Through The Years (Ron and Hermione Short Stories)

That Third Smell

Takes place during the sixth book, pages 183 to 186, from Ron's point of view. All the dialogue is from the book, obviously. 

Ron walked hesitantly into the unusually comfortable looking dungeon. It was warmly lit and he felt much more at ease than he ever had before in the Potions classroom. He sat down on the nearest wooden bench, Hermione plopped down on his left with her usual twenty pound load of books and Harry positioned himself opposite Hermione.

All of a sudden, an overpowering scent hit Ron. It was like nothing he had every inhaled before. It seemed to be coming from the golden cauldron stationed nearest to their table.

The scent wafted toward them in thick, spiral-like vapors, engulfing all of Ron's senses in heavenly ecstasy. He inhaled deeply; desperately drinking in the vapor like a thirsty man would water. The fumes were so intoxicating that Ron had a hard time focusing on Harry, who gave him a wide, lazy grin. Ron ginned back blissfully.

Then slowly, very slowly, as if walking through honey, Ron began to distinguish the different, all equally wonderful smells, emitting from that fantastic potion.

The first smell was not one individual scent but a mixture of scents. Ron could smell each one on its own, but also when they joined. It smelled like all the banquets in the Great Hall mixed together as one. He could smell twenty different kinds of meat, all of them cooked just the way he liked them. Some were slathered in gravy, or seasoned with spices. There were lushes fruit dishes, fresh salads, crisp loaves of breads, extravagant platters of all kinds of pastries, bars of cool ice cream, and chocolate cakes piled high with whipped cream. Ron could literally taste each and every different food as if it were really in his mouth.

He resurfaced briefly at the sound of Hermione's voice, which seemed as if it were coming from a long way off, "It's Veritaserum, a colorless, odorless potion that forces the drinker to tell the truth."

"Very good, very good!" said Slughorn, sounding pleased. "Now, this one here is pretty well known..." He gestured toward another cauldron, but Ron had already begun to slip back into his dream-like state.

The second scent was harder to distinguish. It was more of an elaborate mixture of different smells and feelings all working to create a picture. There was the cool, damp, grassy smell of the backyard at the Burrow accompanied by the woody smell of their large picnic table which they often ate at on warm summer days. Ron could smell the food his mother had cooked up for their dinner. Her famous Weasley Stew, crispy loaves of bread, a mountain of mash potatoes, cold pictures of pumpkin juice and many other dishes.

Ron could then detect the unpleasant scent of dragon dung, burnt wood, and smoke, the image of Charlie was seen clearly in his mind. The scents of something metallic, rock, and mildew, represented Bill, followed by Percy who smelled of parchment and for some reason lilacs, and Fred and George each smelling of firework smoke and many different kinds of potions that Ron couldn't distinguish. Last of all was Ginny, who was scented with wild wind, and fresh flowers covered in morning dew. It felt as if his mum and dad were right behind him for he could smell his mum's rose petal perfume and his dad who smelled of chocolate and London smog.

All of these blended together giving Ron an immense feeling of safety and warmth that reached all the way to his finger tips. If Voldomort himself had been in the room with him, he would have still felt incredibly safe.

Then, from a long way off, came the voice of Hermione answering a question as always, "It's Amortentia. It's the most powerful love potion in the world!"

Ron smiled and then devoted himself to figuring out the third and final scent. He furrowed his brow in concentration, this scent―although none the less enticing―was much harder to figure out then the last two had been. There was the smell of fresh parchment, the tangy smell of ink, and the homework-like smell of books. There was also the sharp yet sweet smell of mint and the faded, almost undetectable smell of flowers. It was so familiar yet he couldn't put a finger on what or who it was. He was again interrupted by the sound of Hermione's voice.

"And it's supposed to smell differently to each of us, according to what attracts us, and I can smell freshly mown grass and new parchment and..." Hermione stopped, embarrassed, and sat down. Ron noticed she was blushing. Slughorn, however, took no notice of this and continued to drone on, asking Hermione questions. Ron simply blocked out what he was saying. When Hermione had sat down, a strand of her bushy hair drew extremely close to his face and he couldn't help noticing that it smelled faintly of mint.

"Did you really tell him I'm the best in the year? Oh, Harry!" Hermione beamed at Harry, looking highly pleased.

"You are the best in the year, I'd have told him so if he'd asked me!" Ron didn't know what made him say that. Was it, jealousy? No, it couldn't be. He turned toward Slughorn and tried to focus, when he felt someone grab his hand under the table and give it a quick squeeze before releasing it.

Ron looked at Hermione who gave him a small smile before turning her attention back to Slughorn. The vapor from the cauldron engulfed him once again and suddenly he knew, without a doubt, what the third smell was.