When we arrived in the Potions corridor we saw that there were not many people progressing to NEWT level. Five Slytherins had made it through, including Draco and Floppy. Four Ravenclaws were there, and one Hufflepuff, Ernie, whom I liked despite his rather pompous manner.

"Daisy," Ernie said portentously, holding out his hand as I approached, "didn't get a chance to speak in Defence Against The Dark Arts this morning. Good lesson, I thought, but Shield Charms are old hat, of course, for us old DA lags... And how are you, Terry?"

Before Terry could say more than "Aight," the dungeon door opened and Slughorn's belly preceded him out of the door. As we filed into the room, his great walrus mustache curved above his beaming mouth, and he greeted me and Kylie with particular enthusiasm. 

"Sir, I was wondering if Fred and George could take this class with me?" I batted my eyelashes up at Slughorn. 

"Oho! These are the entrepreneurs you told me about in my cottage! Yes, yes, alright, alright, they may join. Any friend of Daisy Potter is a friend of mine." 

I fist-pumped the air as the twins high-fived. 

The dungeon was, most unusually, already full of vapors and odd smells. Terry, Fred, George, and I sniffed interestedly as we passed large, bubbling cauldrons. The four other Slytherins took a table together, as did the other three Ravenclaws with Ernie. Harry, Ron, and Hermione shared a table with Kylie, who pecked my lips as she passed me, and Terry, Draco, Fred, George, and I shared one too. 

We chose the one nearest a gold-coloured cauldron that was emitting one of the most seductive scents I had ever inhaled: somehow it reminded me simultaneously of the inside of Zonko's joke shop, hot chocolate, the woody smell of a broomstick handle, and a vague mix of marshmallows and gunpowder. I found that I was breathing very slowly and deeply and that the potion's fumes seemed to be filling me up like drink. A great contentment stole over me; I grinned across at Terry, who grinned back lazily.

"Now then, now then, now then." Slughorn said, whose massive outline was quivering through the many shimmering vapors. "Scales out, everyone, and potion kits, and don't forget your copies of Advanced Potion-Making..."

"Sir?" I said, raising my hand.

"Daisy, m'girl?"

"I haven't got a book or scales or anything - nor's Harold or Red or Bushy or Dragon or Ronald - we didn't realize we'd be able to do the NEWT, you see -" 

"Ah, yes, Professor McGonagall did mention... not to worry, my dear girl, not to worry at all. You can use ingredients from the store cupboard today, and I'm sure we can lend you some scales, and we've got a small stock of old books here, they'll do until you can write to Flourish and Blotts..."

Slughorn strode over to a corner cupboard and, after a moment's foraging, emerged with six very battered-looking copies of Advanced Potion-Making by Libatius Borage, which he gave to us along with six sets of tarnished scales.

"Now then." Slughorn said, returning to the front of the class and inflating his already bulging chest so that the buttons on his waistcoat threatened to burst off. "I've prepared a few potions for you to have a look at, just out of interest, you know. These are the kind of thing you ought to be able to make after completing your NEWTs. You ought to have heard of 'em, even if you haven't made 'em yet. Anyone tell me what this one is?"

He indicated the cauldron nearest the Slytherin table. I raised myself slighty in my seat and saw what looked like plain water boiling away inside it.

Hermione's well-practiced hand hit the air before anybody else's; Slughorn pointed at her.

"It's Veritaserum, a colourless, odourless potion that forces the drinker to tell the truth." Hermione said.

"Very good, very good!" Slughorn said happily. "Now," He continued, pointing at the cauldron nearest the Ravenclaw table, "this one here is pretty well known... Featured in a few Ministry leaflets lately too... Who can -?"

Hermione's hand was fastest once more.

"lt's Polyjuice Potion, sir." She said.

I too had recognized the slow-bubbling, mudlike substance in the second cauldron. 

"Excellent, excellent! Now, this one here... yes, my dear?" Slughorn said, now looking slightly bemused, as Hermione's hand punched the air again.

"It's Amortentia!"

"It is indeed. It seems almost foolish to ask," said Slughorn, who was looking mightily impressed, "but I assume you know what it does?"

"It's the most powerful love potion in the world!" Hermione said.

"Quite right! You recognised it, I suppose, by its distinctive mother-of-pearl sheen?"

"And the steam rising in characteristic spirals," said Hermione enthusiastically, "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 -"

But she turned slightly pink and did not complete the sentence.

"May I ask your name, my dear?" Slughorn said, ignoring Hermione's embarrassment.

