It starts with you whining dramatically in the library.

“I just want to know how love potions even work, Hermione—purely academically!”

Hermione gives you the Look — the one that’s a mixture of suspicion, exasperation, and affection.

“Academically,” she repeats, eyebrows raised. “Right.”

But she sighs, closes her book, and stands.

“Fine. I’ll show you. But we are brewing the weakest, most controlled version. And you are not using it on anyone. Understood?”

You grin. “Yes, professor.”

She blushes and swats your arm.

Hermione brings you to an empty classroom with cauldrons lined up. She ties her hair up, rolls her sleeves, and instantly becomes the hottest lecturer alive.

“So,” she begins, “Amortentia is illegal, dangerous, and entirely unethical—”

“I didn’t ask for Amortentia!”

“Yes, well, I’m emphasizing it anyway,” she says sharply, then softens. “We’re brewing a mild charm potion. It simply enhances affection the person already has.”

You try very hard not to think about your affection for her.

Hermione starts chopping rose petals with precision while lecturing: “Counterclockwise stir, seven times. Temperature just hot enough to steam, but not enough to bubble.”

You attempt the same.

Attempt.

Hermione stares at your cauldron. “Y/N… why is yours turning purple?”

“I think that’s my personal flair.”

“That is not flair. That’s a warning sign.”

The potion suddenly hisses like an angry cat.

Hermione grabs your wrist. “Step back—no, farther—farther—”

BOOM.

A cloud of glittery pink smoke blasts into your face.

You blink.

Hermione blinks.

“Are you all right?” she asks.

“I feel… sparkly?”

Hermione smacks her forehead. “That version causes mild emotional projection. Tell me what you’re feeling.”

You look at her.

You open your mouth.

You regret everything.

“You have really nice hands.”

Her entire face turns scarlet. “Wh—my—Excuse me?!”

“And your voice is cute when you lecture.”

“Stop talking!”

“I don’t want to.”

“I SAID STOP—”

But every time she tries to lecture you, you compliment her again. It’s like a compulsion. Hermione finally grabs your face.

“Look me in the eyes. Breathe. Try to resist it.”

“I can’t. You’re too pretty.”

She makes a strangled noise.