Sensorial (Dramione)

Chapter 2. Potions

"Gather 'round, everyone!"

Hermione fell into place beside some of her fellow Lions as she scurried to reach the front of the small crowd of sixth years who had been permitted to study Potions this year.

Professor Slughorn had taken some time to babble about the art of potion making, his appreciation for passionate students and to reiterate classroom etiquette. Hermione was sure he had also attempted to give the students somewhat of a pep-talk regarding the situation they had found themselves in, but it was all meaningless, really, so she zoned out instantly. She had met Slughorn on the journey to Hogwarts and while her need to be loved by her Professors was as prominent as ever, she couldn't help but feel a little put off by his 'reassurance'. Slughorn didn't know them; he hadn't been present in their lives for the last five years, so, in Hermione's opinion his words were empty. She didn't doubt his sincerity, of course, but there's a certain discomfort that comes with hearing people you hardly know telling you that things will be fine. Things were far from fine. In fact, 'fine' was quite possibly one of the worst words used to describe anything; it tastes bland on the tongue and, more often than not, people used it as a pathetic attempt to cover up their genuine feelings. Hermione knew that because she had a terrible habit of doing so, too.

"...as I was saying, I brewed some concoctions earlier and have set them out here," he paused to smile awkwardly down at his students and waved his arms a little to raise the sleeves of his robes. "Any idea what they might be?"

Hermione instantly stepped forward, her hands clutching her books close to her chest and her steps a little unsure.

"That one there is veretaserum...it's a truth telling serum. Incredibly strong and forces the drinker to tell the truth."

She scuffled along a little to the next one,

"This is Polyjuice potion, it allows the drinker to take the form of another person. Terribly difficult make."

"And finally," she inhaled deeply, her brows knitting together trying to identify all of the different scents, "This-i–is amortentia. The most powerful love potion in the world. It's rumoured to smell differently to each person according to what attracts them. For example, I smell: Parchment, spearmint and-and apples and musk." Her voice trailed off into a whisper.

"Very good! Miss-..."

"Granger, Sir."

Slughorn racked his memory in search of previous students who might have resembled the young witch in front of him in any way but came to nothing.

"I don't believe I taught your parents at all, did I?"

Hermione quickly shook her head,

"Oh. No, Professor, my parents are muggles." She told him.

Hermione heard a muffled snicker from behind and she sharply turned to see Draco mumbling something to Theo, both of them grinning as they looked at her. Her gaze locked onto Malfoy's and her frown deepened. Prat. He was leaning against the table behind him arrogantly, with one hand shoved into his pocket and the other limp at his side carelessly clutching his book. She scowled.

"-Felix felecis, but it is more commonly referred to as...?"

"Liquid luck." Hermione quickly spoke up.

"Yes, Miss Granger, desperately tricky to make, disastrous should you get it wrong. One sip and you would find that all of your endeavours succeed. At least until the effects wear off." He chortled.

"So, this is what I offer each of you today. One tiny vial of liquid luck to the student who, in the hour that remains, manages to brew an acceptable draught of living death...recipes to which can be found on page 10 of your books."