Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, and no copyright infringement is intended; not making any money, but they are fun to play with.
A/N: This is not betat, but I hope you can enjoy it anyway. Let me know what you think^^
Pixies, Potions and Portraits
„Holy hell," Hermione cursed loudly and ducked behind something which may have been a couch in another life. The leftovers were scabby, rotten and barely enough to hide behind. With a loud bang a big old vase shattered beside her into thousands of tiny pieces.
She swore to herself that the two trouble makers who were responsible for all of this, would serve detention till the end of the term. Snape's detention would look like a picnic camp compared to what she had in store for those two! Hermione was by no means a stern or unfair teacher, but Monroe King and Damion Purcy were testing her patience. She loved the charming and clever boys, like most of the staff, but enough was enough!
The funny thing about those two was that Monroe was a Gryffindor while Damion had been sorted into Slytherin house. Even years after the war, where inter house activity had increased, it was still somewhat of an exceptional friendship. Both houses had been rivals for so long that it seemed strange to see those two sticking together every day.
Unfortunately both of them had figured out that they could achieve the most mischief if they combined their house qualities. Where one was cunning, sly and quick-witted the other was clever, brave and strong-minded.
Together they were a hell of a plague.
A very charming, funny and intelligent plague. Normally they managed to sweet talk themselves out of trouble or at least get away with a few firm words and an evening of detention. But not this time Hermione thought grimly, as she dodged another object that came flying in her direction. It missed but barely.
Much like the Weasley twins the boys loved to experiment with potions and spells which had been the cause for some monumental chaos. Hermione knew for sure that George and Fred were their biggest fans and helped them where they could much to her chagrin.
This time Damion and Monroe decided to test one of their new products on the pixies which she used in her second year class. And now the little monsters where able to change their appearance like a Chameleon. As if they were not trouble enough without that!
Normally a simple Immobilus would be enough to disable them but she had to hit them with the spell to do that. The fact that they were nearly invisible made the whole thing a little bit difficult! Nine where already back in their cage. Two where stuck in Draco's Potion lab in one of the cages he normally used for his experiments, one was transfigured into a cup, another into a teapot which was constantly changing its color and the last three...were making her day a living hell.
She had tracked them down to one of the many forgotten store rooms of Hogwarts, which was not very difficult as Hermione simply had to follow the mess they left behind.
Now she was in an old, dusty room which contained a great deal of furniture, portraits and a vast variety of boxes. Or in short: A paradise for pixies.
Everywhere was something they could throw in her direction and they would scream in delight every time something shattered into a million pieces.
Slowly she peaked around the backrest and scanned the room as good as possible. The muttering portraits, which were awoken out of their slumber did not help her in the slightest. Cursing inwardly she asked herself, why in Merlin's name she had allowed Minerva to coax her into taking over the position as teacher against the dark arts.
From all the classes she had, it was her worst, when you would describe an E as bad, that is. Of course she knew how to defend herself and after the battle of Hogwarts there was nobody who would say otherwise, but still...
Harry was the one who defeated Voldemort but she had earned herself quite a dubious name for being the one who killed more Death Eaters than anybody else in the last battle.
As if killing was something glorious which deserved handshakes and fame. Yes she had been prepared to kill and sadly she had been forced to use the two feared words but that did not mean she wanted a medal for it.
Hermione had seen what happened to Remus after Dolohov had been able to free himself from the magic bounds, Professor Binns had hexed him with. The Death Eater had no qualms about killing the kind and gentle werewolf. Leaving Tonks and little Teddy behind. That was the moment where Hermione had sworn herself to use everything she had to prevent others from losing loved ones. And if that meant she had to live with the burden of being a killer she would accept it.
They had been in war and there was no place to play nice.
So she killed.
The first one to fall had indeed been Dolohov who tried to kill a group of forth years that had secretly stayed behind to fight. Hermione tried to tell herself till this day, that she had not enjoyed his death. That she had not felt pleased that her former tormentor and Remus murderer died from her hand. She had done it to save lives not out of revenge. But there was still a little nagging voice in her head that told her otherwise. The same voice that asked her every now and then if she was okay with the fact, that it had been Molly Weasley who killed Bellatrix and not herself.
After Dolohov there had been: Yaxley who was crushed by a big rock, Travers who was killed by a modified slicing curse, Mulciber who was hit by his own Avada curse, thanks to a reflection charm and finally the LeStrange brothers who were trying to kill Draco for being a traitor. She tried not to think about the brothers and what had happened. It was only important that they were dead and she was not. She survived, as did Draco.
