TWO
POTIONS CLASS, 1996
hours throughout the years in order to perfect it.
But she reminded herself through the hustle that if she wanted to pursue a career at St. Mungos as a Healer, she would have to devote time and energy into perfecting the craft, which was how she was so easily able to identify the mother-of-pearl brew with a spiralling steam on the bench as—
"Amortentia, Professor Slughorn." She stated when called upon. "Identifiable by its mother-of-pearl sheen and the distinguishable spiralling steam, its scent varies according to what the person admires or desires the most."
The whimsical glow of the potion captivated her senses as she advanced daringly in the hopes of capturing its scent.
"For instance, I detect..." Her eyes fluttered ever so gingerly.
The toasty fireplace of the Gryffindor Common Room.
"Fire wood."
Another deep inhale.
Spearmint.
"Mint."
Heat simmered at her fingertips, her palms warming as the Flame within her threatened to spill out.
Green apples.
"And...apple juice." She muttered, nearly inaudible.
Ariana's eyes involuntarily flickered over to the hollow Slytherin, a devastating contrast to the boy she thought she was getting to know as he cast her an icy sidelong glance.
Despite the tight clench in his jaw and the way his vacant eyes seemed to illuminate in the faintest for a split second, she cleared her throat and willed herself to proceed with clarity and conviction.
"Though it is the most powerful love potion in the world, it cannot manufacture real love. It can only imitate it, instead creating a strong infatuation with the brewer."
"Excellent!" Slughorn approved. "Ten points to Gryffindor."
Hermione offered her praise with a light nudge with her elbow, her eyes dancing with joviality at her friend's intellect.
Ariana beamed at her in turn, knowing that she would well and truly be scoring T's in the class, had it not been for her friend's contribution.
Slughorn's instructions became muffled and drowned as Ariana diverted her gaze over to the sullen figure that was Draco Malfoy.
Her radiant grin faltered as she took in the way his weary blue eyes remained downcast, his mind encaged in a prison of gloom.
It was contagious, and she loathed the harrowing shiver that rolled down her arms as she struggled to work her way through his mind.
Whatever was plaguing him now was a recent affair, for the harder she reminisced, the more difficult she found it in unsheathing a moment in which Malfoy was visibly haunted.
Ariana had practised for weeks on end for Frog Choir auditions — had bored the Trio with her endless riffs, and harmonising with Neville's toad, Trevor, in the Gryffindor Common Room before the school holidays.
She was pleased with herself and her efforts when Flitwick declared that she would be the lead soloist in the induction assembly for their Third Year at Hogwarts, though the Trio would be sick to death of hearing their dear friend perform the exact same tune — which they knew off by heart at that point — in front of the entire school.
Ariana, with Trevor in hand, had belted out her solo and hit the falsetto notes where appropriate with angelic apt.
The Flame Keeper's gleaming grin was impossible to miss from even the furthest seats of the Great Hall as she took pride in her position, commanding the stage with such enthusiasm and glee that the Trio, despite their loathing for the song, couldn't help but share her jubilance.
Her moment of theatrical glory was intercepted, however, as she strode stage left to the Slytherin table, glimpsing Malfoy and his goons sniggering and whispering what she knew had to be insults toward her performance.
The glimpse turned into constant glances, before the fire within her gut twisted and toiled as the heat travelled to her hands, frightening Trevor and prompting him to leap right out of the cushion in her hands.
Perhaps she was imagining it, but Malfoy and his gang proceeded to guffaw the moment panic alit in her eyes.
The Trio acknowledged her discomfort and located the source, sending bitter scowls towards the Slytherins.
Nevertheless, the song was coming to an end, and she would not take their attempts at humiliating her lying down.
Tucking the cushion beneath her arm confidently and fixing her eye line above the tables, Ariana finished with the choir in standing centre stage, striking the final line sharply and swiftly.
A single droplet of sweat trickled down her forehead, and she wiped it away promptly as she gave a curt bow, fixating her gaze on her friends, rather than the prats that ridiculed her performance.
"Don't worry about Malfoy. He's a right foul git." Ron had assured her, though his affirmation was divided by the scowl he sent towards the Slytherin table. "You were fantastic."
Ariana muttered a 'thanks', before reaching for the chicken drumstick that sat at the zenith of the winglets, sinking her teeth into it contemptibly.
Her mind was riddled with misery as she glared over at the platinum haired boy who laughed amongst his friends, so carefree and oblivious to the foul mood he'd left her in.
