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"Not a very easy potion to brew, is it?"
Elsie hissed a sigh through gritted teeth as she glared at her small vial of Amortentia. She'd had to redo the potion after failing it twice, with Sharp intervening on what he hoped was her final attempt. He had assigned Leander as her guide while muttering a prayer to Merlin that he wouldn't have to waste any more ingredients on her.
And Prewett, although fairly adept at potions, was unable to stop himself from coddling her throughout the entirety of the lesson.
“Make sure you only stir clockwise,” he’d say, as she was already in the middle of stirring clockwise.
Halfway through cracking an Ashwinder egg, “Don’t forget to add the Ashwinder eggs before the pearl dust.”
“Your smoke should be curling in spirals,” as she analyzed the spirals. “If not, you’ll have to—”
“Start over, I know!” she snapped. “Merlin, it doesn’t help if you tell me what to do as I’m doing it!”
Eyes wide with shock, he scrubbed his neck. “Sorry, sorry,” he muttered. “Just trying to help is all.”
She’d sighed again, running a tired hand down her face. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…Potions isn’t—look, let’s just finish the lesson.”
He had nodded and continued observing in silence as she added the remaining few ingredients, stirring the cauldron until a pearly sheen developed over the pink bubbling liquid, and finally, ladling a portion out and sealing it in her vial. The smell enveloped her in its warm embrace, and she found herself drawing closer to it — the freedom of a pine breeze, the comfort of leather-bound books, and something smoky, like the Ravenclaw fireplace.
She stiffened, catching a whiff of something else. Was that…musk?
Oh.
Oh.
Not the Ravenclaw fireplace, but rather cologne mixed with the smoldering remnants of a rogue fire spell.
Only one person in her life had an affinity for them.
“You know it’s the most powerful love potion in existence?”
Dragged out of her reverie by Leander’s rude interruption, she bit back a snarl and ladled a small amount into a vial. As if she wouldn’t know what Amortentia was, hadn’t read up on it herself, and understood all of its properties to a T. If only she had been better at brewing.
“I assume that’s why they keep it under lock and key in the Ministry,” she muttered.
“That’s right!” He praised, and she tried not to roll her eyes. “Causes intense infatuation. Can’t really call it love, no one’s managed to brew something as powerful as that yet.”
Leave it to Prewett to leave her feeling more stupid than she already had.
She tilted her head, curious. “Love is considered magic?” It was something she had heard of in Muggle fairytales, but she hadn’t known it was considered textbook knowledge in the Wizarding World.
His eyes lit up at her question, and dread pooled in her stomach as she realized she had triggered the yaps.
“It is! Powerful stuff there, no one really understands it.” She deflated, but he persisted. “Amortentia isn’t like that. Although I suppose you could call it synthetic love. Almost obsessive in nature. That’s why we can only brew it in Sharp’s classroom under strict supervision. There’s even been talk of removing it from the standard Potion’s class and making it NEWTs only, though I suppose with your grades you wouldn’t—”
He pressed his lips together at the look on her face.
“A-anyway,” Leander cleared his throat. “What does yours smell like?”
Elsie’s fingers flexed around her vial. “I—what?”
“Well, that’s the thing about Amortentia. It smells different to everyone.”
She shifted, eyes narrowing. “That’s a bit…personal.”
Sharing information about herself didn’t come easily to her, even in normal circumstances, and explaining her feelings to her forcibly assigned Potion’s partner was not ideal. Out of all of the people who needed to know about what, or rather who, her Amortentia smelled like, Leander was the last of them.
“Mine’s lemon wedges, crushed Dittany, and broom polish.” He leaned forward onto the Potion’s station. “Oh, and Mum’s cooking.”
“Broom polish?” Interesting. “Wait…lemon wedges?”
“I may not be a good flier myself, but I do love a good Quidditch match. As for the lemons," He reached into his pocket and pulled out a full-sized lemon. Elsie stared at it, unblinking. "Eating them in treacle tarts is nice and all, but there's something about a plain lemon that hits the spot. It reminds me of Quidditch season. I'd bring a whole bag of wedges to snack on."
She scrunched her nose — yet another topic they didn’t have in common. If Leander went on a tangent describing every Quidditch position and play, she was certain class would never end.
That, and his strange obsession with lemons.
She watched in horror as he brought the unsliced lemon to his mouth and took a large bite.
Dear sweet Merlin, please save me from this hell.
Her prayers were answered when her savior, Professor Sharp, finally, finally made it to their station to review their potion. She had never been more excited to see his displeased expression as he approached.
"Mr. Prewett, no eating in the potion-mixing room." He clasped his hands behind his back and addressed her. “Miss Corvin, I trust Mr. Prewett here has been able to help you brew an Amortentia that is up to standard?”
“Right here, Sir,” she said, handing him the small vial of the shimmering potion. “All complete, all up to standard, no more mishaps.”
“Good.” He turned it around in between his fingers. “And I trust you’ve both already completed your writings about its properties and distinct scent?”
As she opened her mouth to respond, Prewett interrupted. “I tried, Professor, but she told me hers was too personal.”
Sharp’s frown deepened, more than usual, and she shot Leander a scowl from the corner of her eye. “Personal matters are irrelevant to Potion’s assignments, Miss Corvin. I can assure you, your NEWTs are not going to take your feelings into account.” He clicked his tongue and turned away. “You are dismissed when you have completed the assignment.”
Sighing, she whipped out her quill and scribbled pine, leather, fire, musk onto the parchment, grinding her teeth at Leander’s hum of approval above her. Her lip curled as he breathed in her space, the overwhelming scent of lemons causing her stomach to curdle. Please, please don’t…
“That makes sense. Sallow does love his fire spells.”
Her head snapped up, bile rising to her throat.
Lemon-breath did not just say that.
“What?”
“Your Amortentia?” His brows creased with confusion. “I thought you two were—”
“Friends!” Elsie scrambled to gather her items and shoved them into her bag, desperate to get as far away from the classroom and the horrid scent of lemons. She wouldn’t survive if Prewett, of all people, went around telling the entire school about her feelings about Sebastian she hadn’t even sorted out in her own mind just yet. Wasn’t he in the same house as Cressida Blume, the world’s biggest gossip?
Oh Merlin.
Everyone would know before lunchtime.
Prewett straightened, fearful. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to—!”
“That’s none of your business, do you understand?” She hissed, pointing an accusing finger at him. “This conversation ends now. If you breathe a word—”
“I-I won’t!” He swallowed. “Godric’s heart, the last thing I want is to anger the Hero of Hogwarts.”
“Don’t call me that!” She shouted behind her. “And for the love of — eat a breath mint!”
Storming out of the classroom in a huff, she left Leander to turn in the remainder of their Potion’s assignment while grumbling a prayer that he wouldn’t tell a single soul of what she smelled in her Amortentia.
Especially not Sebastian.
