Lemon Grass and Sleep

A WHIFF OF TROUBLE

"I'll pretend to not understand why this is a popular request," Snape continued, bringing out a somewhat large glass jar of the potion. Swirls of steam danced out of the potion and dispersed into the air, and I could already feel a bit dizzy from the sweet smell.

"Very well, gather around students."

Girls rushed up to Snape's table at the front of the room, eagerly leaning their noses close to try and catch a whiff of the boys they liked.

"I will not be taking volunteers," Snape drawled coldly, brushing his hand over the mouth of the jar and smothering the scent.

As Snape's eyes passed around the group of children, eager or avoidant, I pleaded with the stars above that he would skip over me uneventfully. However I had forgotten something very, very important.

It's a Tuesday.

"Mr. Soot, take a deep inhale and describe the scent."

Immediately, my stomach sank to the floor and I could feel everyone's eyes staring deep into my soul. Could they tell that I'd gotten dressed on the way here? My robe wasn't inside out again, was it?

"Yes sir," I spoke dryly, suddenly feeling like I'd never had a drop of water since birth.

The mouth of the bottle glared at me, spindles of wispy steam rising in swirls to greet my eyelashes as I glanced into it. All it took was one deep breath through my nose and the smell of warm yarn, the singe of fireworks, and the smell of wind as it threaded itself hastily through one's hair on a too-fast broomstick ride assaulted my senses. My eyes shot open faster than I cared to admit.

"Fresh linen and citrus," I lied through my teeth, averting my eyes to the ground quickly.

"And the third?"

"Something flowery," the words barely came out a murmur as I already turned around to walk back into the crowd. Something about the stare Snape laid on my back as I walked away without being dismissed made me feel like he knew I was lying.

I glanced over nervously to see if one of the twins had caught onto my ruse, but the two sat snickering about something or other--barely paying attention to Snape's presentation.

"Mr. Weasley, care to pay attention?" Snape's thick sarcasm coated his words with enough disdain that even I shivered with embarrassment.

"Which one?" The two replied in unison, not missing a beat. Typical lazy, teasing smiles appeared seamlessly as if taunting the professor.

"How about both."

The two hopped off the counters they weren't supposed to be sitting on anyways and made their way to the center of the circle. Girls with hopeful eyes clamored for a front seat view of the twins taking a whiff.

"Approaching the gallows," Fred joked quietly, before leaning in. For a moment, a foreign expression fell over his face. Something like concentration or seriousness, something that I'd only seen a few glimpses of on the quidditch field.

"Wow," he breathed out, blinking hard. "What is that? Lemon grass? And a freshly made bed, and some sort of perfume I guess, never smelt it before myself."

"You don't even know what a freshly made bed looks like, nevermind what it smells like," George nudged Fred in the ribs, the two easily cracking their familiar smiles.

George learned in a took his turn, an expression of deep concentration taking over his features as well. He was completely silent as the girls all waited in suspense to see what he would describe.

"Smells like pussy!" George sneered, calling out loudly. Snape immediately pulled the glass away from the boy, assigning him a detention that was barely heard over the roaring laughter of the classroom. I couldn't help but let out a shocked chuckle myself.

As they walked to the back of the circle again, I thought I was in the clear--but George's eyes darted over to me with what seemed to be a sly smirk. Once again, I felt like he knew I was lying about what I smelled. Even worse, I feel like he knew exactly what I did smell, which was even more embarrassing.

"You know, I guess you do smell a bit lemon-y," she remarked as she sat next to me in the library.

"Piss off," I muttered, swatting her away as she sniffed the air around me enthusiastically.

"One might even say like lemon grass! That would be very accurate," she pretended to think hard, a slender finger resting on her chin.

"Would you drop it already," I pleaded fruitlessly, watching a familiar sinister smile appear on her face.

"How coincidental that all three of the things Weasley finds most attractive just happen to be things that describe you as well, hmm."

"Glinda, please."

"Oh, you're no fun."

My mind was still racing from class, I could hardly concentrate for the rest of Snape's review and O.W.L. preparations. George and Fred had been whispering all class and the only thing I could keep thinking was they're talking about me, they're talking about me, they're talking about me.

Deep down I know George wouldn't divulge my secret, he'd already been trustworthy for weeks. And Fred and I had made good progress by my standards, after I'd pulled through with the liquid luck he started saying hi to me in the halls more, and he just so happened to come to the great hall when me and Glinda typically ate.

But beyond that...nothing more had happened.

"How could he smell those things?" I whispered to her, sliding my chair closer. "He barely acts like he's my friend."

"Fred likes you, I bet he just hasn't realized it yet."

"Or he just finds me attractive," I blushed hard while I said that. Though I said it like a bad thing, I would take it over nothing.

"That's a start, though. Looks are very important in a relationship," Glinda said matter of factly.

"To you," I muttered, earning me a light smack on the back of the head.

"To you as well," she teased, "Pulling a Weasley twin and then claiming you don't care about looks? Likely story."

"Whatever," I mumbled, my blush not bothering to fade at all.

Rather than get lost in studying, like I would've preferred, I once again found myself replaying the moment that Fred described my scent in three simple phrases.

Lemon grass, a freshly made bed, and....perfume?

"Why did he say I smell like perfume?" I panicked, whispering frantically to Glinda. "Does that mean he also likes a girl?"

"What? Thomas, are you stupid?"

"Now is not the time for insults, Glinda."

"Tommy, my boy. You sleep next to potted flowers every night, and spend nearly every waking moment with me. Of course you're going to smell like perfume."

"Merlin's beard, I smell like a girl," I said, horrified. "Fred Weasley thinks I smell like a girl."

"Right he does," a voice chimed in from behind us. "And I think that's a great alternative to smelling like a boy."

"Finally, someone with some sense," Glinda breathed out as we turned to face George.

"I really smell like flowers?" I glumly asked George.

"Hate to be the one that says it, but yeah."

"Does Fred...like flowers?" I asked hopefully.

"Enough to smell them in amortentia," George teased cruelly, smiling wide and squinting his eyes at me. Glinda giggled evilly as the two of them shared a look of common ground.

"Sometimes I regret being the link between you two," I mumbled.