I Learned Your Pulse

"You are on a date?"

The next days flew by in a blur for Hermione, who was so eager for Saturday - anxious, really, not eager, that would happen to express some want for the need of the knowledge she was to possess - that she could barely continue fixing the potions. She'd never realized how wrong they were until now. She supposed after having to live under circumstances where if you made one wrong move you were dead for over a year, it had become a habit to fix everything. This, however, had Harry gritting his teeth (hypocrite) Ron glaring (normal) and Slughorn praising her every move, saying she should have his post, not him. "More knowledgable than half the staff, you are," he'd once told her, which, for some reason, made Harry stare at him with anger so malevolent he had fallen out of his chair. Potions, however, was not the only class she was gaining praise in. Defense Against the Dark Arts and Observation were two things she excelled in. David was very competetive, something she admired in a teacher - if you talk to them as an equal, they'll give you respect. Challenging them like you would a good friend is going to get them involved, not angry, like Snape did. Hermione had not missed a single point the entire week so far in either of his classes, even when they had one of their 'Q&A Sessions' as the other students called it, when she and he would shout extremely difficult questions that required long and thoughtful answers, and would nitpick every tiny detail. They both found immense fun in the harmless sport, and it intrigued everyone else to watch. On the rare occassions when Hermione would see him outside the classroom (patrolling or in the Great Hall) they'd stop and talk as partners. He was growing ever more faithful in her abilities, though he knew she knew no more about the first task than he did, and it was a little over a month and a half away.

Hermione found him a most interesting person. The amount of knowledge stored inside his wonderful mind! The amount of enthusiasm, the amount of longing for yet more knowledge! The subject had once come up with what they did in their free time; Hermione had, of course, answered with, "I study, mostly."

With his eyebrows raised, he'd asked: "No fun? No hobbies, like reading, or -"

"Well, I read textbooks, and the Tales of Beetle the Bard."

He'd left his question at that when Hermione asked him what he did. He smiled. "I paint," he'd responded, "and draw. Sometimes I like to just write down ideas for artwork."

Hermione knew, of course, that those artistically talented are usually able to unerstand things beyond the normal capacity level in the Wizarding World. She'd always wondered if it was reciprocal, but had never tested it. She admired him that much more for it. Their friendship was developing quickly, and Hermione's earlier sentiment ("We'll see who's teaching who later") came very true - it seemed Hermione often knew things he didn't, and he often knew things she didn't. They had regular contests in class now, and nobody forgot any of the information they spouted out with the air speed velocity of an unladen swallow.

But Hermione was nearly bouncing in her shoes as the afternoon sun beat down on her as she walked to Hogsmeade on Saturday, her bushy hair caught up in a bun and her eyes alight with curiosity.

The shops in Hogsmeade were overflowingly busy and students everywhere we laughing and singing and talking; kissing, dancing to the music that was played over the whole village every minute of every day since the end of the war. The road where Hermione travelled was packed with bodies that pressed against her, but she made her way through them, seeing a familiar, long mop of dark brown hair waiting to greet her at the door of the Three Broomsticks.

"Simis," she greeted wholeheartedly.

"Hermione," he greeted in return, holding out his elbow for her to take his arm. She did, and the two of them walked calmly and hapily through the door. Hermione saw Ron, out of the corner of her eyes, looking murderously at Simis, but then he was gone into the crowd, just one batch of red hair amongst many colors and she was sitting in a booth with Simis, the buzz of noise surrounding them warm and welcoming. The Three Broomsticks was pleasant, as always, and a young waiter came over to take their order. He could not seem to pry his eyes away from Hermione and Simis had to order twice for him to hear. The man scurried off with an apology, red in the face, and Simis laughed. "Fancies you, he does," he said.