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This story started out as a prompt on Reddit by u/logicislight and is also posted on fanfiction.net. 

"Harry is doused with a love potion ...and everyone is affected. Even Snape! Harry barely escapes the classroom as the professor begins reciting sonnets about the color of Harry's eyes and comparing his love to flowers. The only exception to the insanity is Hermione, who is used to punching down her feelings and ignoring them.

(We could all use some levity, I think, so please someone write this.) "

Because fighting corona is a trying time for all of us, I decided to write some lighthearted fanfiction for those in need :) Here's Chapter 1, for you guys!

Chapter 1: The broken vial

*CRACK*

That's how it started. Harry wasn't sure who broke the damned vial - probably either Seamus or Neville, as they looked both guilty and horrified as the potion splashed all over his school robes, his hair, his face, and a small stream of potion trickled down his glasses.

'I am so sorry Harry,' Neville said horrified, 'I was trying to levitate the wolfsbane root, but Seamus nudged me in the arm and instead, I levitated a bit of the cupboard and this vial must have slipped and-...'

'It's okay,' Harry grimaced. 'It's fine.'

'15 points from Gryffindor for being an absolute oaf, Longbottom,' Snape snarled from across the classroom. 'Potter, use a drying charm if you need to. I won't allow you to use this accident as an excuse for lousy work.'

Harry scowled, but when he fetched his wand to dry his clothes he noticed that, weirdly enough, he didn't feel wet from the liquid. It was like his skin had absorbed the potion, shining a soft glow over it, and he started to emit an interesting odor.

Then he realized the classroom had become silent. Eerily silent.

He looked to his left to see Lavender and Parvati stare at him with an intensity he had never experienced before. He looked around, to see what they had to be staring at, but was faced with Neville and Seamus, who reciprocated their looks of awe.

'Guys...?' Harry muttered, but then Snape's voice interrupted whatever they wanted to reply.

'Eyes as green, as a freshly mowed lawn.'

Harry blinked a few times and shifted his eyes.

'I... I beg your pardon, professor?'

From the other corner of the dungeon, his words had sounded soft and muffled, but Snape cleared his throat and spoke again, a lot louder this time.

'Eyes as green, as a freshly mowed lawn,
Sparks in it as bright as raindrops at dawn,|
Smelling of lilies, of flowers divine,
Please dear Mr. Potter, won't you be mine?'

Harry's jaw dropped. He tried to hold back a laugh, thinking his potion master had gone insane, and turned to his side for the first time, to look at Ron and Hermione. Hermione looked just as dumbstruck as he did, but Ron's eyes were glazed over and his mouth was crooked in a wide smile.

'Don't listen to him, Harry,' he whispered. 'You don't smell like lilies. You smell like pinewood and cinnamon. And your lips look perfectly kissable.'

Ron leaned into him and Harry froze, when he realized he didn't have an extremely unusual daydream and that this was, in fact happening. Before their lips met, he managed to place his hand on Ron's chest, stopping him from moving in further.

'I-... Thank you, Ron, that is very flattering, but-...'

'Why would Harry choose you?' Lavender screeched. 'He should be with me!'

'No, with me!' Neville screamed.

'If anyone, it should be me, his potion's master!' Snape's low voice boomed.

'If he won't be with me, my father will hear about this!' A certain blonde Slytherin replied.

A row broke out, everyone arguing who Harry should pick first, and it didn't take long for curses to be flying across the classroom. Harry quickly realized that he had two options: either succumb to the flocks of new potential lovers, or flee. He choose the latter. Within the commotion of flying potion ingredients and stunning jinxes, he took his cloak out of his schoolbag, hid under it and disappeared into the corridor. Running while hiding under the invisibility cloak proved impossible, but it didn't stop him from trying to scurry as fast as he could. He almost reached the end of the dungeons when a harrowing "He's gone!' bellowed from his classroom, and he winced when the crowd of at least two dozen students and a very eccentric Snape, began to chant "Follow the scent!" as they stormed through the door.

He then knew hiding would prove useless, so he stuffed his cloak in the pockets of his school uniform and decided to make a run for it. Where to go? The prefect's bathroom - perfect. Limited access for at least the majority of the students, and a lot of opportunity to cleanse himself from whatever it was that fell on him.

Harry failed to notice that one student remained in the classroom, looking debatably even more frizzled than Harry. It was his bushy-haired, big-hearted, best friend. Hermione.

Chapter Text

Hermione Granger was truly terrified.

This was not natural to the brownhaired girl. Surely she had faced greater and bigger obstacles - fighting a mountain troll, being petrified and standing up to an escapee for mass murder were among them, for example. She had defied odds, stood her ground in hectic times, kept her head cool. Had she sometimes felt nervous? Obviously. Had she been worried about friends, about people she loved? Naturally. But she couldn't remember feeling this scared and flustered by any standards. Maybe because this wasn't caused by some kind of mutual enemy, or maybe because this asked for a different kind of bravery. But Hermione Jean Granger was scared out of her wits - not by a life-threatening event, but by a boy.

The moment the vial broke she had seen the effect it had on the people around her. It had made Lavender drool and pant - but that was not a big thing, as any boy caused her hormones to fire up these days. It had made Neville speak up louder than his usual mumbling, it had made Malfoy infatuated with Harry, it had driven Ron to try and kiss him, it had made Snape recite loving poetry. All things considered, the effects of this potion shouldn't have made her scared, they should have made her laugh. And it did, for the first few seconds, until she realized that she, of all people in the room, didn't feel anything differently. Why? In Merlin's name, why?

She had noticed that Harry had started to emit a very comforting glow, obviously, but that was the only thing that had changed about him. Harry still smelled the same, like Harry - it was a scent that she couldn't quite place, otherwise than knowing it was just him, and that she loved being around that scent. It was familiar, it felt warm and trusted, it reminded her of their friendship, their embraces, and yes, it possibly had smelled a bit stronger than usual, but it hadn't changed. His looks hadn't changed. He still looked like Harry, just Harry, the boy that she had always cared about, the boy that had outgrown his baggy hand-me-downs and obviously, his appetite for Quidditch hadn't hurt his frame, but it was still Harry. The same beautiful green eyes, the same endearing, almost apologetic smile, the same humble but sweet look on his face. She looked at him, puzzled at what all the others saw, and when Harry looked back, she realized that she didn't see any different than the rest, maybe they now all saw the same. And that obviously posed a problem.