"Hermione Granger, sir."

"Granger? Can you possibly be related to Hector Dagworth-Granger, who founded the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers?"

"No, I don't think so, sir. I'm Muggle-born, you see."

I saw Floppy lean close to Nott and whisper something; both of them sniggered, but Slughorn showed no dismay; on the contrary, he beamed and looked from Hermione to me, who was sitting across the aisle from her.

"Oho! 'One of my friends is Muggle-born, and she's the best in our year!' I'm assuming this is the very friend of whom you spoke, Daisy?"

"Yeah, sir." I said.

"Well, well, take twenty well-earned points for Gryffindor, Miss Granger." Slughorn said genially.

Floppy looked rather as he had done the time I had punched him in the face. Hermione turned to me with a radiant expression and whispered, "Did you really tell him I'm the best in the year? Oh, Daisy!"

I grinned, feeling my face heating up slightly as Slughorn continued talking. 

"Amortentia doesn't really create love, of course. It is impossible to manufacture or imitate love. No, this will simply cause a powerful infatuation or obsession. It is probably the most dangerous and powerful potion in this room - oh yes." He said, nodding gravely at Floppy and Nott, both of whom were smirking skeptically. "When you have seen as much of life as I have, you will not underestimate the power of obsessive love...

"And now," Slughorn said, "it is time for us to start work."

"Sir, you haven't told us what's in this banterful one." Fred said, pointing at a small black cauldron standing on Slughorn's desk. The potion within was splashing about merrily; it was the colour of molten gold, and large drops were leaping like goldfish above the surface, though not a particle had spilled.

"Oho." Slughorn said again. I think that Slughorn hadn't forgotten the potion at all, but had waited to be asked for dramatic effect. "Yes. That. Well, that one, ladies and gentlemen, is a most curious little potion called Felix Felicis. I take it," He turned, smiling, to look at Hermione, who had let out an audible gasp, "that you know what Felix Felicis does, Miss Granger?"

"It's liquid luck." Hermione said excitedly. "It makes you lucky!"

The whole class seemed to sit up a little straighter. Now all I could see of Floppy was the back of his sleek chestnut head, because he was at last giving Slughorn his full and undivided attention. 

"Quite right, take another ten points for Gryffindor. Yes, it's a funny little potion, Felix Felicis." Slughorn said. "Desperately tricky to make, and disastrous to get wrong. However, if brewed correctly, as this has been, you will find that all your endeavors tend to succeed... at least until the effects wear off."

"Why don't people drink it all the time, sir?" Terry said eagerly.

"Because if taken in excess, it causes giddiness, recklessness, and dangerous overconfidence." Slughorn said. "Too much of a good thing, you know... highly toxic in large quantities. But taken sparingly, and very occasionally..."

"Have you ever taken it, sir?" George asked with great interest.

"Twice in my life." Slughorn said. "Once when I was twenty-four, once when I was fifty-seven. Two tablespoonfuls taken with breakfast. Two perfect days."

He gazed dreamily into the distance. Whether he was playacting or not, the effect was good.

"And that," Slughorn said, apparently coming back to earth, "is what I shall be offering as a prize in this lesson."

There was silence in which every bubble and gurgle of the surrounding potions seemed to magnify tenfold.

"One tiny bottle of Felix Felicis." Slughorn said, taking a minuscule glass bottle with a cork in it out of his pocket and showing it to us all. "Enough for twelve hours' luck. From dawn till dusk, you will be lucky in everything you attempt. 

"Now, I must give you warning that Felix Felicis is a banned substance in organized competition... sporting events, for instance, examinations, or elections. So the winner is to use it on an ordinary day only... and watch how that ordinary day becomes extraordinary! 

"So." Slughorn said, suddenly brisk. "How are you to win this fabulous prize? Well, by turning to page ten of Advanced Potion Making. We have a little over an hour left to us, which should be time for you to make a decent attempt at the Draught of Living Death. I know it is more complex than anything you have attempted before, and I do not expect a perfect potion from anybody. The person who does best, however, will win little Felix here. Off you go!"

There was a scraping as everyone drew our cauldrons toward us and some loud clunks as people began adding weights to our scales, but nobody spoke. The concentration within the room was almost tangible. I saw Floppy riffling feverishly through his copy of Advanced Potion-Making. It could not have been clearer that he really wanted that lucky day. Fred, George, and Terry had clearly all noticed this too, as they glared at the back of his head. I bent swiftly over the tattered book Slughorn had lent me.

