Drarry One Shots

The Courting

Hogwarts, late 6th year
Important Notes: Amortentia is a love potion. It is the most powerful love potion in existence and smells different to each person according to what attracts them. Malfoy was not assigned Voldemort's mission. Also, Draco and Harry's relationship isn't as...volatile or aggressive as it is canonically. 

Enjoy!

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Slughorn wouldn't let him hear the end of this. Did it matter that Dumbledore had requested a meeting with him? Did it matter that he missed all of lunch for it? Did it matter that he was looking at memories involving Voldemort's childhood?

No. Of course it wouldn't. Because Slughorn wasn't allowed to know these things. No one was. Harry hoped the potion they were starting wouldn't be difficult to catch up on. Maybe Slughorn would let him off easy?

I should have asked Dumbledore for a pass. 

Harry halted at the potions door. It smelled like it was absolutely drenched in Malfoy's silly cologne he'd been wearing for two years. Bracing himself for some kind of explosion, he opened the door. 

No Malfoy splatter, no shattered glass, no liquid on the floor. Just bubbling cauldrons and sweaty students. Malfoy wasn't even by the door. Harry frowned to himself, almost not noticing Slughorn walking up to him. 

"Harry M'boy! It's not like you to be so late," Slughorn admonished. Harry cringed. 

"I'm sorry Professor, Headmaster-"

Slughorn held up a hand. "If the Headmaster is involved, I don't need to know anything else. Go find somewhere to sit, alrighty? I won't dock points for your absence so far, but I expect you to pick up your fair share of work with your partner for the rest of class!" 

"Yes sir," Harry said, nodding and shouldering his bag. He saw Hermione waving from the back. Thanking Merlin, he plopped down next to her. "Why're you alone?" Harry asked quietly, taking out his textbook and helping her as she directed him. 

"Slughorn assigned partners; since you were missing, we had an odd amount. I volunteered to work alone," Hermione said briskly, not looking at him as she stirred. 

"Of course you would," Harry laughed. A pain flared in his side, but when he looked at Hermione she hadn't moved. A small smile curved the corners of her lips. Harry shook his head and snorted at her. "Say, how can you work like this?" 

Hermione didn't pause. "What do you mean this time, the robes or the hair?" She asked. Harry shook his head. 

"I mean the smell." Hermione snorted a little. 

"Three bloomshed leaves. Minced." 

"I'm serious 'Mione!" Harry exclaimed. Then quieter, so no one would hear him. "It smells like Malfoy drenched the room in that stupid cologne he wears all the time." 

Hermione froze, but only for a second since she was mid-stir. This time she looked at him, an incredulous look on her face. "What?" 

Harry flinched back. "What do you mean what?" 

Hermione stared at him, and for a long moment the only thing that moved was her arm on the stirring stick, perfectly rhythmic. Hermione is Hermione no matter what, Harry thought to himself. Then in a moment, she slapped a hand to her forehead. Harry almost dropped the knife he had been loosely holding. Hermione's hand never stuttered. 

"It makes so much sense now!" She exclaimed. Harry looked around them, panicking. 

"Quiet down!" He shushed her. "What makes sense?"