She had never talked to Harry about how she felt about him. Last year she had enjoyed their time together, while she helped him prepare for his tasks for the Tournament, and she had felt they had grown closer together. Her feelings had grown inside of her, ever so slightly, and when Harry went into the maze that night, she had decided for herself that maybe, just maybe, she could talk with him after all this was over, and maybe she could tell him how happy he made her feel. That she had really appreciated being around him, that she cared for him, that she wanted to be with him. She didn't know in what way she wanted to be with him, just as a friend, or maybe... Something more? After all, she was a shy teenager. Her confidence had never been that high, to be honest, but Victor's appreciative behavior had made her... More open, about her feelings, about the idea of meaning something more to a person. The kisses she had shared with him had been nice and sweet, but they had also been... Lacking. Not because of Victor's kissing skills, but because she didn't feel them. After a moment she had realized that it probably was because she didn't care for Victor in a way that she cared about other people. She didn't truly love him. She started to wonder who could make her stomach soar during carefully and lovingly placed kisses, as she had always read in some of her novels. Harry was the first person that had popped into her mind.

So, when Harry entered the maze, she decided that afterwards, she would take him aside, and talk things through. She would try to be subtle, as to not break their friendship if Harry didn't reciprocate their feelings. But somewhere, she knew that Harry felt the connection too. He cared for her, deeply, and it was typically Harry to just accept that as a fact and not think anything else of it. He wasn't the most observant boy after all, not even when it affected his own feelings. Still, she would be gentle, as to not disturb him. She would talk to him, that night.

But obviously, she didn't talk to him, because Harry didn't just enter the maze, he went into the graveyard as well. The terror he faced that night was too much to bear for anyone, and she couldn't possibly burden him with her feelings. She hadn't dared to. Instead, she had felt very brave by kissing him on the cheek at the end of the term, and she had hoped that that would have made him think about her a bit differently. That that small kiss would have changed his feelings for her.

It hadn't. After the summer, Harry had been too occupied with The Order, his trial, Sirius, the return of You-Know-Who and the influence of the ministry. She couldn't blame him. On top of that, Harry had started showing interest in Cho Chang, which had made everything a lot more complicated. Hermione had decided to set her feelings aside as well. You-Know-Who had returned and she would take her OWL's this year. She had bigger fish to fry.
But now her feelings had hit her straight in the face again, like a bludger. It hurt. It made her confused. She had done a stellar job by hiding them for the last few months and this stupid potion accident had ruined it.

What to do? Should she act as crazy as Ron or Snape had done, as to not attract attention? Swiftly she decided against it. No. She could try to act like Romilda Vane - she had seen many examples of how to be a love-drunken airhead from her in the last months, but she doubted if she could keep up the facade. Even if she could, Harry had panicked. She could very clearly recall the look of sheer dread in his eyes and when Harry needed help, she would be there for him. He didn't need this nonsense on top of his usual struggles.

First, she needed to find out which potion had spilled all over him, so she could find out how to counter it. By the looks of the number of other potions that had dropped during the fight, that would take some time. After that, she would have to find Harry himself, who would undoubtedly be hiding somewhere right now. She just hoped that he would be able to find a safe place.

Chapter Text

Why did the Prefect's bathroom have to be on the fifth floor?! Harry cursed inwardly, while trying to remain as unseen as he possibly could. He had taken out his cloak again, deciding that it would be the only thing to keep him from getting swarmed. Luckily, most students were still in class, so the few that he did encounter in the corridors didn't see him. They did, however, get gloomy eyed, and the two Hufflepuff girls he had just passed suddenly both confessed to each other how they had always thought Harry Potter was "an incredible stud". It would have made Harry snort, but he decided that the usage of any noise would be very unwise right now.

He tiptoed to the secret staircase that lead to the second floor, pushed aside the large tapestry and was relieved to find no one on it. This had to be one of the most bizarre school days in his life. He had never had any desire to attend Stonewall High School, the school his aunt and uncle had chosen for him to attend if Hagrid wouldn't have given him his Hogwarts acceptance letter, but he surely would have never faced such an insane situation over there. Damn you Neville, Harry thought grimly, damn you and your clumsiness.

Suddenly, a shouting voice came from the first floor. 'I smell Potter!' Shit. A roaring of noise erupted from the first corridor and Harry started to run up the narrow stairs, in hopes of avoiding the crowd. At the bottom of the stairs he caught a glimpse of Malfoy, peering through the tapestries, eyeing the steps like a hawk. No, not Malfoy. He could stand to be kissed by Lavender Brown or Pansy Parkinson or Merlin forbid even Ron, but not Malfoy!

His stress caused him to misremember the order of the steps. He'd walked these stairs some hundred times at least, but because of Malfoy's piercing gaze he promptly forgot about the trick step, halfway through. It was the same step he had fallen through last year, when he had also been on his way to the Prefect's Bathroom. Just at the last moment, he refrained himself from shouting "no", and was able to grip his Invisibility cloak tightly, so it wouldn't come off. God, this was quite possibly the worst time to be stuck in a trick step - he had nowhere to run and the vial's smell (he refused to believe it was actually his) wouldn't be blocked by his cloak. Things didn't look good. Not good at all.

Malfoy's eye grew wide, when he heard Harry's foot fall through the trick step, and he placed his fingers on his lips. 'Is that you, Potter? If so, let's be very silent, so the others won't hear us.'

Harry muttered several not-so dignified swear words under his breath, but decided to stay still anyway. Before he could get rid of Malfoy, he needed to make absolutely sure they were alone.

Malfoy inhaled deeply, like a weird imitation of a blood hound, and the broad smile on his face got even wider.

'That must be you, yes!' he whispered, trying very hard to stay silent, but not being able to contain his excitement to that degree that he would not speak. 'I'd recognize that enticing, godly mix of a burning fire place and fresh rain anywhere... Oh Potter, I've only now come to realize how insanely attractive you are! What a loss, don't you think? All the time we spent fighting, not realizing what we were actually feeling...'

He walked up a few steep steps, reached out with his hand and grabbed a front part of the cloak. Harry flinched as he got unveiled, but managed to produce a thin smile.

'You got me, Malfoy.'

If it had been just Malfoy and only Malfoy this situation would have been hilarious. He looked at his rivals face, brimming with excitement, like he had just found a treasure. A voice in the back of his mind, that sounded a lot like either Fred or George, told him to milk the situation to it's fullest. Another voice, sounding more like Hermione, reminded him that any stalling would mean a higher chance of being exposed to being found caught in a trap by his potion's master. If he had to kiss Snape's greasy nose, he would surely become sick.
After some hesitation, he decided to take a middle route.

'I am so glad you found me, you know,' Harry lied, bemused, mimicking a look that should have been alluring. 'I was actually walking away to be alone with you. I didn't want the others to find out.'

Malfoy's eyes widened and he gasped.

'You mean that, Potter?'

'Absolutely. Now, if you get me out of this trap, we can both find a quiet place to discuss what's to become... of... you know, us.'

