mcgonagall be enough?
Ron looks very fit lately. Must be the quidditch.
I hope I got an O on my essay for Professor Vector.
You almost let your love for Ron slip in Potions today.
Hermione cringed as she looked back on what happened.
Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ernie chose a table in potions that day that was next to a gold-colored cauldron that was emitting the most seductive scents Hermione had ever smelt. Slughorn, interrogated the class about the contents of various cauldrons scattered around the room (Hermione of course, the only one with answers). When it came to the potion next to them, her hand was in the air.
"Excellent, excellent! Now, this one here...yes, my dear?" said Slughorn, now looking slightly bemused, as Hermione's hand punched the air again.
"It's Amortentia!"
"It is indeed. It seems almost foolish to ask," said Slughorn, who was looking mightily impressed, "but I assume you know what it does?"
"It's the most powerful love potion in the world!", said Hermione.
"Quite right! You recognized it, I suppose by its distinctive mother-of-pearl sheen?"
"And the steam rising in characteristic spirals," said Hermione enthusiastically, "and it's supposed to smell differently to each of us, according to what attracts us, and I can smell freshly mowed grass and new parchment and -"
She didn't finish. She couldn't. Not with Ron and the Slytherins right there, because then everyone would know what she thought of Ron (and she wasn't ready for that).
The other scent the Amortentia mimicked for her was the perfume Ron had given her last Christmas.
It was a delicate floral scent with undertones of coconut and vanilla. Hermione had never worn it, but she loved it for one reason.
Ronald had given it to her.
The most sentimental gift she had ever received from a guy.
Hermione frowned. If only her could be like that all the time. Ron was incredibly tactless.
Yawning, Hermione laid her head on a pile of books, and her eyelids flickered shut.