The previous owner had scribbled all over the pages, so that the margins were as black as the printed portions. Bending low to decipher the ingredients (even here, the previous owner had made annotations and crossed things out) I hurried off toward the store cupboard to find what I needed. As I dashed back to my cauldron, I saw Floppy cutting up Valerian roots as fast as he could.

Everyone kept glancing around at what the rest of the class was doing; this was both an advantage and a disadvantage of Potions, that it was hard to keep your work private. Within ten minutes, the whole place was full of bluish steam. Hermione, of course, seemed to have progressed furthest. Her potion already resembled the 'smooth, blackcurrant-coloured liquid' mentioned as the ideal halfway stage.

Having finished chopping my roots, I bent low over my book again. It was really very irritating, having to try and decipher the directions under all the stupid scribbles of the previous owner, who for some reason had taken issue with the order to cut up the sopophorous bean and had written in the alternative instruction:

'Crush with flat side of silver dagger, releases juice better than cutting.' 

"Sir, I think you knew my grandfather, Abraxas Malfoy?" I looked up; Slughorn was just passing the Slytherin table.

"Yes." Slughorn said, without looking at Floppy. "I was sorry to hear he had died, although of course it wasn't unexpected, dragon pox at his age... "

And he walked away I bent back over my cauldron, smirking. I could tell that Floppy had expected to be treated like me or my friends; perhaps even hoped for some preferential treatment of the type he had learned to expect from Snape. It looked as though Floppy would have to rely on nothing but talent to win the bottle of Felix Felicis.

The sopophorous bean was proving very difficult to cut up. I turned to Terry. 

"Can I borrow your silver knife?"

He nodded sadly, not taking his eyes off his potion, which was still deep purple, though according to the book ought to be turning a light shade of lilac by now.

I crushed my bean with the flat side of the dagger. To my astonishment, it immediately exuded so much juice I was amazed the shriveled bean could have held it all.

Hastily scooping it all into the cauldron I saw, to my surprise, that the potion immediately turned exactly the shade of lilac described by the textbook.

My annoyance with the previous owner vanishing on the spot, I now squinted at the next line of instructions. According to the book, I had to stir counterclockwise until the potion turned clear as water. According to the addition the previous owner made, however, I ought to add a clockwise stir after every seventh counterclockwise stir. Could the old owner be right twice?

I stirred counterclockwise, held my breath, and stirred once clockwise. The effect was immediate. The potion turned pale pink.

I giggled at Fred and George, who were cursing at each other as they stirred their potions, their faces red from the heat of the fumes, and continued what I was doing. Seven stirs counterclockwise, one clockwise, pause... seven stirs counterclockwise, one stir clockwise...

Beside me, Terry was cursing fluently under his breath. I glanced around. As far as I could see, no one else's potion had turned as pale as mine. I felt elated, something that had only happened before in this dungeon when I was pranking Snape.

"And time's... up!" Slughorn called. "Stop stirring, please!"

Slughorn moved slowly among the tables, peering into cauldrons. He made no comment, but occasionally gave the potions a stir or a sniff. He smiled ruefully at the tarlike substance in the twins' cauldrons. He passed over Harry's navy concoction. Hermione and Terry's potions he gave an approving nod. Then he saw mine, and a look of incredulous delight spread over his face.

"The clear winner!" He cried to the dungeon. "Excellent, excellent, Daisy! Good lord, it's clear you've inherited your mother's talent. She was a dab hand at Potions, Lily was! Here you are, then, here you are - one bottle of Felix Felicis, as promised, and use it well!"

I slipped the tiny bottle of golden liquid into my inner pocket, feeling delight at the furious looks on the Slytherins' faces. 

"How did you do that?" Terry whispered to me, dumbfounded, as we left the dungeon.

"I'll tell you later." I said, because Floppy was within earshot.

Once Terry and I sat at the Gryffindor table for dinner, however, I felt safe enough to tell him.

Terry heaved a sigh. "Slughorn could've handed me that book, but no, I get the one no one's ever written on. Puked on, by the look of page fifty-two, but -" 

"Hang on." A voice close by my left ear said, and I caught a sudden waft of that delicious mix of marshmallow and gunpowder I had picked up in Slughorn's dungeon. I looked around and saw that Fred and George had joined us. "Did I hear right? You've been taking orders from something someone wrote in a book, Softpaw?"

Fred looked alarmed and angry. I knew what was on his mind at once.