If it hadn't been Malfoy, Harry might have felt pity for him. Draco looked so absolutely delighted it kind of made him feel sorry he was about to break the poor boy's heart.

'Of course! Yes, let me help you, my love.'

Oh, for Merlin's sake. Nicknames.

Malfoy was being very careful not to hurt him, as he lifted Harry's leg out of the trap. Although Draco was way too touchy-feely for Harry's comfort, he did manage to grumble a "thank you".

'There is no one here,' Malfoy whispered, with a blush creeping up on his pale face. 'What do you say about thanking me with a kiss instead?'

Malfoy pursed his lips at him and closed his eyes and now Harry really couldn't hold back a laugh because of the ridiculousness of it all. He pretended to lean back in, grabbed his wand and petrified him. Malfoy's body stiffened completely as he fell back - his eyes confused and filled with betrayal. Realizing that Draco tumbling down the stairs would cause an enormous clatter, Harry hurried to get up the stairs, taking three steps at a time. He wasn't quick enough. The sound of Malfoy's falling body had alerted his other classmates and with a roar they started to climb the stairs as well, lead by Snape, for some obscure reason, who couldn't stop chanting his awkward poem. "Eyes as green as a freshly mowed lawn-..."

Harry reached the second floor. What now? Going to the Prefect's bathroom started to look like a worse and worse idea by the minute. He would never reach the fifth floor with a following like that, and even if he did, Snape would surely know the password as well and barge in. If not for Snape, possibly Ron, who was a Prefect, in contrary to him. And toying with Malfoy had been funny, but Harry knew how sensitive Ron could be. He certainly didn't want to make a fool out of him like that, it wouldn't be fair. Their friendship was way too important to him. So where to go?

The girl's bathroom? Myrtle's bathroom was on the second floor, maybe the crazed following wouldn't dare entering if he-... Oh, who was he kidding. They had all gone completely insane, they would probably even follow him into the Chamber of Secrets if he managed to open it before their arrival.

He had no time to think, though. He needed to act now. He had experience with escaping from danger - he had done it the year before. He and Hermione had practiced his summoning charm for weeks on end. He remembered those days spent together a bit more fondly now. At the time, he had been preoccupied with the stupid feud he'd had with Ron, and the very real possibility of being killed by an enormous dragon. But looking back, it had been nice. She had been so patient, and so understanding. She had proven to be a true friend, someone who truly cared for him in a way that he hadn't felt before. And didn't her persistence in teaching him Accio rightly result in him being able to summon the cup, last year? Accio had saved his life. If only he could think as clearly as Hermione usually would...

He suddenly realized that Hermione had been with him in class, and that she had stood right next to him as the content of the vial had splattered all over him. Where was she? If the potion was so strong as to seduce Lavender, Neville, Ron and even Snape, the potion's master himself, how could it be she wasn't stalking him as well? Or was she? He surely would have noticed, and now he suddenly remembered that Hermione's eyes hadn't turned foggy the moment the potion seeped into his skin. That was interesting, and surely something to think about sometime, but not right now.

Harry raised his wand, shouted "Accio Firebolt!" and ran to the nearest window to open it. He should see his broom coming this way, and it would make it possible for him to jump out the window in time to escape the flock of admirers, that were now closing in on him.

'What is all this commotion?' Turning his head, he realized one of the teachers must have gotten wind of all the noise and came to check in on them. Why did I have to go to the second floor, Harry wailed in his head. I know which classrooms are situated there. Why did I have to take these stairs? Why?

In the door frame of the classroom stood his Defense Against the Dark Arts-teacher - her voice sickly sweet, her mouth flat and wide, a bow in her hair like a huge fly. He saw her squinting eyes turn hazy and then he heard her thick, syrupy voice speak in a way he never hoped to hear again in his life.

'Oh, my, Mister Potter!'

Harry didn't usually swear badly, but there was only one word that could describe his feelings right now, and it started with an "F".

AN: I had way too much fun writing this, haha. I hope you enjoyed!

Chapter Text

Hi guys!

I realize that's quite possibly a spoiler in the chapter title, but who cares ;) Thank you all for following my story! I have had some reviews now as well - you are all awesome! I love reading them :)

Here's the next to last chapter. It's quite long, but I'm sure you all won't mind.

Love, Flora

Hermione's search for an antidote had been a lot more fruitful than she could have hoped. Luckily, she remembered which cupboard Neville had levitated, and Snape had been obviously very meticulous in keeping his potions neatly ordered, as he had labeled not only the now broken vials, but the places on the shelves as well. Within 30 minutes Hermione had managed to eliminate a large number of potions names, and remained with two possible options: Amortentia Lenis and Odoratus Amabitur. She had heard of Amortentia, of course - the most powerful love potion in the world. She figured that "lenis" was probably meaning it wasn't as strong as normal Amortentia, as she expected the word "lenient" to be derived from it. By the effects she had seen, she felt very strongly in saying that this potion had not been lenient, nor mild. Odoratus Amabitur, on the other hand, had the word "odor" in it, which of course had to do something with the sense of smell. As she recalled Snape's poem and Ron's comments - she chuckled thinking of the memory - they had all been very odor-based. Furthermore, on the corner of the label, she saw three letters that she had seen on some other potions as well, but not on Amortentia Lenis. The letters spelled HBP. She quickly understood that, while she knew all the non-HBP labeled potions to a certain extent, she had no knowledge of any of the HBP labeled ones. Perhaps those were self-made potions: potions invented by none other than Snape himself? If so, she thought it odd that Snape hadn't labeled the potions "SS", but then again, she never fully grasped the motives of her potions professor.

This did further her search, as she began to roam Snape's desk for more clues. Normally she would have felt very guilty doing so, but as she recalled his behavior, she was sure he would not be ungrateful to no longer be longing after his most hated student. And after all - she had to save Harry. Every second she spent searching for the antidote meant one second more spent in agony for her best friend. She needed to power through.

Eventually she came across one drawer that Snape had sealed off with magic. To her surprise, it opened with a simple "Alohomora". Strange. She figured that it would probably be more securely protected, had Snape not left the classroom in such a hurry. He was not a person to be careless.
Nonetheless, she had what she wanted, and it didn't take her long to find the description for Odoratus Amabitur, as the files in the drawer had been alphabetically ordered.

"Odoratus Amabitur - strong love perfume.

One or two small drops of this perfume will make the nearest bystanders infatuated with the wearer, as they will project their favorite smells onto them. Furthermore, radiance of the skin will enhance attractiveness. Make sure to be in private with target, or awkward situations will ensue. Be very cautious with appliance- do not use more than two small drops at most, as to not further broaden the radius of this brew or enhance it's effects. You know what happened. Do not use on target more than once a month, as sense of smell can be permanently warped and damaged.

