A/N: You might be thinking this sounds familiar to another work and you'd be right! I wasn't happy with where Histoire Eternelle was going so instead of being sensible and reworking it, I just scrapped it entirely. So, sorry if you liked that. It's funny because I started and published (on here) a similar story in 2012 too, but quickly trashed that as well. I clearly have been bestowed with many great ideas.


Hermione lurched awake as her train halted to a stop. A voice came over the loudspeaker indicating that she had reached her destination and it was time to disembark. Gathering her belongings, Hermione noticed that the book she had been reading was on the floor, its bookmark on the seat beside her. She sighed as she placed the book into her backpack and hoped she would be able to find her place later. Slinging her backpack over her shoulder, Hermione bent down to retrieve a cranky Crookshanks, whose cat carrier had been magically extended, but who nevertheless found reasons to complain.

Stepping onto the platform, Hermione glanced around at the people milling about the station. The faces passed into a blur until a familiar one caught her eye. From under judgemental brows peered a pair of obsidian eyes, which came to meet her own. Hermione's stomach began performing a series of acrobatic feats to rival the most talented gymnast. This was the last place she would expect to see him and his presence at the train station could only mean one thing. She knew she was supposed to walk towards the man, but her feet were not listening to her brain. The man, however, only seemed capable of looking straight through her. Finally Hermione was able to find some Gryffindor courage buried somewhere deep within her.

"Hello, sir. What brings you to this small station in provincial France?" she asked, praying it was not as she thought.

"I expected better from you, Miss Granger. Is my presence not a clear enough indication that we are to be working together?"

"Oh, I see. Madame Maxime never told me I would be getting an escort to the school."

"She was worried you would not be able to find your way," he said, walking away from her.

Hermione was silent. She expected no less from the Bat of the Dungeons. He was picking up pace and Hermione was struggling to keep up. Snape had not offered to help her carry her things and Crookshanks carrier kept hitting her leg while she jogged lightly. She was sure she would have a bruise there in the morning.

"Miss Gray, by the way. I'm sure the Headmistress informed you of my alias."

"I'll try to remember it to the best of my ability, though that may be too difficult a task for me," Snape said. Though Hermione could not see his face, the sneer was evident in his voice.

Snape stopped so abruptly that Hermione almost collided with him.

"Here is a good a spot as any to apparate," he said, extending his arm in her general direction.

Hermione interpreted this as an invitation to take it and was rewarded with a pulling sensation at her navel. When the world stopped spinning and Hermione felt the solid earth beneath her feet once more, she took the opportunity to check up on Crookshanks. Having confirmed that he was only mildly annoyed at her, Hermione looked up at the building before her. Beauxbâtons Academy of Magic was an expansive white marble château, perched above a cliff in the Pyrenees. While Hermione appreciated the ability to see the beautiful grounds, lush with flowering gardens, statues, and fountains, she wished Snape had apparated them closer to the front door. Although she supposed that even in this post-war period, there would still be wards around the school, preventing apparition.

Snape walked too quickly through the castle for Hermione to get a good look of her new home. She caught glimpses of even more marble, paintings in ostentatious frames, and copious windows-a lot more windows than Hogwarts had ever had. Hermione first assumed he was showing her to where she would be staying, but was now uncertain. They finally stopped in front of an ornately-carved, mahogany door to which Snape whispered something, presumably the password. The door swung open, its heaviness and ancientness evident in its creaking. Following Snape inside, she saw an abnormally large desk in front of an abnormally large chair. The carvings on the desk and chair seemed at first glance to match those on the door. Snape picked up Hermione's backpack and Crookshanks' cat carrier without a word and made them disappear with a flick of his wand. Hermione was about to protest when she realized they were being joined by a third person.

"Madame Granger, what a pleasure it is to meet you at last. Minerva had nothing but good things to say about you," the giantess said, sitting down. She gestured for Hermione and Snape to do the same.