After the battle was over and their fallen had been mourned the parties had started. For days all that people had done was singing, drinking and praising the downfall of the Dark Lord. Hermione had not felt the need to party. In fact she had not felt anything. She was just...empty. Though she understood the need of others to express joy over Voldemort's destruction, she could not find it in herself to be happy. So many had died. So many lives were lost and she had killed some of them. It was not that she could not live with that, but she did not want the press to call her a hero for being a killer.
Other as Ron and Harry, she returned to finish school after the war. Both of her friends had signed the Auror program and she was happy for them. Of course they could not understand her decision and after some time she stopped trying to explain her reasons. She never wanted to be in a situation where she had to kill again.
She made her exams with flying colors. Better than anybody else in the last three hundred and forty seven years to be exact. Hermione had more job offers than she could count but was not interested in any of them.
All of them wanted her only for one reason: Her status as a war heroine. Member of the golden trio, destructor of a horcrux, the witch who killed six death eaters – one even without her wand.
She did not want that, so when Minerva offered her the position as a teacher she said yes. That was six years ago and all in all Hermione was happy here. Draco had surprisingly accepted the position as potion teacher three years ago, after receiving his master and Hermione was glad about it, if a bit envious.
The teachers for potions had changed as quickly as for DADA in her school days and Hermione was sure, Snape had been spinning in his grave before Draco finally took over.
The former bane of her existence had changed since the war. So much that even Ron and Harry could not deny it. The three of them were still not very fond of each other but they tolerate themselves for her sake.
These days Draco and she were much closer than she was with Ron and Harry. Sometimes she asked herself how that could have happened, but the Slytherin seemed to understand her better than any of her other friends. Maybe it was their shared fondness for potion and the fact that they could hold an interesting conversation about a great variety of topics.
They even worked together on some potions projects. Although she was no potion mistress she had a thing for the subject and Draco was more than happy to let her help him now and then. Together they had created and merchandised some very useful, and popular potions so that she would never have to worry about money again.
She loved creating new things. The challenge of a new project was something she would not want to miss in her life. Her mind craved intellectual stimulation as much as her body craved food.
A shrill scream ripped her out of her thoughts. Her head whipped around and she was barely able to dodge out of the way. A second later an old tea set shattered beside her.
"Immobilus!" She cried, though Bombada lay on her lips.
She missed it by an inch, but she aimed a second time with more success. Within seconds she had transfigured a table into a cage and locked the pixie away.
One down. Two more to catch.
Only a second later both pixies attacked her with everything they could grip. Vases, boxes, chairs and a lot of undefinable trash flew in her direction. In her haste to get out of the line of fire she stumbled and smashed her left hand into the shards of a former teapot.
"Outch!" She cried and snatch her hand away, but it was too late the blood was already spilling down her palm. Though it looked probably worse than it was it ached like hell.
Two flickering blue forms were hovering above her, apparently the potion was losing its effect, but before she was able sigh with relief a hail of objects found their way down.
Without a second thought she jumped over the couch and ducked her head. The amount of trash seemed to find no end at first, but after a while it slowed down a bit and Hermione used her chance to get out of her hiding and start to attack.
"Impedimenta!"
The curse hit one of them with full force. Realizing she was about to get the upper hand the last pixie tried to flee, but Hermione would have none of it. "Oh no, you nasty little monster!"
Hurriedly she got to her feet again, smudging everything she touched with blood. She did not care. She was fed up with all of this! Hermione wanted nothing more than a nice hot bubble bath and afterwards a hot tee while she was reading one of her old books for the twentieth time.
Hunting pixies in dusty spare rooms and cutting her fingers was not very high of her activity list for the evening.
Stumbling through the mess of old furniture and passing even older portraits, who were all commenting on her less than spectacular performance, Hermione yelled another Immobilus at the pixie. She failed miserably and as if that was not enough she failed to see the coiled up carpet in front of her. With a loud BANG she hit the floor.
"Why me?!" She muttered miserably and ignored a praising description of her butt from one of the portraits. Really she wanted to walk out of here with some dignity left.
Somehow Death Eaters seemed to be a walk in the park compared to those blue skinned spawns of hell. Now she knew why pixies were categorized as dark creatures. And like any other good little dark coward the pixie used her momentary situation for its benefit. It did not hesitate a moment to attack her again.
The first box hit her square in the back and she gave a moan of protest, which was totally ignored. Groaning she rolled around her wand tightly in her hand. But before she could do anything the next box flew towards her. At the last second she was able to dodge it. Something that sounded like glass shattered behind her.
