"No, no, no," Hermione said, fighting to hold on to the last of her patience.  "Neville, dump out the whole thing, and then we'll try again." 

It was late, and both Hermione and Neville were tired.  It was the type of tiredness that was impossible to comprehend while in the state.  Hermione's very bones ached with weariness, and all she could think about was her soft bed waiting for her, waiting for Neville to get this potion right.  There was a big Potion's test the next day, and Hermione was coming to the realization that she was too kind for her own good. 

She heard the clatter of dropped equipment on the common room floor, and before she could sigh in exasperation, she took a long drink from her bottle of water, capped it, and then turned to Neville.

"Well then!  Once more should do it," she tried to muster some sense of cheerfulness for Neville's sake.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione," Neville told her, wiping beads of sweat from his forehead.  Hermione reached for her bottle of water, and took a drink.  "Hermione…I…I don't think that was safe."

Hermione, once the concoction had hit her lips, realized how stupid she had been.  "Oh gods," Hermione mumbled.  She had swallowed once, maybe twice.  Merlin's Beard!  She was too tired to remember anything properly.  She saw Neville coming toward her…with a knife?!

"Hermione," he said softly, in the way Hermione imagined a murderer would before he sliced you open.

"Put that down, Neville," Hermione tried to say calmly.

"Hermione, I really think this would help…" Neville trailed off, as Hermione attempted to stagger toward him.

"Put that down, you greasy bastard, or so help me gods!" Hermione managed to shout out, before crumpling into an unconscious heap on the floor.

Neville was left standing over her, Hermione's water bottle in his hand, debating whether he should go get Harry or Nurse Pomfrey.

*******************

"I said put it down!" Hermione exclaimed, jumping to her feet.  Her entire Charms class looked at her in confusion.

Hermione was staring wildly around her and breathing hard when Professor Flitwick asked, "Miss Granger?  Are you…feeling all right?"

"Perhaps she should go to the infirmary," Harry interrupted, getting to his feet.  He had that guilty air about him that Hermione recognized almost immediately.

"Yes, yes, of course.  Mr. Potter, please make sure she gets there all right," Professor Flitwick told him, worrying over his top student.

Harry took Hermione into the hallway, but stopped her as she started walking down the hall.

"Hermione," Harry began, a look of urgency coming into his eyes, "what do you remember from the past week."

"Harry, that's ridiculous, you know my schedule is so busy," Hermione told him, but seeing that he wasn't joking, she sighed and said, "Well, I…I was…I studied for…," Hermione trailed off. 

"Hermione?" Harry asked, gently.  "Are you okay?"

Hermione's lip was trembling and tears were forming in her eyes.  "Harry, I don't remember anything.  Why don't I remember anything?"

"I think Dumbledore should explain this to you…him or Neville," Harry added under his breath.

"Oh!  I remember something!  Neville…we were studying for that Potion's test, and I drank his mixed-up potion."

"That much we know, because Neville came blubbering into the dormitory a week ago last night, shaking me and shouting that he had killed you and was being sent to Azkaban."

"Oh, poor Neville," Hermione murmured.

"Hermione!" Harry shouted.  "He gave you something, we don't know what, and you haven't been yourself since that night, obviously just now waking up from the effects!"

By this time they were heading in the direction of the hospital wing. 

"What's happened to me in this past week?" Hermione asked Harry.  "What have I been doing?"

"I don't know if I'm supposed to tell you or not," Harry told her.  "We'd better just wait for Dumbledore to give us some sort of directions."

They arrived in the hospital wing, both silent.  Harry, trying to figure out how to help his friend, Hermione trying to figure out what she had, exactly, been doing for the past week.

***********************

By the time Dumbledore had been alerted, almost everyone else had been as well.  Including a few people Hermione did not expect to be concerned about her welfare.  All told, Harry, Ron, Ginny, Neville, Terry, Draco, Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, and Winky were gathered around the bed on which Hermione sat.

