I Learned Your Pulse

"Still incredibly bright, I see."

The next day they got their schedules.

Hermione beamed at hers, and then at Professor McGonagall, who seemed to find it immensely amusing that the Head Girl was the only one not groaning with the amount of classes - and she hadn't gotten all she'd wanted. But she was pleased with her classes, as they had all be useful last year. The school not only still offered Ancient Runes, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, Transfiguration, Herbology and Potions, but they now offered Healing and Observation, which was a class devoted to be able to recognize the very last remnant of Dark Magic and how to extinguish it, weak or powerful. It, too, was taught by the new professor. Hermione, against her better judgement, had left herself one free period. She'd need to do her homework at some point, after all. She leaned over and looked at Harry's.

She grinned. "We have Defense together," she said happily.

Harry laughed. "And pretty much everything else but Healing and Observation."

Hermione's brow furrowed. "You're not taking Observation?"

But she saw it on his list. She looked at him, confused.

"Hermione," he said, slightly exasperated, "that class is offered at a regular and advanced level. They put you in advanced."

"But you're already better at it than I am!" she exclaimed. "Why are you taking regular?"

Harry leaned in closer. "So I can help Ron," he murmured quietly.

Hermione's smile slipped a few degrees, but she quickly regained her composure and nodded. "I can't wait to meet the new professor," she said enthusiastically.

But they had Potions first, and they had it with the Ravenclaws (seventh and eighth year, as the two years were there to learn the same things). They poured through the doors and selected their seats - Hermione and Ron sat on either side of Harry, as was custom. Harry's hands were gripped tightly on his Advanced Potion Making book, which had the old cover he'd given it back in sixth year. Hermione smirked slightly. I served him right, having to abide by the actual book as the last one had been destroyed in the Fiendfyre curse last year. No more marks he didn't deserve, oh no, she thought happily. She'd be top of the class once more.

Professor Slughorn was already behind his desk. "Hello, Harry, Miss Granger," he greeted brightly. "Mr. Weasley."

Ron looked absolutely dumbfounded that his name had been remembered by the collector of fame; and then remembered he was a third of the Golden Trio, and puffed his chest out proudly. "Sir," he greeted back.

Slughorn nodded and turned back to Harry. "Have a good summer, my boy?"

Harry nodded. "Fantastic," he said. "It was fantastic."

"Good!" said Slughorn. "Some more alone time with Miss Weasley, I presume?"

Ron's chest deflated and he looked disagreeable; Harry's face turned tomato-red. "Yes, sir," he said quietly.

A few scattered people laughed, Neville, in the back of the room, being one of them.

Slughorn turned to him. "Mr. Longbottom, how was your summer?"

"Great," he said earnestly. "Gran really likes Luna, and I - well, it wasn't over the summer, but... um, never mind."

Slughorn looked bemused. "What is it, my boy?"

Neville looked sheepish. "It's not important."

"Oh, Neville," said Hermione. She turned to the professor. "He's engaged," she said loudly, "to Luna Lovegood."

The Ravenclaws and Gryffindors alike sent up a raucous cheer, watching as Neville laughed to hide his embarrassment.

Slughorn congratulated Neville, who looked at his feet and thanked the people patting him on the back and giving their appraisal, and leaned toward Harry. "No more written-in books, Mr. Potter?" he said quietly.