A collection of the works I wrote for Femslash Februrary 2019. Parings include: Pansmione, Delachang, Linny, Parvansy, Ginsy, Ginny/Tonks, Ginmione, Flonks, Daphne/Pansy, and Lunsy. Most are rated teen or below.
Prompt, pairing, rating, word count...
Hermione frowned at her potion as she decanted a sample. The scent profile of her Amortentia had changed dramatically. It wasn't really surprising after everything that had happened since she'd first made it, but the fact one of the scents was vanilla was completely baffling.
It wasn't a scent she thought she liked. In fact, outside of the odd bit of baking, she couldn't remember ever really smelling it anywhere.
"It's a conspiracy," Harry muttered from beside her as he decanted his own sample. Ron was laughing at him on her other side, his own sample already collected. He'd loudly declared an overabundance of Quidditch related smells and that, paired with the fact he now talked to Krum more than she did, said it all.
"What's yours now?" Ron asked, giving her a nudge and peering into her potion as if it would let him smell what she did instead of his own scent profile.
"None of you business," she said primly, deciding to decant a second sample for herself.
"Can't be as bad as Harry's," Ron laughed, tossing a quill at Harry.
Harry muttered something that sounded distinctly like 'up to something', and Hermione couldn't help but smile even though she was still confused by her own potion.
After all, why Vanilla of all things?
The question haunted her for the rest of the day. Every time she pulled out her sample to take another cautious sniff, she got teased by Ron and Harry. Soon the others caught on too. No one called her love sick, her frowning at least prevented that, but they still all made a big production of it every time they caught her sniffing the vial.
Still, she was no closer to figuring it out when she finally retired to her dormitory that night.
As she closed the door behind her with a sigh, she immediately tensed up again.
"What are you doing on my bed?" she demanded.
Pansy lazily turned over another page of her book before looking over to the door.
"Your flea-ridden excuse for a pet is sleeping on my bed again," she said.
Hermione groaned and stomped over to Pansy's bed to scoop up Crookshanks. He began purring immediately, and she scratched behind his ears as she marched over to her own bed.
"Get off my bed," she said primly. "And for the thousandth time, he doesn't have fleas!"
After making a show of putting her bookmark in her book just so, Pansy peeled herself off Hermione's bed and sauntered over to her own. She then made a production out of casting several spells to remove pet fur and fleas.
Hermione glared at her the whole time. No amount of nagging worked to make Pansy treat their shared room with more respect. The moment Hermione was gone she was snooping in her things and lounging on her bed. One day Hermione had come back to find her books rearranged, as well as her desk. Even if it was a slightly, slightly, more efficient system, she'd still changed it back and told her off.
"Honestly, just move him yourself next time," she muttered as she put Crookshanks down and got changed for bed. "Why is that so hard? I would have thought you'd prefer that to lounging all over my bed."
Pansy made a non-committal sound and got into her own bed to continue reading. With sudden suspicion, Hermione scanned the cover.
"Quit stealing my books!" she hissed, marching over to snatch it back. Pansy stuffed it down the front of her nightie before she could get it. "Oh, real mature," Hermione spat.
"Go sniff your potion again, addict," Pansy replied.
Hermione's face went hot. "Piss off," she muttered, before stomping back over to her bed.
Without looking back, she climbed into bed and shut the drapes around her. Ensconced in the dark, she closed her eyes with a groan and buried her face in her pillow. What an annoying end to the day.
