Hai! Thanks for the reviews and stuff :)

Here's the second part! Hope you like it as much as the first.

Parchment, Grass and Peppermint Toothpaste

Three very distinctive smells. Six moments. One potion. Hermione Granger reflects on the things she smells in the Amortentia.


[One-Parchment Paper]
April 2003

Hermione Granger jumps, startled, when she feels a pair of strong, warm arms circle around her waist as she stands in front of the kitchen sink. A small squeal escapes her throat, drawing a chuckle from the body behind her. She swats his arm, playfully. "You're awful," she complains.

"It's just so amusing," her boyfriend murmurs, peppering kisses across her shoulder and neck.

She giggles, shifting in his arms as she turns around to face him. Her arms immediately wrap around his neck, pulling him down to kiss him. "How was work?" she asks softly when she pulls back.

He groans, shaking his head as he leans in to kiss her again. "Work was work," he mutters. "But let's not talk about work. I can think of something much more interesting to do." he grins mischievously.

She laughs, rolling her eyes. "I'm doing the dishes."

"Yeah. That's what I meant. What'd you think I meant?" he asks, smirking when she gaps at him. "Mind out of the gutter, Luv."

She shakes her head as he grabs the towel off the counter and begins to dry the dishes she's already washed and set aside. By hand. She smiles to herself as she joins him, resuming her previous washing.
They're both silent. She washes and he dries and neither of them speaks. He looks at her and she looks back. He smirks and she smiles, blushing as she looks away. She feels like she's 18 again, falling for him for the first time.

And then he's kissing her and she's kissing back. Her wet, soapy hands are in his hair and he drops the towel on the floor as his arms curl around her waist, pulling her against him.

He smells like a beautiful mixture of the cologne she bought him for Valentine's Day and parchment paper-he's been doing paperwork all day, trying to settle a deal with another company at work. Somehow it's the parchment paper that's distinctly himand not the cologne, because the cologne changes. The parchment paper doesn't.


September 1991

She watches him from across the library. He's a mystery. A puzzle. An enigma, you could say. For she can't figure him out. She's figured everyone else out-Harry, Ronald, Neville, even Parkinson. But not Malfoy.

One minute he can be a right prick-mostly towards Harry and Ron, and the next he can be just as quiet as her. He's loud and rowdy and proud (too proud), he thinks he's the best at everything and he thinks that nobody can touch him because his father is wealthy and powerful. But then there's a softer side to him-at least, that what it seems like. Because when he's alone, he's quiet. When he's in the library he isn't rowdy or disrespectful. He sits at his desk and he does his work.

It's just as he is now, surrounded by parchment paper and textbooks. She watches him run his hands over his slicked back hair, cursing under his breath in frustration. He's working on the new Transfiguration homework, which she's already finished.

She frowns as he growls, crumpling a piece of parchment paper and tossing it a number of other parchment balls. She shakes her head, pushing herself to her feet before walking across to his table.

"Want some help?" she asks softly, tilting her head to the side as she waits for a response.

He looks at her, and then back down at his books. "No."

"I've already finished, so I can give you a hand-"

"I don't need your help, Granger," he snaps.

She blinks, frowning as she shifts awkwardly on her feet. "Okay, well...good luck then." She turns to walk away and the pauses mid-step and turns back. "You'll find everything you need in Chapter 7," she tells him, before turning again and walking back towards her own desk.


[Two-Freshly Mown Grass]
August 2003

It's Sunday. Everyone, the Weasley's (Harry, Hermione and her boyfriend included) are spending the day at the Burrow for their monthly dinner.

It's also a day of friendly competition between ex-rivals in the form of a Quidditch game played in the field.

