𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐘 ᴼ.ᵂᴼᴼᴰ

twenty-two

Oliver handed her another bushel of flowers, which Elara took and carefully tucked into her bag.

"Well, see you around, Elara," he said with a small wave. "Yeah. See you," she replied.

As Oliver turned down the opposite corridor, Vivianne gave Elara a pointed look.

"I honestly can't believe you two are so stubborn you won't just make up already."

"I do forgive him. I just want to see how far he'll go," Elara reminded, glancing sideways.

"He'd probably do anything for you," Vivianne said with a shake of her head. "Quidditch comes first for him, Viv."

"Yeah, alright," she muttered, clearly unconvinced.

Elara rolled her eyes as they continued on their way to Potions. Professor Snape had warned them in the previous lesson that today, they'd be finishing their Amortentia brew.

Even Elara felt on edge—the potion was notoriously difficult and ridiculously easy to get wrong. And Snape was always painfully hard to impress.

He rarely gave Outstandings to anyone outside Slytherin. Somehow, Elara and Vivianne had managed to scrape into his NEWT-level class, and Elara wasn't about to let that luck go to waste—especially since becoming an Auror was her ultimate goal after graduation.

As they stepped into the classroom, nerves were running high. It was the last major grade of the term before exams, and everyone needed at least an Acceptable to stay afloat.

Elara, of course, wasn't having any of that. She was a control freak when it came to grades—nothing less than an Outstanding would do. Even an Acceptable felt like failure.

The brewing process for the strongest love potion in existence was grueling and painstaking. Every step had to be precise, every measurement exact.

When Vivianne uncovered their cauldron, Elara whispered a silent prayer that it had turned out alright.

Soft pink smoke curled up from the bubbling liquid, forming intricate spirals in the air.

"Did it work?" Elara asked, eyeing Vivianne anxiously.

"I—I think it did," Vivianne replied, astonished, as the aroma of cinnamon, leather, and old, worn books filled her senses.

"Merlin, it worked," she breathed.

Professor Snape swept over, his robes billowing behind him as he leaned over their cauldron with a critical eye.

"Your colour looks off," he commented dryly.

Elara's brows furrowed. She leaned closer, inhaling slightly—and froze.

Pine. Mint. Musk. Quidditch leather.

A small gasp escaped her lips as she registered the familiar scents—all unmistakably Oliver Wood.

"Professor, I—I think it brewed correctly," Elara stammered, still recovering from the revelation.

Snape raised a single eyebrow. He gave the potion a small, deliberate sniff. Something flashed behind his eyes—was that grief?

"Very well," he said curtly and moved on to two Slytherins across the room, who were staring into their cauldron with uneasy expressions.

"Viv..." Elara whispered, stunned.

"I smell Fay," Vivianne blurted out. Elara let out a shaky, breathy laugh. "All I can smell is Oliver."

"I knew it!" Vivianne crowed, a triumphant grin spreading across her face. "Merlin," Elara mumbled, burying her face into her hands.

"This is a sign you two need to make up—ASAP," Vivianne declared.