"You can't remember a thing about what you've been doing for the past week, Hermione?" Dumbledore asked gently.

"I haven't a clue," Hermione admitted.

Dumbledore looked around at the crowd, his eyes looked tired and worried.  "With any luck," he told Hermione, "that potion wasn't permanent, and you should remember things gradually after a period of time."

"How much time, Sir?" Hermione asked, a note of desperation in her voice.

"A week, at most, Miss Granger," Professor Snape intervened.  Hermione looked at him once, twice, and was sure there was something in him that wasn't there before.  The thought of Mrs. Pots singing in the dreary castle in Beauty and the Beast broke into her head.  Merlin, she wanted to watch that again.

"A week," Hermione absorbed.

"I think it would also be best if you just rested her for this week," Dumbledore said.  "Just in case something surprises you again.  We don't want to give Professor Flitwick any more turns."  He gave Hermione a weak smile.

"I understand," Hermione said, leaning back into the pillows.  Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape turned to leave. 

"Five minutes," McGonagall told the group of students gathered around Hermione.  "She needs some rest so she can get back into her normal routine again."

"Yes, Professor McGonagall," the group said in almost perfect unison.

When the Professors had left, Hermione looked at the group of wide-eyed students.

"You really don't remember a thing?" Terry asked, as Draco shuffled his feet.

"No, I'm sorry…Jerry, is it?" Terry looked like he wanted to cry. 

"No, it's Terry," he said, leaning on first one crutch, then the other.

Hermione noticed that Draco had her overnight bag, and that it looked packed.  "Are those my clothes, Draco?" Hermione asked, and then wondered why she had called him by his first name.

"Yes," he mumbled, looking embarrassed.  "I…uh…"

"Malfoy, what are you doing with my knickers?!" Hermione panicked.  Draco dumped the bag on the bed.

"I just thought that you might need some things, so…Parvati helped me pack some things for you."

"Oh!  Well…thank you," Hermione told him, confused.

"I'm just…going to leave now," Draco said, pointing at the doorway and walking backwards.  "Uh…see you, Hermione." 

The others stayed for only a bit longer, Terry lagging behind the others, probably in hope that Hermione might recognize him, or at least call him "Terry".

********************

The next morning, Dumbledore came to see Hermione.  She was already awake and studying, so sure that she was falling desperately behind in all of her classes.

"Good morning, Hermione," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling.  "Studying already?  Wouldn't you rather take a day off?"

Hermione gave him a look that said plainly that she knew he was joking.  "How are you, Sir?" she asked.

"Well, quite well," Dumbledore told her, pulling up a chair.  "But the big question is, how are you?"

"I'm remembering things now," Hermione told him.  "They're all…rather embarrassing."

"Well, from what Professor Snape has deduced, the potion you drank was one that lowered your inhibitions."

"That seems to fit with what I'm remembering," Hermione blushed.

"Well, in that case, I won't ask you to share your memories with me.  First of all, because it seems it would embarrass you," Dumbledore said, putting his chair away.

"Sir?" Hermione questioned.  "What's the second reason?"

"Oh, because I know all about what you've been doing for the past week anyway," Dumbledore said.  "Yes, yes, you made quite a stir.  Well!  I'm off now.  Good luck with your studies, Hermione." And with that, he was out the door.

Hermione, a little more unsettled, took out her diary and began to write.

Last Week Friday:

I remember being in Potions class.  We had finished our test, and were starting a quick potion to eat up the rest of the time left in class.  Neville was slopping all over the place as usual.

"Mr. Longbottom," Snape had said.  "Do you think it would be possible for you to keep yourself clean for one entire class period, instead of appearing like you've just come from rolling around in the muck like a common barnyard animal?"

I had laughed SO very hard at that.  The class fell silent.

"Does something amuse you, Miss Granger?" Snape had asked.  The entire room was deadly quiet.

I was still laughing.

"That was a fabulous remark, Professor," I had told him, gasping for air.

He had not been amused.

