Hermione takes a steadying breath in the lull, trying to steady the tremor in her hand as she picks the stirring rod up once more. She has no idea what point in the process they are at, and notes the tables around her are entirely finished with their potion preparation, having moved onto the heating phases. Hermione has a different—and far more urgent—heat simmering away low in her belly, whining for attention. She shifts in her stool, clearing her throat in embarrassment.