Autor's Note:
Hi everyone! This is another short random piece. It takes place in 6th year, during the first potions class. Except for the last bit. That doesn't really have a setting, its just a refelction.
Thank you to everyone who added this to their alert list or favorite story list and to those who added me to their favorite author list. You guys are honesestly absolutely amazing!
This hasn't been read through by anyone, so all the errors and awkwardness are all me.
The dialogue here is straight out of Half-Blood Prince which was written by J.K. Rowling who I am not.
I have recieved a lot of really great suggestions for scenes that I should do, and I am planning to do all the suggestions I have recieved so far, but if any of you guys have any more, I'd love to hear them!
Reviews are super, super awesome! And people who review are super, super, super awesome. (does that look like bribery at all?)
Any who, enjoy this. It is admitedly pretty pointless.

Chapter 7: Amortensia

Ron sat down beside Harry and Hermione at a table where a golden cauldron was emitting steam in great spirals. He didn't notice the smell at first. It smelled of strawberry shampoo and old books, it did not strike him as an odd smell because he smelled it every time he stood beside Hermione. He took another breath, and only when he found that he could also smell the Burrow, and all his favorite candy that he realized the smell was in fact coming from the cauldron and not the girl beside him.

He could not understand how this potion could combine all of the things that he loved in such an enchanting, engrossing way, but it was completely amazing. He found he was breathing much more deeply, and more frequently than normal. Harry grinned at him; it seemed that the potion was having a similar effect on him as well. He was half curious what Harry smelled, but he did not want to ask and moreover he did not want to say what he smelled.

Ron hardly paid attention as Hermione answered each of Slughorn's questions. The intoxicating scent of the potion was making him feel incredibly happy, almost hopeful. He breathed again and again, letting the scent fill him up.

"Excellent, excellent!" Slughorn beamed as he gestured to the cauldron in front of them. "Now this one here…yes, my dear?" Hermione's hand had shot into the air again.

"It's Amortensia!" she replied, and Ron turned to look at her. Under the influence of this intoxicating potion he was almost tempted to actually reach out and kiss her. He shook his head, almost thankful that he didn't have that much nerve.

"It is indeed. It seems almost foolish to ask, but I assume you know what it does?" Slughorn sounded incredibly impressed.

"It's the most powerful love potion in the world!" Hermione answered enthusiastically.

Slughorn and Hermione continued to discuss the qualities of Amortensia, but Ron was not listening. He was still processing the idea of the amazing smell coming from love potion.

"It's supposed to smell differently to each of us, according to what attracts us, and I can smell freshly mown grass and new parchment and—" for some reason, Hermione did not finish her sentence and instead blushed and lapsed into silence.

Under normal circumstances, he would have been angry at the way the world was so rudely reminding him how he felt about Hermione. But today, not only was he not angry, he was positively optimistic about it. What had she been about to say? Of course it was probably not what he wanted it to be. For all he knew she was going to say Harry, or Krum or God knows what else, but he could not stifle the hope that maybe, just maybe she would have said his own name…

xxxxxxxxxx

She wouldn't always smell like strawberry shampoo and old books. There was be a time when he had held her in his arms and she had smelled only of dirt and dust and fear and blood. She grew up and changed shampoos, exchanging the scent of strawberry for 'Spring Breeze' or something that she deemed more adult like. But there would never be a day after that one when the smell of her hair, whatever it might smell like, would not fill him with a sort of reluctant hope. Even when he was at his absolute weakest, when the world looked so hopeless and bleak he couldn't remember why he even wanted to live, somewhere inside him there was a hope. And even if he chose to ignore it, chose to listen to the locket's words in his head or to think of Fred instead, the smell of her would always remind him that he loved her, and with that there was always hope…