Last Week Saturday:

I remember that at about midnight on Saturday night, or it would be Sunday morning then, I had decided that I really wanted to go for a swim.  In the lake.  Oh yes, I, Hermione Granger, was breaking the rules. 

And I wasn't even being smart about it.  I had just put on my swim suit, and left.  I waltzed down to the lakeshore without anyone noticing me, and I hopped in.  I had been paddling around for about fifteen minutes before I heard footsteps falling on the pebbles near the shore.  They stopped, and I heard the sound of ice against a glass as someone took a sip of whatever they were drinking.

"Miss Granger," Snape had mocked, sipping his scotch.  "I've been waiting for this.  I finally get to expel one of the trio."

"You make us sound like a musical group," I had told him, climbing out of the water.  Snape paused in the middle of his drink.

"The blazing yellow and red polka dots look absolutely smashing on you," he drawled, scoffing in my general direction.

"That drink in your hand really brings out your personality," I had told him, not really understanding what that was supposed to mean, but I didn't really care.  I weaved a bit, and my footing became unsteady.

"Good gods," Snape murmured.  "You're smashed."

"I'm not," I said, my vision was blurring.

"I suppose expulsion will have to wait.  Let's get you up to the castle," he said, grabbing hold of my waist roughly and pulling me up the embankment.  I caught a whiff of his…cologne?  I wasn't sure if he had made himself smell like that on purpose, or if that had been an inadvertent product of spending time in the potions labs.

"You smell wonderful," I had said to him.  I felt his arm grow stiff around me.

"Stop talking," he had said.

"No, you really do," I insisted.  "I've always thought so.  You're really actually quite handsome up close."

"Have you always thought that, too?" he asked, mocking me.

"Yes," I told him earnestly. 

"Wonderful," he sighed.  "Please refer to my previous request, Miss Granger."

"Yes, Sir," I had murmured, and the subject was dropped, because I had passed out.

Last Week Sunday:

I was beginning to become worried about the fact that I was passing out more and more often.  Harry thought that it was because I was over extending myself.  He kept insisting that I needed a break. 

I took my books outside and sat under a tree.

I had been studying for an hour at least before I was interrupted by Malfoy. 

"Granger, studying on a Sunday?  I should have known."

"What do you want, Draco?" I asked him.  He sat down next to me.

"Just your sparkling wit and commentary," he told me, smirking.

"What do you want to talk about?" I asked, pushing my books aside.

"Uh…," Draco said, obviously being taken by surprise.  "I…don't care?"

"Okay," I said, going back to my books.

"Why aren't you with your friends?" he asked me.

"Why aren't you with your friends?" I asked him back.

"Sometimes your regular friends get…boring," Draco confided.  Then, realizing that he was talking to me, said, "Not that you ever get tired of Potter.  Who would EVER get tired of Potter?"

"They're not exactly scintillating company," I told him.

I think this was when we became friends.  Not good friends, mind you, he was still a Malfoy, but we sat under that tree and talked until Ron came over and chased him away.  He's really not that bad.  I hope we can still be friends.

Last Week Monday:

Classes went fine, as I remember, but I don't exactly remember what we were talking about.  I think I'm farther behind than I realized.

That night, however, I was on my way back out to the lake.  I don't understand why I was so interested in swimming, but I just was.  It was on my way down a staircase that I ran into Professor Snape, once again.  He was throwing ice cubes from his drink at a painting.  The wizard in it was shouting obscenities at him, before he dashed into another portrait, and finally out of sight.

"I never liked him," I told Snape, coming into his line of sight.

"Miss Granger, are you trying to make me expel you?" he asked.

"No, I just wanted to thank you for taking me to the infirmary a few days ago.  Madame Pomfrey didn't think anything was wrong though."

"Oh, I'm so terribly relieved.  I was on pins and needles waiting for your confirmation of good health."

"I thought so," I told him.  And then I did something that I will never, ever forgive myself for. 

I kissed Professor Snape.