Effects of the perfume will wear off in 24 to 48 hours. To end the effects earlier, either kiss the target(s) romantically, or spray yourself with its antidote."

Hermione didn't think the first solution was an actual option, as she tried to envision Harry's distorted face when kissing Snape romantically. No, she thought, shaking her head, definitely not an option, and she was quite certain she had scarred herself for life. She began to browse for ingredients in the various cupboards. It would take her approximately 45 minutes to brew the antidote - a long time, but she did what was needed.

While the antidote was boiling, she rummaged Harry's bag, and felt very lucky finding the Marauders Map. After muttering "I solemnly swear I am up to no good", she straightened out the parchment and scanned for Harry's name. She found him on the second corridor, barred against a wall, quite possible one of the windows. Why on earth would he go there? It was a jarring sight, as Harry's dot closely pressed against a straight line, while an enormous amount of dots - so closely packed together that she wasn't able to make out any names - surrounding his seemed to be slowly closing in on him.

'Come on, Harry,' she heard herself say out loud, wishing the antidote wouldn't take so long to make.

Then, suddenly, Harry's dot made a little jump, and he was on the other side of the line. Had he gone through the wall? Right, no - he must have jumped out of the window! Oh God! Hermione felt nauseous. Did the mob cause him to fall out of it, or did he feel so desperate that... No, she refused to believe that. Right? On the other hand, as she now saw a dot named "Dolores Umbridge" press itself against the window, imagining the old hag was reaching out to him through the glass panels - maybe not. She couldn't think of any person more revolting than that toad. A knot formed in her stomach as she searched for Harry's dot yet again, and when she finally found him, she sighed contently. The dot was rapidly moving past the castle walls, which could only mean that Harry had successfully summoned his broom, just like they had practiced in their fourth year.

She tried to follow the dot, but Harry flew incredibly fast and it was quite a task to keep her eye fixed on the swiftly moving drop of ink. At last she saw him hovering next to the Whomping Willow, and then the dot vanished. She smiled at Harry's quick wit. She doubted even Ron would try to find him there.

Making her way out of the dungeons was easy. She had concealed Harry's bag under her cloak, as to not get any unwanted questions, and thought she would make it to the castle grounds just fine, until she was swooped aside near The Great Hall.

'Where is Harry?!' Lavender asked, accusatory. 'You know where he is! You two are always together!'

'I don't have slightest idea,' Hermione replied, feigning innocence.

'Yes you do! You are lying!'

'Hermione!'

Ron closed in on her, pushing Lavender violently aside as to get to her. The blonde girl scowled and walked off, with a angry looking Parvati at her side. Although she was thankful, Hermione was not all that happy to see Ron. It would be a lot harder to lie to him.

'Have you seen Harry? He suddenly vanished! I checked every place I could think of, but his smell, it's gone, and I can only think about him and where he is and-...'

'It's okay, Ron,' Hermione soothed, with a sympathetic smile on her face. 'He'll return. You know he cares about you.'

'He... He does? In that way?'

Hermione pursed her lips, trying not to laugh.

'I don't know about that, but he does call you his best friend now, doesn't he?'

Ron clearly felt emboldened by the statement and puffed his chest out.

'Yes, you're right. I am his best friend, after all.'

'You are. He'll be back, I'm sure.'

'It's all that toad's fault,' Ron growled. 'She tried to grope him, in plain sight! The woman has no tact. You should have seen the look on Harry's face, he looked positively mortified. I mean, I would too! Can you imagine?'

'I'd rather not,' Hermione shuddered.

'And then she gave us all a month's worth of detention, just for "scaring him off" or something. She even tried to fire Snivellus... I mean, I wouldn't mind that, would you?'

'Yes I would Ron,' Hermione replied matter-of-factly. 'And you should remember not to use that name in earshot of anyone. I do want to receive an Outstanding in my OWL's, and even if Professor Snape is not the most-...'

'Did you hear the poetry he recited to Harry? Did you hear that? He's a slimy git!'

Hermione laughed again, thinking Ron's possessiveness was kind of endearing, but she also knew that she had to get going.

'You know what Ron? Why don't you go back to the Gryffindor common room, and think of a way to properly welcome Harry back and declare your love for him in a way that won't scare him off. I'm sure he'll appreciate that.'

'Do you think he will?'

'Absolutely,' Hermione replied, enjoying mocking her friend just a little bit. 'You know red rose petals are his favorite, right? I believe Professor Sprout grows a bunch of roses in Greenhouse 1, so if-...'

She didn't need to finish her sentence, as Ron sprinted out of her sight before she could close her mouth. Trying to stifle a laugh, she made her way to the Whomping Willow as well.

Luckily, she hadn't been disturbed by any other students or professors as she reached the magical tree. A swift "Immobulus" caused the tree to halt, enabling her to enter the tight passage that would lead to the road she'd traveled with Harry twice in their third year. Thinking back about the events surrounding her time-turner always made her smile, as it had been one of the first times she had allowed herself to admire Harry and not feel guilty about it. I mean, how was she not able to think highly of him, after seeing him conjure that Patronus-charm, saving her, himself and his godfather?

'Harry?'

She entered the dimly lit shack and slowly climbed the stairs. The place still looked as awfully filthy as ever - dust piled on top of dust, broken furniture littering the ground. Not a sound from her friend, though.

'Lumos. Harry? Are you there? It's me, Hermione.'

A very rattled looking Harry peeked through a crack in the bedroom door and he let out a labored sigh.

'Oh thank Merlin, it's you. I thought-... I don't know what I thought.'

He fully opened the door and now Hermione was able to take a good look at him. He had pulled his robes off, revealing a T-shirt and jeans underneath, and had apparently tried to clean himself with some spells, but to no avail. His hair was a mess, his clothes were a mess, his glasses were put on hastily and crookedly, he looked tired and scared, but he was okay. She let out a sigh of relief. He was okay, and with her help, everything was going to go back to normal.

'Wait a minute,' Harry said, looking puzzled. 'Don't you want to... you know... Attack me?'

She chuckled.

'No, I don't. I would never, you know that. I came to help you. I'm glad you left the map in class, so I managed to trace you.'

'Great, you're brilliant, as always, Hermione... I am so glad you're not affected, I have no idea why not, but... I am so, so glad! And I'm so glad you're here and you found me, you can't imagine...'

Hermione felt her chest tighten when Harry enveloped her in a warm and meaningful hug. God, this would be so hard. She couldn't speak her mind now, that was out of the question. She didn't want Harry to think that her words would also be influenced by that darned perfume. Yes, she smelled him too, yes, she saw that he glowed, but he was still Harry. Her best friend. And suddenly she felt guilty for feeling all that. Wasn't she betraying him as well, by not speaking out?

