Author's Note: Excuse the lame title! I honestly couldn't think of one.

A quick drabble in honor of Hermione's birthday, hosted by Hermione's Nook.

My prompt was "sniff" so the obvious choice was Amortentia. Predictable, but what can I say? I love potions.

Hermione entered her first day of NEWT level Potions class, astounded to see how few students had made the cut based on their OWL scores. There were twelve students total, and she was honestly disappointed that Slughorn had relaxed the entrance criteria. She had been looking forward to a year of Potions without Harry and Ron looking over her shoulder or asking to copy her homework. They were, quite frankly, the worst type of students for this class.

Four Ravenclaws, Ernie MacMillan from Hufflepuff, and four Slytherins, including Malfoy. Malfoy, who Harry was quickly becoming obsessed with. Merlin, it would be another class where Harry just stared at the brooding blond.

Unlike Snape, Slughorn seemed to love showing off to his students; the four bubbling cauldrons full of complex brews were making half the students loopy. She sniffed the air and smelled… spearmint, fresh parchment, and… oh, Gods, one of the boys in the room had clearly taken a bath in aftershave or cologne. Did wizards even wear aftershave since they had enchanted razors? She wasn't sure.

She looked at the cauldrons and started identifying the potions. Felix Felicis was easy; it was a shimmering gold potion, and its appearance should have been impossible. Veritaserum, perfectly clear and odorless, was the next. She smiled when she noticed the Polyjuice Potion, feeling smug that she'd successfully brewed it at age thirteen. And the last, well, it explained the boys' behavior. It was Amortentia, and they were likely all getting high on love potion fumes.

Her mind came to a screeching halt. Spearmint. Freshly-mown grass. This cologne must belong to whoever she was truly attracted to.

There was only one problem with that — she knew it didn't belong to Ron.

Wasn't she supposed to be in love with Ron? Could she be in love with Ron and not be attracted to him?

This potion had clearly been made wrong. She gave it another sniff and decided it was most definitely dodgy.

She noticed the Slytherins watching her as she examined the potions.

"Still aiming to be teacher's pet, Granger?" Zabini taunted.

Hermione smiled sweetly at the four Slytherins — Malfoy, Zabini, Nott, and Davis — and sarcastically replied, "Always. It's just who I am."

Slughorn called the class to order, and they all moved towards the cauldrons. As soon as the Slytherins moved nearer, the scent of the cologne intensified.

No, she thought. It's not possible. I can't be — I won't be — attracted to one of these three prejudiced prats.

She moved away, not wanting to determine which one of them her body was betraying her mind and her heart with. It was for the best if she never knew, especially with the climate of the wizarding world. The pureblood families were largely aligned with Voldemort. The last thing she needed was a romantic entanglement with a snake on the other side of the war.

Standing between Harry and Ron, she felt a bit more safe, just answering Slughorn's questions and racking up points for Gryffindor. The sneer on Malfoy's face intensified when she correctly described the properties of Amortentia, and he glared at her directly.

Hermione was grateful when she returned to her seat. She spent the lesson feverishly brewing, determined to win the small vial of Felix Felicis. On the few occasions she took her eyes off of her cauldron, she saw everyone around her doing the same. Much to her chagrin, Harry's potion was deemed the best, even though he'd been working from an altered set of instructions. It didn't silence her inner frustration, though.

She'd felt off all lesson after realising her Amortentia smelled like a snake, and Harry's cheating ways had not improved her mood. On top of that, Ron was jealous of Harry's successful brewing, which made him surly and rubbish company. It was just further proof that neither of them belonged in the advanced class.

With a huff, she stood and stormed out of the dungeon, not waiting for the two other Gryffindors. Malfoy followed, hot on her heels, and he grabbed her wrist and yanked her into an alcove. They were so close their faces were almost touching.

"How did Potter manage to brew a better potion than you, Granger?" He snarled.

One sniff of the air confirmed her worst fear. It wasn't just any snake she was attracted to — it was the most deadly one, and he now had her cornered, poised to strike.

His tongue darted out quickly, wetting his lips, before he spoke again. "Tell me, Granger. Tell me how someone who is rubbish at making potions suddenly makes a perfect one."

"I-I'm not sure," she breathed, and she noticed him inhale deeply.

Malfoy leaned in closer and whispered in her ear, "You're a horrible liar, Granger."

His cologne was going to suffocate her, and she could feel the heat radiating off of his body. Something bad was going to happen if she didn't move. She was going to embarrass herself by kissing him… or doing something worse. She gathered her wits and wrenched her hand away.

"Harry just got lucky," she spat.

With a smirk, Malfoy retorted, "And what about you? Have you gotten lucky?"

Hermione felt her cheeks heat, and she moved to storm out of the alcove. He caught her again, and he inhaled deeply. "Amortentia… what a joke. I'm sure Slughorn messed it up somehow."

She stiffened. "Yes, I'm sure you're right. In fact, I was thinking that through the whole lesson."