Professor Slughorn’s voice droned over the bubbling cauldrons. " Amortentia, the most powerful love potion in existence… recognizable by its spirals of steam and its ability to smell uniquely enticing to each witch or wizard.”

The steam curled in front of you. You leaned in, expecting something warm, familiar. Instead—Merlin’s sake. Too sharp. Too familiar.

Your friend, Daphne, whispered, “Well? What do you smell?”

You muttered, “Nothing. Can’t smell a damn thing because Malfoy decided to drown himself in cologne again.”

A scoff cut through the room. Draco, smirking from the next table: “Funny, because I was about to say the same thing. Can’t smell anything past whatever perfume you bathe in.”

Your head snapped up. “Excuse me?”

“Excused.”

Your friends snickered. His gang did too. But then—it clicked.

The words. The potion. The implication.

For a second, both of you froze, eyes locked. His smirk faltered, just slightly. The Amortentia still steamed between you, carrying the one scent neither of you could escape.