'People have gone absolutely crazy! I mean, not just Snape, but Parvati, and Parkinson and-... Hermione, Umbridge was there! She was teaching the fourth years, and Ginny as well, and Colin Creevey, and they all stormed out of their class...'

'Oh, that sounds awful.'

'It was! I'm doomed! How are we going to stop this?'

'Well, luckily-...' Hermione started, but Harry was too indulged in his own misery to hear her answer. He started pacing back and forth.

'Should I just stay here, for the rest of the term? I guess I could live comfortably here for a while, I mean, I can handle living with the Dursley's for a full summer, or maybe-...'

'Will you stop panicking for a second,' Hermione laughed, slapping his arm. 'I have found a cure.'

'You-... You have? Already?'

Harry stopped his pace and stared at her, at disbelief and completely in awe, and she managed to not concentrate on the very apparent butterflies that were currently attacking her insides.

'My God Hermione, you always manage to amaze me.'

She felt a blush creep up her cheeks, which she hated. It made her feel silly and Hermione Granger was many things, but she was not a silly girl.

'Yes. What fell on you seems to be a concoctions of Snape's own making. He left two possible antidote options for us to try out.'

'Snape's own making? I can't imagine him wearing-... Whatever, that's not really of interest right now. What are those options?'

'Well,' Hermione said, slyly, 'one option would require you to snog anyone affected by the perfume.'

The look on Harry's face made her wheeze.

'Are you kidding me right now?' Harry managed to ask, laughing as well. Hermione figured he probably knew, going by her reaction, that she would never let him go through that ordeal.

'Yes, well. It seems to be one of the options, so I thought, might want to give you that option first. Do you, per chance, fancy kissing-...'

'NO,' Harry said firmly. 'And don't even think about finishing that sentence. Gosh, Hermione! No!'

'I get it. I'm just joking. But it would actually work, according to Snape's files. He calls it "romantic kissing", by the way-...'

'Yeah, we might want to try option 2,' Harry remarked snidely. 'Please, please tell me it's less grueling.'

Figuring she had tortured him long enough, she pulled a new vial out of her bag.

'Here. I made four batches, as the recipe required "spraying" to counteract one or two drops of the perfume. Better safe than sorry, right?'

'You truly, honestly, are the most wonderful person on this planet, and if I ever contradict that statement-...'

'I will gladly remember you about this day. Don't worry, Harry.'

He dumped the first vial on his head completely, making sure to cover every corner of his face, and Hermione helped him scrub the remaining batches unto his skin. For the last vial, he asked shyly if Hermione wanted to give him some privacy, which she gladly granted. Outside the bedroom door, she asked herself if she would dare to say anything, but she couldn't bring herself to it. It was too complicated right now. Harry had reacted amicably to her, of course, but that was always the case. They were friends, right? That's how friends acted. They helped. They didn't pry, they didn't press and they certainly didn't... Make things even more difficult. Harry had been harassed by possibly fifty students and at least two teachers - enough was enough. Now was not the moment. So, when Harry emerged from the bedroom, looking all clean and a lot less glowy, she gave him a bittersweet smile.

'How do I look?'

'Like Harry. Just Harry.'

'And... That's a good thing, right?'

She bit her lip.

'Of course it is.'

He returned the smile, and brought her in for another hug. She allowed herself to put her arms around his neck. The smell was not as strong anymore, but it was still there. Lovely, warm, comforting Harry. Her friend, her... So much more. Why did this have to be so difficult?

'Thank you, Hermione. Truly. If it weren't for you...'

'The effect would have worn off in 48 hours,' she heard herself say. 'You would have been fine, eventually.'

He laughed.

'Oh yeah, I would have been fine. I wouldn't have been. You know that. If you would have been under the influence as well, I would have been screwed.'

A pregnant pause fell and when they both looked each other in the eyes, they erupted in a fit of laughter.

'Oh Merlin,' Harry squeaked. 'That came out wrong. You know what I mean. Imagine Ron being the one who had to save me. I mean, he's great and all, but-...'

'Pretty useless in comparison to my massive intellect,' Hermione said sarcastically. They both nudged elbows, while descending from the stairs.

'If you want to go back to the castle, I might want to tell you about a surprise that Ron has in store for you. It involves rose petals...'

'No, I'd rather stay here for at least an hour or two,' Harry said, honestly. 'Just to make sure it's properly gone. I mean, I won't ask you to stay. I know you have Arithmancy in an hour and I wouldn't want you to skip class.'

Hermione looked at him.

'Are you sure?'

'Yeah. It might be better, actually. You can give me an update about how everyone's acting. If the coast is clear, I'll come out.'

Stay, a voice inside her head said. For the love of God, Hermione, stay! Stay with him and tell him how you really feel!

But she didn't. She said goodbye to Harry, giving him one last lingering hug. Not today, she reminded herself. It would happen. But not today. And with a heavy heart, she retreated back to the castle.

AN: Thank you for reading! I loved writing the interaction between them both. I tried quite hard to keep the characters as true to themselves as the plot would let me. Until now, I'm quite pleased with the result :) I'll wrap this all up next chapter. Bye!

Chapter Text

Hi guys!

So, I wrote chapter 2, 3 and 4 in one day, and then I just had to go to bed because it was half past 2, haha. I thought I could wrap it up in one chapter, but I actually want to take some good amount of time to write the climax of the story, so I'm going to do that over the course of the weekend. Writing keeps my quarantine fun :) Next chapter will be last, though!

A big thank you to everyone who has left a review and who has followed or favorited this story. It means the world to me!

Love, Flora.

The events that occurred that autumn Monday morning passed as quickly as they happened. After Hermione had gone to class, she retrieved Harry from the shack, confirming what he had dearly hoped for: as soon as Harry had broke the scent with the antidote, his admirers had lost their obsession over him and had gone back to their normal selves. They had, however, forgotten anything that had taken place those few hours. Snape had been extremely distraught about his classroom being in such a state, Ron had no idea as to why he had covered Harry's bed in rose petals and fine silk and Draco Malfoy didn't understand why he felt like he had been trampled by a stampede. The collective memory loss resulted in the entire fifth and fourth years students to be immensely confused, alongside Snape and Umbridge, but Harry and Hermione had both decided to play along and act like they had no clue either. It was easier this way, more convenient. And before they knew it, life slipped back into its normal ways, but not before Harry had demanded Colin to give up all the photo's he had taken with his camera's that faithful day.