Regardless of the claps on the back that Fred and George offered her in consolation, she couldn't shake the humiliation of being mocked in front of the entire school.
It was no surprise that as Malfoy and his group bailed early; Ariana had marched after him as quickly as her short legs could carry her.
Her ears were red with rage, her cheeks warming as she finally caught up with Malfoy at the mouth of the grand staircase.
"Oi!" She barked, her soprano echoing through the corridor alarmingly.
The serpents swivelled to face her sharply, though Malfoy appeared to be the least concerned of the clan.
He's grown intimidatingly tall over the break, Ariana had noticed.
With a broad side smirk, Malfoy met her eyes with glittering amusement, nodding his head only once as a cue for his crew to depart without him.
And so he dragged his feet towards her with arrogance, agonisingly slow and steady as she never allowed her glare to waver.
"What's your problem, Malfoy?" She demanded, maintaining a firm front as Malfoy closed in on their proximity.
His smirk widened, crossing his arms to match her own stance and looking down at her tiny frame. "My problem?"
"Yeah, your problem. Do you have anything better to do other than being a right foul git?"
Draco, realising what she'd gotten herself into a knot about, found her misconception absolutely hilarious as he laughed aloud, infuriating the Flame Keeper.
Ariana nearly boiled over the edge as she watched him roll his tongue across his teeth. "You think that's funny, do you?"
"Believe it or not, not everything's about you, Ardesco."
The nerve!
"Oh, sod off, Malfoy."
"I know it's difficult to hear, but there are other people that exist beyond your little bubble."
Flames danced at her fingertips, her eyes narrowed into slits as she ground the back of her teeth.
But no, she wouldn't let Malfoy have the satisfaction of her living up to the cruel nickname he made for her in First Year.
Clenching her fists, she willed the flames the fizzle out as she steadied her breathing, pulling her glare from Malfoy and turning her back on him.
Draco raised his brows pleasantly as the warm scent of burnt salted caramel —perhaps it was the flames she'd just extinguished — and oranges wafted from her locks, which whipped against his chest as she spun away from him.
"It was Parkinson."
Malfoy's agitating voice halted her in her tracks, and though she rolled her eyes, she curiously looked back.
"What?"
"Parkinson." He stated, the arrogance in his features suppressing and sobriety emerging. "She was sulking the entire time you were singing. Was going on for weeks about how she was so sure Flitwick would give her the solo. Sounded a lot like a moaning mandrake, actually."
To come to think of it, Parkinson was positioned right behind her as she'd moved to stage left to the Slytherin table.
The bubbling flames within her dissipated as the realisation washed over her like a bucket of cold water.
She had no idea how to react — what to say or what to do.
Despite how convincing it was, she had leapt to the conclusion quicker than she'd anticipated.
Malfoy clearly found entertainment in the way she'd gone speechless, her lips bobbing open and closed as she struggled to find the right words.
Still young and wide eyed, Ariana scoffed as she pulled an insulting face at him, before turning on her heel and strutting back into the life of celebration in the Hall.
Draco grinned to himself as he watched after her, satisfied that he had set off the little firecracker he knew had a short fuse.
Apple juice.
Draco Malfoy was quick to identify the outright lie, which grasped a firm hold on his treacherous thoughts that permitted no light to obstruct them until that moment.
He was well aware of her habit of reaching for the pitcher of orange juice every morning in the Great Hall, how he'd overhear her complaining to Granger about the foul taste of toothpaste and orange juice and how she yearned for a spell to cancel the sensation.
But who was he to call her out on her untruth, when he was doing all that he could to resist the burnt salted caramel and orange zest that the liquid mother-of-pearl taunted him with?
A/N: Aye, you can't go wrong with a classic Amortentia scene! Literally every single video floating around Dracotok was flooded with Amortentia POVs at some point - I can't have been the only one to see them AhAhHAhA.
At this point in the story, we're just laying down the foundations of Ari and Draco's backstory and dynamic before we delve into the meaty plot of the Sun Warriors and the development of their relationship.
It'll be a semi-slow burn (Hehe burn, get it? Cause she's the Flame Keeper lol) but trust me when I say that it'll be a good and worthwhile burn.
But thank you all for reading this chapter! I'd love to hear your thoughts and predictions, and am so keen to chat with you guys!
The QOTC Is: What would Draco smell in his Amortentia if he smelt you?
I hope you guys are staying safe and well, and hope you all drop a vote and follow!
Much love,
Metaphoric Star☆
ACT I
daughter of the sun
enemy of the heir