It's hot out, almost unusually so what with the sun beating down strongly on the open field. There isn't a cloud in sight. Every male, except for Arthur Weasley, and including Ginny, is participating in this game.
Hermione watches the game from the porch, sitting on a patio chair with a glass of lemonade in one hand and her newest novel in the other. Her boyfriend's blond hair shines in the sunlight and blows about in the wind. His t-shirt is sticking to his torso, partly due to the sweat building on his body and also to the wind. He isn't big by any means, but his arms are toned under the sleeves of his t-shirt. He's playing seeker along-side Harry; "lifetime Quidditch rivals", they call one another.

The game is neck-in-neck, as it often is, and everyone looks exhausted as they continue to play. Ron yells up to Harry to "hurry up and find the damn snitch." Harry yells back that it's "a little difficult with the sun being so strong."

In the meantime, she notices, her boyfriend has spotted (what she assumes to be) the snitch, for her takes off in a nose-dive towards the ground. She sits forward, placing both her book and her lemonade on the table beside her, watching with anticipation. At the very last minute he pulls the broom up, gliding mere inches above the freshly mowed grass. He reaches his hand out, his arm firm and his concentration firmer.

And then three things happen. One: he closes his hand around something-most likely the snitch. Two: he somehow loses control of his broom and goes flying off the end, rolling and tumbling in the grassy field. Three: Hermione sprints towards him as everyone else touches the ground carefully.

She drops to her knees beside him, rolling him over onto his back carefully. His eyes are closed, his body still. "Draco? Hey, baby, are you okay?"

He groans suddenly, his eyes squinting in the glaring sun as he tried to open them. "Just peachy," he mutters sarcastically as he pushes himself into a sitting position.

Everyone has gathered around them now, his team mates congratulating-and thanking him-before going back to the house. Harry smirks, clapping him on the back, even as the blond winces. "What was that you said earlier about never losing control of your broom?" he teases.

"I don't see you holding a snitch, do I, Potter?"

Harry glares at him, clapping him on the back before he and Ron head back to the house as well.

"C'mon, let's get you cleaned up and healed before dinner," Hermions says softly, extending her hand to help him up.

He shakes his head, slipping his arm around her waist before laying back in the grass and pulling her with him. "Lay with me a bit," he murmurs, kissing the top of her head as he pulls her against his side.

"You're sweaty," she complains half-heartedly. He chuckles in response as she snuggles into his side, picking at the tiny blades of grass that have stuck themselves to his shirt.

And despite the fact that he is, indeed, sticky and sweaty, the only thing she smells is freshly mown grass.


May 1994

Hermione finds herself wandering the land around the castle on day, completely out of nowhere. After yet another fight with Ron and Harry the previous night, she'd spent two hours crying on the staircase before she decided the head back to the common room. Even then, she'd hardly slept, and so she decided to get up early. She went to the kitchens to eat breakfast with the house elves before going outside to enjoy the warm weather and dewy smell that only the morning brings.

She winds up at the Quidditch pitch. And yet despite the fact that it's early morning and nearly everybody else is still asleep, she isn't alone. For Draco Malfoy is also on the pitch.

She decides to ignore his presence and wander around the field, walking through the dew and the freshly mown blades of grass. And for a while, he decides to ignore her. Until, it seems, she decides to leave.


She groans inwardly, turning around to face the voice. He's walking towards her, his broom in one hand and a snitch in the other. "What, Malfoy?"

"What are you doing here?"

"I was just taking a walk, Malfoy. No need to get your knickers in a twist." She turns to leave, being stopped once more by his voice.

"Weasley's an idiot Granger. He's hardly worth it."

She turns to look at him, and suddenly he's standing right in front of her. Too close. She can smell the air and the grass on him. She raises her eyebrows. "Didn't know you cared."

He smirks, rolling his eyes. "I don't care, Granger. I'm merely stating a perfectly well-known fact: the Weasel is an idiot."

And although his voice is snarky and mean, somehow she thinks he's giving her a compliment.


