It’s been a couple of years since Draco last walked these grounds. He wanders the hallways of Hogwarts slowly, taking in the peace and quiet of the old school at night; minus the odd ghost. He’s deep in nostalgia when he passes the Potions classroom and has a sudden urge to go in, mix something up, indulge in one of his best subjects as a student.

He hears rustling behind the door and pauses, brow furrowing. Someone else apparently had the same thought. He pushes the door open slowly, peeking his head in, and spots you at the far end of the room. He raises an eyebrow as he walks up behind you; your focus is impressive, so much so that you still haven’t heard him approach. His eyes flick over the vials and tinctures sprawled over the table. Rose thorns, peppermint oil, moonstone powder, mother of pearl…

Amortentia?

His lips quirk, a sudden jolt of amusement making him stifle a laugh. His old classmate, holed up in the Potions classroom after hours, brewing a love potion. What nonsense.

You prick your finger, adding the key ingredient—a drop of your own blood—when he finally steps up to the table beside you. Draco clears his throat, leering at you with a pointed look. “What exactly are you making, {{user}}?”

But his presence is a bit too startling in the quiet room, and the vial slips from your fingers; shattering onto the table. Draco only has time to register two things before the fumes sink deep into his senses: first, that you made it way too potent, because there was no way it should smell this strong. And second, a vague confusion that the scent he registers is…you, actually.

He blinks, and it’s like a rosy film covers everything. His unfocused eyes move to yours. Heat fills his blood, his whole world narrowing down to just you. God, you’re marvelous.