Their first trip to Hogsmeade took place and Hermione came up with the idea of starting a Defence Against the Dark Arts-group. Not long after, they decided to establish Dumbledore's Army. Harry reveled in his job as a teacher. He loved coaching his peers, seeing their confidence grow with every passing lesson. Months flew by - a lot happened, obviously, most noticeably Harry's first kiss with Cho, the attack on Mister Weasley, his lifelong ban on playing Quidditch for latching out at Malfoy and the interview he gave to Rita Skeeter. That last day in Hogsmeade had sealed the deal on Cho and Harry's relationship, as he realized that there was simply nothing much to talk about with Cho. When she accused him of wanting to get rid of her and meet Hermione, he couldn't help but think that maybe she was right. He had felt awful in that cozy tearoom, trying to clutch her hand, trying to achieve something called a "successful date", and when Hermione told him that he should have called her ugly to make Cho feel better, he had been astounded.

'But I don't think you're ugly!'

Hermione had looked at him with that face again: a sweet, concerned smile, sympathetic eyes, crinkled nose and slightly warped eyebrows. He had seen that smile a couple of times this year, always when he had been talking about Cho. It was a sweetness, mixed with a kind of pain that he couldn't quite place.

He thought about how it would have never been awkward with Hermione, if he had gone with her instead of Cho. That with her, he would have a million things to talk about, and he certainly wouldn't have to worry about her dramatically stomping off. And it wasn't like they were so much alike that conversation came easily. They could discuss objects they were both interested in, of course, but he could listen to her rambling on about house-elves, and she could listen to him enthuse about Quidditch, and they would still be able to have a good time. And then he thought that the talking with Hermione might not even be the best part of their friendship. Harry valued their quiet time just as much, or maybe even more - when they sat side-by-side, making homework, listening to the rain outside. He loved the fact that their quiet time, the moment he and Cho had avoided at all cost, was actually very pleasant for Harry. He loved being quiet with Hermione, listening to her quill that scratched on the parchment and the crackling of the fireplace, in the background the sound of her needles knitting yet another hat, Crookshanks purring on the nearby coach. He wished he could fill his days with those sweet, calming hours, but unfortunately, those moments had been extremely scarce.
Harry's fifth year had been trying so far to say the least. Hermione had been there for him, every step of the way. When Umbridge had infuriated him with her comments in class, Hermione thought of starting the DA as means to make him feel more in control and for them to learn something useful. When he hadn't been able to talk to his friends because he was afraid that he had hurt Mister Weasley, being possessed as Voldemort's snake, Hermione had broken off her Christmas-break to coach him out of his room. When he had been feeling hopeless about no one believing him about Voldemort's return, Hermione had arranged for the interview with Rita. She knew what he needed, stuck with him, even when he lashed out to her because of angry outbursts that didn't feel like his own. She had been so patient, so loving, so kind, so Hermione.

And then there was that smell. The moment the vial had touched his skin, he had also smelt something - something strangely familiar and pleasant. He had no idea what the scent had been, as he had smelled it for the last time in the Shrieking Shack, but he knew the smell was something he had experienced before. If he only could remember when.

He would kid himself not to admit to have gone through the events in his mind, over and over. Him and Hermione had made very brief remarks about it, now and then, when they had been alone, or when they had tried to mess with Ron, who had some sense that they did know what had transpired the hour and a half that he and so many others had been out of it. Potions and Defence Against the Dark Arts had been trying before - now Harry had to stop himself from imagining his worst teachers with that gloomy look in their eyes, whispering and singing his name over and over. The other day he caught Umbridge say the phrase "Oh my!" in a very innocent context, but it had made him choke on his own spit, and he had almost gotten detention for not keeping quiet. One other day, he woke up only to find Snape's sonnet stuck in his head, and though he refrained from singing the words, he couldn't help but to hum it the entire day, scowling to himself when he noticed himself doing it. Neville and Seamus had asked aloud why that song seemed so familiar and Hermione had nudged him quietly, smiling knowingly at him. He really liked how close she sat to him, and tried to linger on her touch.

Since the attack on Mister Weasley, Harry had been summoned to Snape's office once a week, to receive lessons in Occlumency. They hadn't felt that helpful, to be honest, and it made Harry very annoyed to miss out on down time with his friends in order for Snape to invade his mind. He hated reliving his older memories - especially the ones where his nephew had bullied him, and Snape unfortunately didn't have the class not to snidely remark on them.

'The Dark Lord can use these memories,' he said mockingly. 'He can sense your hurt and use it against you.'

Harry had flinched at the memory of Dudley getting yet another bike for his birthday, while he had gotten nothing. In his head, the memory of a cheering Dudley, who raced past Harry over and over and over again, replayed in his mind as he bit his tongue.

'You need to learn to control it.'

'If you only told me how,' Harry shouting angrily, but Snape didn't bat an eyelid.

'Concentrate, Potter, focus. Empty your mind.'

Harry tried, but he kept hearing Dudley's cheers, and Snape entered yet again, way before he had been able to summon the white sheet to concentrate on.

Memory after memory engulfed his mind. He saw himself facing the troll in his first year, then getting thrown into his cupboard for spilling some tea on the carpet at age 7. Suddenly the memory changed into a lustful mob of students, chasing after him, and that ridiculous sonnet swam through his head, Snape's voice clear as glass.

'Potter, what was that?! For Merlin's sake I hope that was not some kind of sick dream of yours-...'

'I can assure you it wasn't, professor,' Harry growled, rubbing his eyes.

'Then what was it?'

Harry tried to come up with some excuse, but Snape's pressing glare made him see no other way.

'It's what happened at the beginning of term. That hour and a half that no one can remember.'

Snape looked petrified. Then, suddenly stern, he demanded to know what had happened. So Harry told him about the vial, about the sudden change, about the poem. His teacher grimaced through all of it, but did not interrupt him, when Harry went on and talked about his escape via the steep stair case, Malfoy's determination to kiss him, and then the mob cornering him. He remembered with a frown how Umbridge had wrestled through the crowd to get to him, and as she had pressed herself up against him - he distinctly remembered her fat belly and suffocating breasts trying to squeeze the life out of him - he had managed to distract her for a moment to jump on his moving broom.

'How did you make us snap out of it?' Snape wanted to know. 'I thought that vial might be the cause for the damage to my office, but the antidote sits in a locked pantry in my personal chambers. What did you do?'

'I didn't do anything, actually.' Harry said. 'It was Hermione. Somehow, the potion didn't affect her, and she was the one who brew an antidote for me.'

This made Snape's eyebrows rise and he sneered.

'Naturally,' he said, in his low voice. 'I always guessed it would be the Know-It-All.'

Harry looked at him, dumbfounded.

'You always guessed Hermione would be what?'

Snape snorted and put his wand away.