I don't know why I did it, but the feeling had just come over me.  When I pulled away, we both looked at each other, and then we walked away from each other.  Well, I walked.  He kind of ran.  Oh gods.  What did I do?  I've had a crush on him for years now, but…I never wanted him to KNOW.  I am so embarrassed.

Last Week Tuesday:

This day, I remember, was more normal than the others.  All I did to embarrass myself on Tuesday was talk a little more loudly than usual, and laugh a little more loudly than before.  Nothing really too out of the ordinary.  Thank gods.

Last Week Wednesday:

This was the day I met another friend of mine, that I know realize was a friend, and…gods, I'm even rambling in my journal.  Anyway, I sat down finally and had a good talk with Terry Boot.  Terry is actually a really interesting kid.  Blond hair, blue eyes, he'd be incredibly…dreamy…except for the fact that he's missing his right leg.  People know he's the only crippled boy at Hogwarts, but no one ever talks to him.  It's like people forget he's there. 

I feel bad for him.  A lot of people do.  I mean, that leg was taken by a polar bear.  The same bear that got his parents, but…I don't know.  It's like sometimes he just disappears, and no one thinks about him until something bad happens to him.  A lot of bad things have happened to Terry.  We talked about for a couple of hours this Wednesday.  We talked about his grandparents, and his pot-bellied pig, and a lot of other things.  I really like Terry, but I don't know if we can ever be friends.  He's kind of flighty, and besides, he already has Lisa and Mandy.

Last Week Thursday:

This day was the day that the potion really took a turn for the worse.  It was like I was in a waking dream.  I remember being in Potions class, when suddenly, the cauldron Professor Snape was working on exploded.  When the smoke cleared, he was wearing hot pants, and Draco was standing near him yelling "Snape.  Snape?  Snape?!  Snape!" but he had this horrible lisp and he had this flaming pink hair. 

"Are you crazy?" I shouted at him.

"I'm obviously crazy, because you're not here," he retorted, cackling like a maniac.  His head turned a hundred and eighty degrees, and I screamed.  Suddenly, I was in the middle of downtown London, stark naked, and there in the middle of all the soot sat a lone banana on a grey rock.

"What's a banana doing here, Sir?" I questioned the invisible stranger.

When I came to, I was standing in the middle of the Charms classroom, and everyone was looking at me.

Hermione put down her journal, leaned back, and closed her eyes.  She must have dozed off, because she only opened her eyes when she heard the sound of a chair being dragged across the floor. 

It was Professor Snape.

"Hello," he said.  As Hermione looked at him, she noticed that his expression seemed a bit…softer. 

"Hi," she said.

"Professor Dumbledore has told me that you remember…things now," he said, looking at her.

"Yes, I do.  I…I'm sorry about…before," Hermione stuttered. 

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about," Snape said, shifting his weight on the chair.  "I think it would be best if we…just forgot about this entire week."

There was a silence as Hermione thought about this.

"I wasn't lying, you know.  I meant what I said," she told him. 

"I know.  That's why it would be best if we just forgot all about this.  It would be best for both of us," he said.

Hermione turned her head to look out the window.  She thought she might cry, and she didn't want Snape to see her.

"You know," Hermione said, after a little while.  "If this week happened during the quarter moon, I wonder what happens when there really is a blue moon."

Neither Hermione or Snape heard the door to the infirmly close.  Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore turned away from where they had been watching the two figures inside the infirmary, and started to head back to the Head Master's office.

"Young love," McGonagall said, chuckling.

"I think they'll realize eventually that destiny is a little harder to elude than they think," Dumbledore commented.

"Do you ever regret choosing your career over a family?" McGonagall asked candidly.

"No, my dear," Dumbledore told her.  "I have everything I need right here," he said, patting her hand.  McGonagall paused for a moment, and then gave Dumbledore a quick peck on the cheek.  It was the first time they had ever been that close.

As McGonagall turned to head to her private rooms, she heard Dumbledore call after her.

"Minerva, my dear, is there a particular reason I'm stuck to the floor?"

El Fin