Potent

A shrill giggle pierced through the muggy morning air. It penetrated through the last threshold of Hermione's peaceful slumber, sending her mind reeling back into consciousness. Her eyes fluttered open, instantly assaulted by the thin beams of light filtering through the fluttering red and gold curtains. Her hands flew automatically to her small wooden nightstand and grabbed for her clock. The oddly glowing, magical dials pointed to 7:15 am. She grimaced and rolled back on to bed, wrapping herself in her cushy, maroon velvet comforter. It was Saturday morning. She had planned on sleeping in until about eight, eating a quick breakfast, and then spending the afternoon in the library. She was embarking on a fascinating History of Magic project for extra credit, and she had quite a bit of research ahead. She settled her head back onto her pillow and closed her eyes. Her muscles felt tense and her neck ached; she was rather exhausted from spending hours poring over obscure history books. It was worth it, she told herself. Professor Binns had remarked that any student who adequately completed the project could give a half-hour presentation in class. Thus far, in all of his years teaching both alive and dead, no one had succeeded. The combined stress of this, however, along with head girl duties, was making her rather tetchy.

Another bout of zealous giggles had Hermione sit bolt upright in bed once more.

"You two couldn't possibly keep it down, could you?" she asked crossly.

The two girls shot each other knowing looks and sniggered. "Hermione, don't you know what day it is?" Lavender whispered incredulously.

"I do know that as it's not yet 8 am, it's still technically quiet hours in the dormitory," Hermione stated primly.

"It's Valentine's Day!!!" Parvati squealed, throwing out her arms and knocking over an empty bottle of Butterbeer.

"Well, then," Hermione replied stiffly. "Could you please finish all that in the common room? You're being quite loud. Also, it smells."

Parvati sighed, exasperatedly. "Hermione...there are boys out there. We can't finish putting our outfits together in front of them!"

And sure enough, as Hermione glanced down she noticed a large pile of lurid pink and purple satiny material, covered in spangled hearts and baubles. A small silver cauldron frothing with light pink foam was perched haphazardly on top of a stack of what looked to be butterfly shaped valentine grams. It was emitting a most curious smell of eggs, butterbeer, and what looked suspiciously like newt eyes.

"Well, why don't you check? I'm sure it's empty, as most people are probably still sleeping. And what is that?!?"

"Crush cologne," Lavender announced proudly. "I read about it in Teen Witch Weekly. It's almost done brewing. You just spray some on your clothes and any boy within a ten foot radius will-"

"Alright," Hermione cut her off quickly. "Is that even allowed? Never mind. I don't want to know. I'm going to get a nip of breakfast. Just make sure none of that, er, stuff, spills," she said warily, as she watched a glob of congealed, murky pink foam slowly make its way down the base of the cauldron.

"Oops!" Lavender declared airily. "I'll just wipe that up." She proceeded to grab a sweater from her trunk and with a quick swoop the blob was gone. Hermione decidedly ignored the fact that the sweater in question was indeed one that she had lent to Lavender last Christmas; one which she had been told was lost. She proceeded to step over the pile on the floor and yanked open the dormitory door.

"Hermione! Wait! Want a spray?" Parvati called after her. "Ron won't know what hit him!" But Hermione had hastened her pace and was out the door before Parvati had finished speaking. "What's up with her," wondered Parvati.

Lavender giggled.

Lunch was a crowded and noisy affair. The excitement was palpable, especially from the exceptionally giggly female population. Lavender and Parvati were noticeably absent, after having sprayed on copious amounts of crush cologne both girls had promptly sprouted antlers. They were presumably going to spend the duration of the holiday holed up in the hospital wing, whispering furiously from behind thick bed curtains. Hermione felt a slight release from the ever-present tension in her shoulders, but was still mildly wary. As head girl, her unspoken duties included patrolling the corridors and secret pathways every so often to break up lover's trysts. It was not a duty that she particularly enjoyed, and she found the incessant gossiping and giggling that accompanied the holiday to be quite bothersome. Her sole consolation, she thought, as she slid into the space between Harry and Neville at the Gryffindor table, was the near-empty library that was sure to await her.

"Tripe, 'Mione?" Ron leaned over Harry's shoulder and pushed a heavy ceramic dish down the table towards her.

"No thanks," she replied briskly, beginning to flip through her homework planner while making tiny notations of the upcoming day's tasks. She tried to push the look on his face out of her mind. He had stared at her blatantly, half exasperated, half pleadingly.

Harry shifted awkwardly between the two. "Um, so are you guys goin' to Hogsmeade today? Fred and George owled me last week saying that Zonko's had some new stuff we might like." Ron's eyes brightened and he and Harry began to excitedly discuss the new range of secrecy detectors and other products in Zonko's 'Auror-junior' line. Hermione inhaled slowly in relief, and refocused her attention on attempting to spoon eggs into her mouth while jotting down study plans. Last week Ron had cornered her in the common room, blushing furiously, and asked her if she wanted to go with him to the Valentine's Ball. She had half expected it, yet had still been slightly speechless.

"Oh Ron! Well, then, I suppose so," she had replied cautiously, watching his face relax into a huge grin and hearing his audible exhalation of relief. It was appropriate, she had rationalized. It was what everyone had expected and anticipated. She should have been pleased that Ron had taken the first step towards what seemed like their inevitable coupledom. She had always imagined love to be a strong sense of obligation and loyalty, much like her relationship with Ron already consisted of. A romantic endeavor was just a logical extension of that friendship.

But a slight niggling feeling and a tiny voice in her head wondered if this was what she wanted, or what everyone else expected. Because Ron didn't understand how it felt when her fingers trembled as they traversed the pages of a well-worn book, the comfortable glow in the pit of her stomach as she absorbed knowledge...There were so many things to know and she felt so fresh and new when she thought about the great tomes of magical theory and ancient history that she had yet to peruse. She would hang on to every sonorous word her professors uttered, mentally cataloguing it into her budding chasm of knowledge. It made her feel the most like herself, when her mind was singularly focused on a single subject, so that every pore in her body was attuned to experiencing the information. It was often joyous, when her mind honed onto a previously ignored connection, or when she found loopholes to explore. It was also fantastically frustrating when she hovered on the edge of making some keen realization or solidifying a particular theory. This would impact her mood, she knew, and would sometimes become short with Harry and Ron, or act somewhat absentminded. It was something Ron didn't understand, and in some ways, she felt years distant from him. He existed solely in a physical, immediate sense, his mind a linear road towards instant gratification. Lately, spending too much time with either him or Harry was making her feel mildly anxious and somewhat stifled. Whether it was their impending graduation, or the strain of the looming final battle, Hermione was feeling decidedly more edgy these days.

Ron swallowed a large gulp from his jug of pumpkin juice and started to get up from the table. "There's me all done, then. You guys coming? Dean and Seamus are starting a game of Exploding Snap in the common room before we leave for Hogsmeade."

"Yeah, I'm in." Harry grinned, shoveling the last of his lunch in his mouth. "Let's go!"

"Hermione?" Ron asked again, tentatively. After she had agreed to accompany him to the dance, he had seemed to waver back and forth between thinking that he was her boyfriend, and thinking that she was a three-headed dog that would lunge at any moment.

"No, you go ahead. I have some stuff to do in the library before I get ready for tonight. Besides, I'm abysmal at Exploding Snap. I'll meet you in the common room at six?"

"'Kay," Ron grinned sheepishly and headed for the door leading out of the great hall, Harry in tow.

***