"It's nothing." I said reassuringly, lowering my voice. "It's not like, you know, Riddle's diary. It's just an old textbook someone's scribbled on."

"But you're doing what it says?"

"I just tried a few of the tips written in the margins, honestly, Red, there's nothing funny -" 

"Let me see it." Fred snatched the textbook from me to my protests, and flipped it open. He snorted, and George, Terry, and I bent over to see. I saw something scribbled along the bottom of the inside cover in the same small, cramped handwriting as the instructions that had won me my bottle of Felix Felicis, now safely hidden inside a pair of socks in my trunk upstairs.

'This book is the property of the Half Blood Prince.' 

~~~

By our fourth lesson, Slughorn was raving about my abilities, saying that he had rarely taught anyone so talented. I was enjoying the attention immensely, and soon Saturday approached. 

Harry and I reached the spot in the seventh-floor corridor where a single gargoyle stood against the wall.

"Acid Pops." We chorused, and the gargoyle leapt aside; the wall behind it slid apart, and a moving spiral stone staircase was revealed, onto which Harry and I stepped, so that we were carried in smooth circles up to the door with the brass knocker that led to Dumbledore's Office.

I knocked.

"Come in." Dumbledore's voice said.

"Good evening, sir." Harry and I said simultaneously, walking into the Headmaster's office.

"Ah, good evening, Daisy, Harry. Sit down." Dumbledore said, smiling. "I hope you've had an enjoyable first week back at school?"

"Yeah, thanks, sir." I said.

"You must have been busy, a detention under your belt already, Daisy!"

"Wouldn't be me if I didn't." I grinned, and thankfully for me Dumbledore didn't look too stern.

"That is very true. I have arranged with Professor Snape that you will do your detention next Saturday instead."

"Fuck sake." I muttered to Harry, who lay a hand on my shoulder sympathetically. 

"So, twins." Dumbledore said, in a businesslike voice. "You have been wondering, I am sure, what I have planned for you both during these - for want of a better word - lessons?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, I have decided that it is time, now that you know what prompted Lord Voldemort to try to kill you fifteen years ago, for you two to be given certain information." There was a pause. "From this point forth, we shall be leaving the firm foundation of fact and journeying together through the murky marshes of memory into thickets of wildest guesswork. From here on in, Daisy, Harry, I may be as woefully wrong as Humphrey Belcher, who believed the time was ripe for a cheese cauldron." 

"The time is always ripe for a cheese cauldron." I stated. 

"But you think you're right?" Harry said.

"Naturally I do, but as I have already proven to you, I make mistakes like the next man. In fact, being - forgive me - rather cleverer than most men, my mistakes tend to be correspondingly huger." Dumbledore said. 

Dumbledore got to his feet and walked around the desk, past us, who both turned eagerly to watch him bending over the cabinet beside the door. When Dumbledore straightened up, he was holding a familiar shallow stone basin etched with odd markings around its rim. He placed the Pensieve on the desk in front of us.

"You both look worried."

We had indeed been eyeing the Pensieve with some apprehension. Our previous experiences with the odd device that stored and revealed thoughts and memories, though highly instructive, had also been uncomfortable. The last time we had disturbed its contents, I had seen much more than I would have wished. But Dumbledore was smiling.

"This time, you two enter the Pensieve with me... and, even more unusually, with permission."

"Where are we going, sir?" I said. 

"For a trip down Bob Ogden's memory lane." Dumbledore said, pulling from his pocket a crystal bottle containing a swirling silvery-white substance.

"Who was Bob Ogden?" Harry asked. 

"He was employed by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement." Dumbledore said. "He died some time ago, but not before I had tracked him down and persuaded him to confide these recollections to me. We are about to accompany him on a visit he made in the course of his duties. If you will, Daisy, Harry..."

But Dumbledore was having difficulty pulling out the stopper of the crystal bottle: his injured hand seemed stiff and painful.

"Shall - shall I, sir?"

"No matter, Daisy -" 

Dumbledore pointed his wand at the bottle and the cork flew out.

"Sir - how did you injure your hand?" Harry asked again, looking at the blackened fingers with a mixture of revulsion and pity. I shot him a look. 

"Now is not the moment for that story, Harry. Not yet. We have an appointment with Bob Ogden." Dumbledore said. 

He tipped the silvery contents of the bottle into the Pensieve, where they swirled and shimmered, neither liquid nor gas. "After you." Dumbledore said, gesturing toward the bowl. 

