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“And there you go, that’s how the most powerful—and dangerous—potion in this room is made,” Professor Coran flourished, looking back up at the students as a spiraling mist rose from the glistening, mother-of-pearl iridescence of the liquid. "Of course, you won’t be making this just yet—after the N.E.W.T.s, though, you’ll be able to make this in a snap!” He twirled one edge of his mustache, lapsing into thought for a moment. “However, Amortentia requires special care; as it is so potent, you wouldn’t want it sloshing about! Never underestimate the power of obsessions. Now, why don’t we …” Lance’s attention wandered from Coran’s lecture as he walked from the Amortentia and to the chalkboard; Lance instead stared at the potion, curious. The scratch of quills on parchment faded into the background.
“You smelling tonight’s dinner over there?” Pidge grinned, looking up from her scrawling notes. She sat across the table from Lance, Slytherin robes somewhat rumpled, tie loosened, with a mark of dirt on her face, having come from Herbology with Hunk.
“You asking me or Hunk?” Lance retorted easily. Hunk looked up from his notes, his Hufflepuff robes also somewhat disheveled, with traces of soil left on the fabric.
“Hopefully you—I don’t want dinner to smell like a greenhouse,” he supplied. The three shared a short laugh, before both Pidge and Hunk returned to writing Professor Coran’s notes down. Lance jotted down the pages from Advanced Potion-Making Coran had them looking at, so he could study on his own later, and then his attention drifted once more.
How could Hunk sum up what he smelled within just ‘greenhouse?’ Taking a deep breath, Lance could lose himself in the smell like a cold morning breeze, sharp and frosty and clean, then folded around the earthy, woody smell of his broomstick, and held together by the warmth of leather, worn and familiar and—
Wait.
Lance coughed, ears burning as realization struck him, earning concerned looks from Hunk and annoyed glances from most of the rest of the students. At first, Lance tried holding his breath, to keep from inhaling any more of the traitorous potion. Failing that, he turned his back to the Amortentia, staring intently at Professor Coran and the notes on the chalkboard, one of Lance’s legs bouncing furiously. Class could not pass fast enough.
Eventually, however, Lance was released from this vindictive prison within which the universe had placed him. “Have a nice day, kiddos,” Coran offered as students milled from the classroom. “Don’t forget to review your notes before next class; I’m expecting you to be able to explain to me how the Draught of Living Death’s ingredients work together theoretically, and then we’ll all attempt to recreate those expected results! You’ll need your textbook!”
Lance gathered all his supplies in one arm and dodged Coran on the way out the door, offering little more than a “See you, Professor!” over his shoulder as he hurried from the room. He hardly made it to the first staircase before Hunk and Pidge caught up with him.
“What was that about?” Pidge asked. “You’re acting even stranger than usual.”
“What? No, I’m not. It’s nothing. There’s nothing. I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lance insisted, rushed and unconvincing. “I just wanted to get out of there, that’s all.”
"You love Coran's class, though; why want to leave so quickly?” she pushed.
“I don’t want to be late for dinner,” Lance answered, eyes fixed on the stairs as he hurried up them.
“Dinner isn’t for another hour,” Hunk supplied, rather unhelpfully. “What’s going on?”
“It’s nothing. It’s just—you know, it’s fine. Nothing important.” Lance shook his head. “Everything’s fine.”
“Lance, that’s as convincing as fortune-tellings from Divination’s tea leaves,” Pidge replied. “Why don’t you tell us what’s going on?”
“Keith! Of all people, it had to be Keith!” Lance gesticulated wildly with one hand, walking to the Hufflepuff common area. “I don’t understand this!”
“I’ve got this,” Hunk said to Pidge, following Lance. “What about Keith?”
“I don’t understand the universe anymore.”
“You said that yesterday, when the school was messing with your phone again,” Hunk pointed out.
“Okay, but that sort of made sense; magic and technology don’t like each other. In a similar way, Keith and I don’t really like each other either. And, yet, here we are!”
“Where’s here?”
“Running away from my problems.”
“Which are?”
Lance held up a finger to Hunk. “Keith.” He lifted another finger. “Kogane.” The two walked through the Hufflepuff common area and into their shared dorm. Blue, a silver tabby, waited at the door, winding her way around Lance’s legs as he walked in. Yellow, Hunk’s Barn Owl, made a soft screech in greeting. Unceremoniously, Lance dumped both his books and himself onto his bed.
“Keith isn’t that bad; I’m not sure why you insist on this rivalry with him.”
“He thinks he’s better than the rest of us at everything, and I would rather curl up here and sleep for eternity than go to dinner and see his face and his stupid leather jacket and his awful sense of hair styling.”
“Okay, but what’s different about today? You’ve seen him multiple times at dinner before?”
“Well, before I hadn’t smelled his stupid jacket in a love potion, so.” Lance flopped his hands over his face. “Crap.”