Bound

Chapter 26

Fucking Wisteria!

Draco had to take a deep breath and he basically ran across the sixth years' classroom, trying to prevent anymore intakes of Hermione's fucking perfume that was always following him like a plague.

Why the fuck is her smell always around?!

At his confusion, Draco did a double take, and when he was sure that it was a potion's classroom that he has just passed, Draco leaned against the wall and buried his head in his hands.

How didn't he notice this before?!

Wisteria, a fucking flower that has the most pleasant fragrance that he has ever had the pleasure to smell.

Wisteria, Hermione Granger's fucking perfume smell.

Wisteria, the fucking flower that he was smelling from a cauldron that was literally feet away.

Why is it more powerful than that time when he smelt it in sixth year?!

Sixth year....Sixth year?!

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!

He smelt Hermione Granger in his Amortentia! Sixth fucking year!

As the realization dawned over him, Draco's eyes widened and he huffed out a humorless laugh.

This is a fucking joke.

He liked Hermione Granger, that was a known fact that he has finally accepted. But liking Hermione Granger during sixth year?! Now that, was totally unexpected.

But as he tried to tell himself that he probably messed up the potion in sixth year, memories from before started invading the forefront of his mind.

"You know that smell of books? When you get a new book and it's smell is surprisingly good?"

Books, damn the fucking books.

As if the Amortentia knew what Draco was thinking, it sent a wave of smells that consisted of the smell of news book and the fucking Wisteria perfume that he was trying to avoid.

Memories flooded his mind once again.

"And I smelt this...flower scent? A perfume maybe, I didn't dwell on it."

Draco stared at the wall in front of him as he chased the memory away. There was absolutely no other way to describe his feelings other than that he was stunned. Glued to his place as he thought about the possibilities of him liking Hermione in sixth year.

But was it really far fetched? Another memory flooded his senses.

His eyes drifted to her dress and sure enough, the periwinkle dress enchanted him, getting him wide eyed and almost jaw slacked.

The color of her dress was ablaze and delicate, light for the eye and surprisingly extravagant.

The periwinkle dress, the fucking periwinkle dress.

Oh what he would do to see her in that color again, not that she didn't look absolutely stunning and magnificent in any and every color that she wore.

He groaned. Since when has he become so...whipped?

The memory continued on, and Draco almost gagged when he remembered the wet trail that was left by McLaggen on Hermione's hand.