All three of us entered the memory. Suddenly, me, Harry, and Dumbledore were standing in a country lane, watching a plump man in glasses read a wooden signpost. We watched as Ogden cautiously approached a house. As Ogden neared the house, Harry and I heard a voice speaking Parseltongue telling Ogden he is not welcome. The voice, coming from Morfin, a man in rags, moved closer and jinxed Ogden. Suddenly, another man rushed out of the cabin - Morfin's father, Gaunt. Ogden tells the men that he is there to investigate Morfin's use of magic on a Muggle.

Ogden then met Gaunt's daughter, Merope. Ogden presented a summons to the Ministry for a hearing, and Gaunt reacted with rage, first showing Ogden his ugly gold ring with a black stone, then dragging Merope toward Ogden by the locket hanging around her neck. Gaunt showed Ogden the symbol on the locket, explaining that they are the last living descendents of Salazar Slytherin. Gaunt admitted that his son performed a jinx on a Muggle, and Morfin accused Merope of being in love with the Muggle boy, Tom, whom he jinxed. Gaunt erupted into anger, screaming at Merope with disgust and attempting to strangle her, which Ogden prevented using magic. Morfin hopped up, wielding a knife and his wand, and Ogden flew the house.

Dumbledore, Harry, and I returned to Hogwarts, and Dumbledore told Harry and I that Ogden Apparated back to the Ministry and returned with reinforcements. Morfin and Gaunt were arrested and sentenced to time in Azkaban - six months for Gaunt and three years for Morfin. Gaunt's first name, Dumbledore explained, was Marvolo, which I recognised as the name of Voldemort's grandfather. I concluded that Merope must be Voldemort's mother. Voldemort's father, Dumbledore continued, was Tom, the Muggle boy Morfin jinxed. Merope used a love option on Tom, and when Marvolo returned from Azkaban he would not speak to or acknowledge his Muggle-loving daughter. Within a few months of their marriage, Tom returned to his Muggle village, presumably after Merope's love potion wore off. Meanwhile, Merope was pregnant with Voldemort. 

On our way out, Harry noticed the black and gold ring, the same ring Marvolo showed Ogden and that Dumbledore was wearing when he collected us from the Dursleys. Dumbledore told us he acquired it recently, around the same time he injured his hand. 

"Well, that was eventful." I said as we headed back to Gryffindor Tower. 

"You think?" Harry said, running a hand through his hair. "I'm mentally exhausted from it." 

"Voldemort's dad do be looking hella cute, though." 

"Ew, Daze. They look exactly the same." Harry mimed vomiting into a bin as we passed. "You think Voldemort's hella cute?" 

"Eh..." I said, thinking of the two times Riddle looked me deep in the eyes and made my head spin. "Maybe." Harry stared at me, his eyebrows raised. "Okay, no, I don't, Jesus fucking Christ." 

We arrived into the common room and joined our friends, who were all sitting around a table together involved in some uproarious topic of conversation, apparently. The whole squad seemed to be hanging out tonight; Fred, George, Terry, Draco, Kylie, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione were all discussing - 

"Amortentia." Fred said. "The love potion from Sluggy's class, remember?" 

"We've made a ton of a tamer version of it for the shop." George reminded me. "But never anything that strong." 

"We were just talking about what it smelled like to each person." Terry smirked. "Mine smells like old books, oranges, and some fancy cologne which I'm pretty sure is Draco's." 

"Naturally." Draco smirked, and Harry and I exchanged an amused glance as we sat down. "Mine smells of pine, apple pie, and oddly enough, whoopie cushions." 

"That's definitely Hopper you're smelling." I said, and everyone chorused their agreement as Terry leaned back in his chair, his arms folded with a cocky smirk on his face. 

"Mine's the scent of a brand new set of drums, luxury velvet, and - and the library." Kylie said, her voice faltering at the end. She glanced at Hermione, her face falling into a frown. Everyone subtly exchanged glances as I watched them with a small sinking feeling in my chest. 

"What was the thing you were gonna say after parchment, Mynee?" I said loudly, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees. 

Hermione bit her lip as she looked at me. Her chocolate eyes reflected in the flames of the fireplace. "Maple wood." 

My eyes darted straight to Kylie. A memory flashed across my mind of her twirling her drumsticks in her hands, telling me they were made of maple. 

There was an awkward silence. George decided to finally break the tension, turning to his twin and asking, "What did you smell?" 

Fred propped his feet up onto the table. "The Skiving Snackboxes, my broom, Mum's cookies. There's another one, it's a perfume or something... it's like an odd mix of Butterbeer and something floral." 

