a girl is no one

As if!

Her peripatetic, ochre eyes, flutter incoherently as she steps forward maladroitly. The prevailing Amortentia brewing gently in the cauldron before her instantly infatuates her intricate mind with memories of him. The smell hits her unswervingly, “Amortentia doesn’t create actual love, of course. That’s impossible. But it does cause a powerful infatuation or obsession. For that reason, it is probably the most dangerous potion in this room.” Finishes Horace, his eyes wandering, liberally. ‘’Ms. Granger?’’

She gulps apprehensively and says, ‘’It has a different aroma for everyone who smells it, reminding each person of the things that they find most attractive, even if the person themselves don’t acknowledge or are unaware of their fondness for the object of their affection.’’ Her head snaps up as soon as the aroma engulfs her.

‘’Yes, Ms. Granger,’’ Slughorn praises, raising his brows in a gesture for her to carry on.

‘’F—for example… I smell…’’ Her eyes close fleetingly and she swallows the bile that rekindles in her throat. The intoxication of spiced apples overwhelms her sinuses, clouding her mind with lustful proclivity. It’s the perfectly memorable scent of his soft; porcelain skin and that garland flurry that laces through his velvety hair. She catches it sometimes as he brushes past her in the hallway, but it’s more than enough to incarcerate her pride she desperately tries to protect. ‘’Freshly cut grass, new parchment and…spearmint toothpaste.’’ Hermione lies—her head bowing slightly. She looks sideways, almost feeling her heart stop as she notices his stormy, glossy eyes staring directly at her. Her tawny eyes twitch and she pulls her head upwards, stepping back into the small crowd of students.