The rapid scratching of her quill ceased. She stared incredulously at the piece of parchment for a moment. "Describe the proper method for dissecting a sopophorous bean to gain its juice." She remembered what chapter the information had been in of Advanced Potion Making (Chapter Two), what page it had been on (twelve), and where on the page it was located (bottom of the second paragraph). She knew exactly what the juice could be used in, how to extract it from an open bean... yet she didn't know the answer to the asked question.

This was something that had never happened to Hermoine Granger before. Everyone else was still busily scratching away at his or her final while she paused. Hermione only paused on a test if she had completed it. She really had no inkling as to the proper way of cutting open a sopophorous bean. Nibbling on the end of her quill, she searched feverishly through the filing cabinet of her brain for more information on that testy little bean causing her such vexation. She knew what color the juice was, and that, if applied to an open wound with pressure, most poisons would be drawn out.

Why didn't she know the answer? Thinking back to studying for potion finals, Hermoine pictured everything in her acute mind. Everyone had gone to sleep as she finished reviewing the first chapter of her textbook. She remembered it had been a little cool, so she had snuggled back into the soft, cushioned chair of the common room for warmth.

Shaking the reverie emphatically from her brain, Hermione's attention snapped back to her test. Panic began to set in. If she didn't know the answer, she might not receive top marks. Padma Patil or Susan Bones could outscore her. Her parents would be disappointed, her professors perplexed, Harry puzzled, Ron... Ron. Her mind vaulted her back into the armchair of the common room, where not everyone had been asleep. Someone had snuck up behind her, covered her eyes with his hands, made her guess his identity, and then surprised her with a midnight bottle of butterbeer. Together, she and her handsome, red-haired, freckled companion had shared the drink, discussing school, friends, and Romilda Vane's latest attempt to win Harry's heart, this time with an enchanted tea cozy. Then, as she was about to delve back into Chapter Two, page twelve, bottom of the second paragraph, he had pulled her close, and done what she had wished ever since she had met the soot-nosed boy on the Hogwarts Express so many years ago. He's kissed her. She dreamed, fantasized, and pictured the moment, but never before in her imagination had it been so perfect.

Returning once more to the present, with quill in fingers, parchment at hand, Hermione scanned the room and met Ron's eyes. He saw and smiled at her, and she decided soundly that some things were worth not knowing.