At this, everyone in the group nearly snapped their necks to turn and stare at me. I blinked. What the fuck do they want? 

Everyone except Kylie. She was sitting back in her chair, muscular arms folded, eyebrows furrowed. 

"What was yours, Softpaw?" Terry said quickly. 

"Uhhh, the inside of Zonko's joke shop, hot chocolate, my broom, and, like, a vague mix of marshmallows and gunpowder." 

Everyone nearly snapped their necks again, to look at Fred this time. 

Kylie stood up suddenly. "Daisy. Can I speak to you? Alone?" 

I followed her bewilderedly to the nearest door, the door to the boys' dorms. She led us through and shut it behind us, leaning against it with a resigned look on her face. 

At last, Kylie looked up at me. Her jaw was set. 

"What's this about, babe?" I said nervously. 

"Our Amortentia scents do not smell like each other." Kylie stated. 

"It doesn't seem like it..." I watched as her eyes darted up and down my body once, her eyebrows furrowing even more. 

"And there are two people whose Amortentia scents smell like us." 

"Really? Who smells me?" I said, my voice rising in sudden interest, but Kylie put a firm hand on my shoulder. 

"I've been thinking about this for a while now. I've felt like my heart was elsewhere lately. And this just confirms it. And now I know the feeling is mutual." 

"I'm so confused, can you just tell me -" 

"I love you very much, Daisy, and that's why it's so hard to say this." Kylie took a deep breath. "But my love for you is why I don't want to hurt you and I would rather see you happy. I don't see the point in hurting you and leading you on, even though I so desperately want to stay. You're incredibly hot and you check off everything on my perfect partner checklist." She scuffed her shoe on the floor. "But I can't stay when my heart truly belongs to another. And I know that yours doesn't belong to me either." 

"What are you TALKING about, baby?" I laughed incredulously. "Are you being serious right now? Have you been cheating on me?" 

"No." Kylie said firmly. "I have never once touched another girl while I was with you. But as much as I may love you... I'm in love with someone else. And you are too." 

"Who?" I demanded. "WHO? Who is this bitch that you've been emotionally cheating on me with, you fucking wanker?!" 

"She's not a bitch; she's one of your friends, and she didn't do anything wrong. She didn't invite this. It was all me." Kylie said quietly. 

"WHO?" I yelled, suddenly aware of the hot tears dripping down my face and ignoring them. 

"Hermione." 

I stood there in silence, staring her down as an ugly feeling thrashed in my chest and my face dampened. Hermione... Hermione stole my girlfriend. I suppose there's no proof that she did it intentionally, and if there's anyone who understands how hot and gorgeous Hermione Granger is, it's me. But the fact that she had just stolen my girlfriend was tearing my heart apart. 

"I swear I don't want to hurt you, babe... I know you never would have forgiven me if I had let this continue while my heart wasn't in it." Kylie said, reaching out for me. I flinched away. "Baby, please..." 

My mind was working fast. I'd had hints... I've seen the way they look at each other. The way they talk about each other, even if it was just in a passing comment. They spent too much time together as friends. And I had to admit, maybe my heart wasn't as in it as I thought either, if my Amortentia scent didn't even smell of Kylie in the slightest, but Hermione's did... 

"I... I guess my heart must be somewhere else too if the potion..." I sniffled. "If the potion..." 

"You smelled someone else." Kylie nodded. "We all know who it is. But I doubt anyone'll tell you. It's something you have to figure out for yourself." 

"F-fuck sake." I sniffed. "Not even a hint?" 

"If you don't know by now, Daisy, you're seriously hopeless." Kylie said, a slight teasing tone to her voice. "Everyone knows but you." 

We stood in silence for a moment. We stared at each other, my gaze moving over her perfectly chiselled face, her deep blue eyes, her sharp jawline. Her lips... 

As if she knew what I was thinking, she said, "One last kiss? For us?" 

Without even thinking, I leaned in. Our lips connected, and I let out a sob into her mouth. Kylie moved her lips passionately with mine, and as fast as it started, it ended. I choked back another sob as my chest thrashed. 

"I guess if it had to be anyone, I'd rather it be Hermione." I said roughly, before ripping open the door to the dorms and striding across the common room. I could feel my friends' eyes on me, but I didn't care. I exited out the portrait hole as tears burned their pathways down my cheeks, making my way alone towards any part of the castle that was empty and would allow me to cry my feelings out until I couldn't feel anything at all.