'I think this was enough for today, Potter. I will see you next Monday.'

'Hermione is what, Professor?'

'I'm sure someone as clever as The Chosen One can figure that out,' Snape retorted. 'You can go now.'

'You made that perfume, didn't you? It was your brew that fell on my head. Hermione didn't react to it, what does that mean?'

'Oh, I'm sure she did react to it,' Snape replied, with a hint of sadistic glee in his voice. 'No one is immune to Odoratus Amabitur. Some people are just used to the effects it creates. It's useless to cast Avada Kedavra on a dead body, wouldn't you say?'

Obviously enjoying the evermore confused look on Harry's face, he felt the potion's master push him out of the classroom. His head was filled with more questions about the concoction, about what he had said, but Snape had dropped the subject on Hermione as Harry was forced to the door.

'Now, before you go, let me make this perfectly clear, Potter. If I ever hear you recite that poem again in my presence, I will make you scrub cauldrons until you're sixty. Understood?'

'Yes, Professor, but why-...'

The oaken door slammed in Harry's face. He stood there for a moment, gathering his thoughts, and then it dawned on him.

Chapter Text

Hi guys!

So yes, this is it! The final part :) Thank you to all who have followed and/or favorited over the last couple of days and a special thanks to all the reviewers. I've had such a great time, thank you! Please tell me what you thought of this ending. I hope you all stay safe and healthy in these trying times. May the ending to this story brighten your day.

Love,

Flora

'Harry, where are we going?' Hermione asked in a hushed tone, as they exited the Gryffindor common room. 'I told you I needed to study tonight-...'

'You trust me, right?' Harry said, with a grin. 'I told you it's important.'

'Important enough to break curfew? I'm a Prefect, for crying out loud! If you would only tell me-...'

'I won't. Now stop protesting and get under that cloak.'

Hermione groaned, with a very irritated look on her face, as she let him drape the silky fabric over her head. 'You're going to be the death of me someday, I just know it,' she mumbled. Harry laughed, as they began their descend from Gryffindor tower.

The walk to the Room of Requirement hadn't been that long, but it hadn't stopped Harry from feeling more anxious with ever steep he took. He had a lump in his throat and his stomach just couldn't stop making these somersaults, no matter how hard he tried. He was nervous alright, but everything considered, it was a good kind of nervous. And it was about bloody time.

They quickly made their way to the 7th corridor. He made sure Hermione followed him as he walked three times past the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy and his ballet-dancing trolls. When the wooden door appeared, he smiled contently.

The room had accommodated to Harry's needs, as it was not as big as during DA-practice, but still spacious enough not to make them feel trapped. It looked cozy, somewhat alike Gryffindor Common Room, without all the red and gold, but with a comfortable sofa, some armchairs and a burning fireplace. A pick-up was playing some light jazz music and Harry felt at ease immediately. He would be able to do this, he convinced himself.

'This looks nice,' Hermione said, breaking his train of thought, 'but I still don't understand why you brought me here tonight.'

Harry cleared his throat. 'I want to discuss that day,' he said, turning to face her. He had no idea where to start now that he stood before her, even though he had practiced it in his head over and over. It was a lot more difficult now she actually stood in front of him and he thought of all the ways his plan could backfire.

'Oh,' she replied, tense. 'What about it?'

He could still back out, he thought for a fleeting moment. He still could make up some excuse and they would just go back to the tower and... No. He was a Gryffindor, for crying out loud. If he wouldn't dare to make this step now, how would he ever face Voldemort?

'Snape knows,' he decided, not to cut to the chase immediately. 'He found out during Occlumency.'

Her eyes widened.

'What did he see? Did he hear his-...'

'Yes, he did. He first thought it was some weird dream of mine...' - Hermione laughed out loud - 'but then I confessed to him what it was.'

Hermione's eyes lit up brightly, as she was trying to picture Harry's awkward moment with their despised teacher.

'That must have been a fun conversation,' she mocked him, friendly slapping his arm.

'He assured me I would be scrubbing cauldrons for ages if I would ever mention it to anyone,' Harry chuckled. 'So I guess it's a good thing we decided to keep it a secret.'

'Wouldn't want that,' Hermione wisely nodded. 'I would pick Azkaban over having detention with Snape for the rest of my life... But that's it? Why did you bring me here to tell that?'

Okay, then. Here it was. The moment. He braced himself and gave her a tight smile.

'No, that's not it,' Harry hesitated, looking down. There was a slight pause, but then he realized that it was now or never. He took a deep breath and returned his gaze to her - to her beautiful brown eyes, and he looked at the tiny freckles on top of her nose. 'Snape also asked how I managed to prematurely break the spell, Hermione.'

Even though the hearth cast shadows over her face, Harry saw that Hermione turned a bit pale. He also noticed that her hands began to shake.

'Ah. You told him I helped you, didn't you?' she said, feigning calmness quite obviously.

'Yes. And I asked him what made you immune to the perfume, and he said that you weren't. That you noticed the effects too.'

Hermione did something very un-Hermione-like: she stayed silent. More than anything this confirmed for Harry that he had been right. He felt a pang in his chest - how could he not have known earlier? Why hadn't he seen the signs? He must have caused her incredible heartache: the one person who had never tried to hurt him, was hurting now because of his actions. He felt himself reach out for her trembling fingers, and weaved his own around them. She looked at their hands, now intertwined, and raised an eyebrow, looking puzzled at him.

'I want you to know that I care a lot about you, Hermione,' Harry said, softly. 'More than I care about anyone in this world. You were the first one in my life who showed me affection. You were the first person I can remember who hugged me and actually cared about me. Cared for me deeply. And I want you to know that... I feel that too.'

Harry didn't know how he managed to get the words out of his throat - with Cho it had seemed impossible. But this was Hermione. His best friend. With her, everything seemed so easy.

'Whenever we're together, I feel at ease. A lot of bad things have happened for the past year, and I'm sure are going to happen over the course of the next few years, but when I'm here, standing in front of you, so close to you... I feel so strong. And when I look at you, I just feel so... Blessed, I guess? I feel blessed to have such a great person, to have someone by my side who I know will be there for me, no matter what. I feel blessed to have found someone who... Who makes me feel like I can take on the entire world. I am so grateful to have you in my life, Hermione. So grateful. You have no idea.'

'Oh Harry,' Hermione said, her eyes beaming and somewhat glistening. 'That's so sweet, I mean, I-...'

Harry cut her answer short by squeezing her fingers lightly. He gave her a sweet smile, telling her with his expression that it was okay, that she could say all those words to him later.

'I want to prove it to you. Don't speak yet. I want to show you, just how much I care.'