[Three-Peppermint Toothpaste]
October 2003

The first thing she hears when she enters the flat she shares with her boyfriend is...absolutely nothing. Everything is quiet, except for the soft humming of the tv and the ticking of the clock on the wall. She slips her shoes off quietly, peels her jacket off to hang it on the coat rack and places her purse on the table next to the rack. She tip toes through the dark flat then, down the hallway to their bedroom. The door is open and the lights are off and her boyfriend looks like he's fast asleep in the bed. She smiles softly, changing into her pj's quickly and quietly before pulling the covers back and crawling into the bed.

He's lying on his side, facing the middle of the bed with his right arm tucked under his pillow. She moves her body close to his, mirroring his position with her left arm tucked under her own pillow. She lifts her right arm up slight, running her fingers through his platinum blond hair.

He stirs, humming as his eyes flutter open. He smiles when he sees her. "Hi," he whispers, reaching his right arm around her waist and pulling her flush against him.

"Hi," she whispers back softly. His breath is hot on her face, and smells like peppermint toothpaste.

He kisses the tip of her nose before pressing his forehead against hers. "You're late."

"I know. Dinner ran extremely late," she replies softly.

"Obviously," he murmurs, nuzzling her nose with his.

She giggles, kissing him on the lips lovingly. He deepens it, moving the hand around her waist up to cup her face. She can taste the freshness of his toothpaste.

"I love you," he whispers against her mouth.

"I love you too," she whispers back. "Now go to sleep."

"I wasasleep," he teases.

"Please," she scoffs playfully. "You can't sleep properly without me."

He smirks, chuckling softly as she shifts and turns around so that her back is against his chest. He tightens his grip around her waist, pulling her flush against him and birthing his face into the back of her neck.


December 1998

They've been sharing a common room for the last three and half months now on account of the fact that they're Head Boy and Girl now. And up until recently, they've barely had any sort of contact. Lately, however, they've been greeting each other in the mornings before breakfast and at night before bed.

This morning is no different.

Dressed in last night's pjs, Hermione shuffles down the hallway from her bedroom to the bathroom she shares with Malfoy. The door is open and so she walks in, not expecting him to be there-

-but he is. He's standing at the sink, his back to her, as he brushes his teeth.

She pauses in the doorway, mid-step, with her hand halfway through her hair. She looks him up and down, silently.

He's green plaid pyjama pants, settled low on his hips, and a plain white long-sleeved shirt. The shirt is thin enough to still show off the Quidditch-sculpted muscles underneath. His hair is disheveled, like he's just rolled out of bed. And his reflection in the mirror looks tired.

He's been different lately, since returning to school. Quiet. He sticks to walking along the walls in the corridors rather than down the middle like he used to. He sits in the back of all of their classes, shrinking into the shadows.

Out of sight, out of mind.

"See something you like, Granger?"

His voice pulls her out of her head, and only then does she realize that she's been staring. He's looking at her through the mirror. She blinks, clearing her throat. "Um, I was just-I didn't realize you were-"

"I'm almost done," he replies through a mouth full of toothpaste. Peppermint, she realizes.

"No rush," she tells him, shrugging casually.

He smirks, pausing to spit the toothpaste out of his mouth before rinsing. Then he washes his face before patting it dry and turning to face her. He walks towards her-except not really towards her, just towards her direction. He stops next to her, staring at her.

She stares back, her breath caught in her throat. She can smell the toothpaste on his breath; it makes her dizzy.

"All yours," he murmurs, his lips neck to her ear.

"Thanks," she chokes out, making him smirk and chuckle before he slips past her.


September 1996

She's the first to raise her hand when Professor Slughorn asks the class what the potion is in the vial. It's Amortentia, she tells him. And even as her brain gets fuzzy and her grows numb, she explains what the potion is and what it does. She can herself being drawn into it, towards her. She steps closer and closer and suddenly she's telling the class what she smells. The three scents which attract her the most.

Parchment paper.
Freshly mown grass.
Peppermint toothpaste.