And from the muffled curses, she guessed it hit a portrait.
The next thing that came towards her was a small chair, but Hermione had enough. Ignoring her arching back, throbbing left hand and the fact that her new robes where sprinkled with blood she got up.
"Bombada!" She yelled and the chair exploded with an impressing impact. The air was slightly crackling around her, like every other time when she was seriously angry. Situations like that left no doubt over her amount of magical power. It was practical palpable. After the final battle it had been so extreme that Harry was the only one who dared to touch her.
"Immobilus!"
This time she hit her mark and before it or its likewise immobilized friend could somehow escape her, she banned them into the cage with the first one.
Maybe now she would be able to enjoy a hot bubble bath. The moment she heard an odd hissing behind her, she knew that it would not be happening any time soon.
"A nasty temper that one, but still a nice butt, I will say!"
"Oh really!" Another voice huffed. "Is that all you can think about?"
"Oh be quiet, Sal! You thought the same, I saw you looking. You're only too stuck up to confess it!"
Before Sal had the chance to say something, she twirled around and found herself in front of two men who had not been there a moment ago.
"How in Merlin's name did you get-" She stopped in the middle of her question.
Hermione had learned to watch for details and scan her surrounding during the war, and teaching a classroom full of teenager had only increased that ability.
Most people would not look above the obvious. In this case the two very good looking wizards in somewhat old-fashioned robes, but her eyes fell instantly on the portrait frame behind them. A very empty portrait frame, sprinkled with blood and two very large holes in it. Her eyes did not miss the broken bottles on the floor, which must have been in one of the boxes the pixies had thrown her way.
Oh, oh!
Hermione's eyes swept back to the men who were looking quite intensely at her. Well the left one was, the one in the crimson robes beside him was plainly checking her out. He possessed a middle-height, strong build and somewhat unruly red-brown hair which was hanging loosely around his handsome smiling face.
She had the odd feeling that she had seen him before.
His brown eyes where twinkling in amusement and he had the gall to waggle his eye-brows in a very salacious way, when he noticed her eyes on him.
Instead of hexing him she turned towards the other one, who appeared the complete opposite. This one was tall, lean and attractive in dark sensual way. Like his friend his robes were old fashioned but of a dark green color, which nearly seemed black in the dim light of the room. His midnight black hair was neatly pulled back to a braid and reviled a pair of disturbingly green eyes which were examining her so intensely, that she felt the need to step back.
Instead of giving into that urge she glared right back at the foreign wizard and for a mere second she thought she saw an approving smile on his lips. But it was gone as quick as it had appeared and left him with an undetectable expression.
He too reminded her of someone.
Her brain needed a second to compare the facts, which lay or better stood in front of her with the ones that were hidden in the back of her mind. Deep in a corner of her brain, which included some memories of Professor Binns class, she found pictures of famous wizards and witches.
No it could not be. It was just plain and simple impossible. But still, Hermione had to ask.
"May I ask for your names?"
"How could I say no to such a charming, beautiful witch like you my dear?" The one in the red robes purred at her and this time she stepped back, which forced an amused snort out of the other one.
"Seems like your charms aren't what they once where! I fear that you're losing your touch."
"Ah, don't be silly! She is probably just overwhelmed by my good looks and perhaps a little bit shy!"
"If you say so!" The dark haired wizard shrugged it off, but did not look convinced. All the while he was looking directly at her and not for the first time Hermione felt the urge to hide form such intensity. Raising her chin she lifted one of her eye brows in a challenging manner and waited. She was not so sure how she managed to look so calm and relaxed. She certainly did not feel relaxed!
"Oh, where are my manners!" The right one smiled and grabbed her hand before she could protest. "Godric Gryffindor at your service, madam!" Again he wiggled his eye brows in a manner that she did not like in the slightest, before he continued. "The moody swot beside me is Salazar Slytherin. Or Sally if you like!" Hermione stared at him as if he had grown a second head, while Sally simply growled in his direction.
"And which name, would grace a beautiful witch like you?"
Hermione knew the day could not be good the moment she had fallen out of bed this morning and later burned her tongue on her tea. Her suspicion had been proved over the pixie incident but now...
Now she had the ultimate proof that this day was literally fucked up!
She was sure it would be a long time before she would get the opportunity, to think about a nice hot bubble bath and a relaxing book.
"Hermione," she answered in a breathless voice, while she thought about how in the name of Voldemort's rotting body she could possibly explain all this to Minerva.
"Hermione Granger!"
TBC (as soon as I find time and inspiration...not necessary in that order, so it might take me awhile.)