'What do you mean-...' Hermione started, but when she saw what Harry took from his robes, she replied with an almost silent "Oh".

Harry dangled a very familiar looking vial in front of her eyes. The label on it made sure that she couldn't be mistaken. Odoratus Amabitur.

'How did you get that?' she managed to ask, clearly shocked.

'I nicked it as soon as Snape replaced it. I'm not sure he's noticed yet - if he has, I will have to come up with a really good excuse, but I don't care. I also stole the antidote from the cabinet in his private quarters - I managed to sneak away during Fred and George's swamp stunt.'

He held out another vial and placed them both on the little table.

'You're going to get in so much trouble over that,' Hermione gasped. 'Harry, you should be more careful. We have talked about this, Umbridge wants nothing more but a good excuse to expel you from Hogwarts-...'

'I don't care,' Harry said, simply. 'I want to show you how I feel. I want you to use the perfume on you.'

He took off the cap of the first vial, showing a small spraying head. Hermione looked surprised, then she pursed her lips.

'No, Harry. I couldn't possibly do that.'

'Hermione-...'

'You might think you feel the same, but you don't know that. You don't know what it will do! What if you go crazy and-...'

'I brought us to this private room, just to have no one else possibly being affected by it,' Harry soothed. 'If I do go crazy, the antidote is in the other vial, and I'm sure you'll be able to convince me to let you spray it on yourself, without me harassing you.'

'No,' Hermione said, firmly now. 'Harry, I get that you feel like you owe me some kind of repayment, but this is not the way. If I spray the antidote on myself and you break from the spell, you won't remember anything, and-...'

'You remembered everything, right?'

'Yes, but that's only because I wasn't affected-...'

'You were affected,' Harry reminded her. 'Snape told me. Didn't you see the glow on my skin? Didn't you smell-...'

'Of course I did,' Hermione exclaimed, frustrated now. 'But that's different, Harry.'

'It's not,' Harry soothed. 'It will be exactly the same.'

Hermione looked heartbroken.

'But what if it won't be, Harry? What then?'

And this time she didn't mean the antidote, but she asked something more meaningful, more deep. He looked at her sad, insecure expression - she was so vulnerable in this moment, and he couldn't bear to look at her agony. Boldly, Harry took one step towards her and brought his right hand up to cradle her face. He softly touched her cheek, tracing small, soothing lines on her face, gently putting some stray hairs behind her ears. Her face felt so soft to his touch. He brought his face closer to hers, making their noses slightly touch, and Harry noticed that Hermione was holding her breath.

'You trust me, right?' he repeated.

Her eyes were so close, that Harry had problems focusing on them clearly, but he could see the look in her eyes was one of bold determination.

'Always,' she answered.

With one free hand, he picked up the Odoratus Amabitur.

'Do you want to do it yourself?'

Hermione nodded. As Harry set a step back, to give her some space, she took the vial from him and gave it one, tiny pump. He saw the liquid falling on her skin, and the next moment, he saw her skin absorb the perfume. She immediately became radiant - but to Harry, she had always been like that.

'And?' she asked. 'Any urge to attack me or go crazy? How do I look?'

Harry smiled at her.

'You're Hermione,' he said. 'A little more radiant, maybe, but still. Just Hermione.'

'And... That's a good thing, right?'

He smiled at her gently, remembering their conversation in the Shrieking Shack.

'Believe me, Hermione. It's the best thing.'

He stepped closer to her again, reveling in the smell that she emitted much more strongly than usual, that familiar smell that he had recognized, all those weeks back. Maybe it was the perfume, or maybe it was just the way she looked at him, but all his nerves had evaporated and had made room for a whole different emotion - anticipation. With one swoop he pulled her into his arms, and with the next he felt his lips brush against hers. For a moment he halted, sensing that this was about to happen, and how excited that made him feel. He felt Hermione breath softly against his skin and he smiled. He wanted this, more than anything.

He pressed his lips unto hers - softly at first, but more firmly the second, at awe with how good it felt. Her lips were soft, tempting, heavenly. He melted against her, as their lips met each other, over and over. The feeling of Hermione against him felt so normal, so natural. He waived one hand in her brown curls, one hand pressed the small of her back against him, making them both flush. He realized he wanted to taste her, and just when the thought popped into his head, Hermione anticipated his thoughts by opening her mouth to him. He sighed softly into their embrace as he tentatively brought his tongue against her, shooting sparks throughout his entire body as they met. Her smell ebbed away slowly, but lingered on him still, and he half-noticed that the glow surrounding her began to fade as well. He didn't care. He wanted Hermione, with his entire being, like had had not wanted anything in his life before.

They kissed again, and again, until they gasped for breath, and then they kissed some more. Then, suddenly, they started chuckling together, and then they started laughing. One more kiss - another eruption of laughter, the beautiful sound of her sweet voice, filling the room. He looked at her - his bushy-haired, big-brained, best friend, wearing an over-sized jumper and softly bleached jeans. At this moment, with her slightly puffed lips and even crazier hair, she couldn't have been more perfect.

'You are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, Hermione,' he said softly.

'Harry-...' she began, but he did not let her finish. He locked her in a kiss again, opening his mouth, slowly tasting her with his tongue, enjoying their closeness. Hermione made a appreciative murmur and ruffled through his hair.

When they broke apart, they were silent for a mere second, before bursting out laughing again. He loved the sound of her laughing voice, Harry realized, and he felt happiness coarse through him like a whirlwind.

'Is the perfume still working?' Hermione asked. 'It should have stopped, I mean, we kissed after all... Am I still glowing?'

'You always do,' Harry said, slyly, which earned him slap on his arm. He feigned pain and grinned. 'Ouch, is that a way to repay me?'

'Absolutely,' Hermione said, with a half stern, half amused look on her face. 'You made me so nervous with that entire speech of yours! Couldn't you have just kissed me when we walked in here, without using the vials?'

'I wanted to do it properly,' Harry apologized. 'And this was memorable, won't you agree? So memorable that, perhaps, we should-...'

His words got lost when Hermione kissed him again, her hands firmly placed around his shoulders. He chuckled into their kiss, pulling her close against him, basking in the warmth of her embrace. He wished he could stay in that room with her forever. When they finally let go again, Harry felt incredibly proud of himself. They made themselves decent again, by straightening their hair and their clothes and they shared a happy, knowingly smile.

'You should go back tomorrow to give those vials to professor Snape,' Hermione said, her bossy self again. 'And, although I really have enjoyed this, I should remind you that we have our OWL's coming up in six weeks, and...'

Harry smiled at her contently, listening about her strict studying schedule, while putting the vials away in his robes again. Then he held out his hand, which she took, and they left the Room of Requirements, both silently thanking Neville for his clumsiness.