Hermione felt a hot blush creep into her ears and cheeks, but the feeling dissipated when she heard Snape snort loudly beside her. Leave it to Professor Snape to remind Hermione to not take herself too seriously.

"Something funny, professor? If I'm not mistaken, you would also have had Hermione as a student. Was Minerva perjuring when she extolled this young woman's work ethic and aptitude for magic?"

"On the contrary, as someone who has read many essays written by Miss Granger, I can say you've made an excellent decision in choosing her to teach English," Snape said, putting particular snarl on the last word.

However Madame Maxime seemed to pay no mind to her old professor's comment.

"Madame Granger, I know I've hired you to teach English, but since the subject is more an elective than a requirement, I require your help in a second subject."

Hermione was surprised, but pleased to hear that she would be entrusted with the responsibility of teaching yet another course. She bet it was Arithmancy or Transfiguration, since those were some of her best subjects and surely Professor McGonagall would have mentioned this to the Headmistress. She also did not have to worry about co-teaching with Snape since he would have never allowed something like that to happen, though she supposed her colleague could be someone equally as unpleasant. Hermione shuddered to think of a person more unpleasant than he.

"You see," Madame Maxime continued, "Beauxbâtons not only accepts students from France, but also the Netherlands, Belgium, Luxembourg, Spain and Portugal. Many of these students have had some French-language education, but some come with no knowledge of French at all. I would like you to help these students learn French. You have some experience in that endeavor."

Crestfallen, Hermione labored to keep her face even, with a hint of a smile. But as her mind worked at its characteristically fast pace, Hermione realized to herself that she would be the most important teacher these students would have. If they did not learn French, they would not be able to learn their other subjects either. She still was not teaching a magical subject, but was helping children to learn not magic itself?

"We ask these students to come a year earlier than their Francophone peers. They spend part of the day receiving French lectures and the remainder shadowing older students from their respective home countries. What do you think?"

She had been reading books on teaching English as a foreign language but nothing about French, though she assumed the same principles applied. Luckily she still had several more weeks before term began to do sufficient research on the matter. Her teaching partner would also be of considerable assistance.

"I am honored… to have been given this position. I have only one question. With whom will I be teaching?"

"That would be me," Snape intoned.

Hermione bit her lip, fighting hide the displeasure which threatened to contort her mouth into a frown but she was relieved to see Madame Maxime was no longer looking at her, but at Snape.

"Professor Rogue, will you please show Mademoiselle Granger her office and then her quarters?" the giantess said, standing up.

Hermione had not even noticed that her former professor had left the office when she got up from her own chair. She had to dash from the room to catch up with him.

"Sir," she said, casting a Muffliato when she finally reached the man. "When were you planning to tell me that you were operating under a new name? I could've blown your cover!"

Snape crossed his arms. His look of annoyance was a plain as his hooked nose. It was then that Hermione noticed that he had cut his hair too. The black strands were less lank than she had remembered and appeared almost fluffy, but that may have been due to its shorter length.

"Do you, uh, have a different first name too?" she offered, hoping to propel the conversation forward.

Snape scoffed. Hermione could tell he was clearly miffed that he even had to show her around and now he was forced to stoop so low as to converse with her.

"We may both be teachers, Miss Granger, but do you really believe I would allow you to use my first name?"

"Professor Gray," Hermione corrected.

Snape looked around. "You put up this damn spell, what do you care if I call you the wrong name?"

"I want you to get used to it."

"Do you honestly think I, of all people, would, as you said it, 'blow your cover?'"

"Sorry, I did not mean to offend. I just-"

"Is there anything else you want to waste my time with? Can we be going now?"

Hermione undid the Muffliato and walked just behind the Potions Master, silently cursing her luck at being given the one position that would force her to work with Snape on a regular basis. She noticed that he was not dressed in all black, but rather a dark brown cloak. Hermione seemed to remember that he had been wearing a cravat still, as well as a waistcoat and a jacket. She cursed herself for not researching French Wizarding fashion further; she had no intention to stick out.

Her office was on the fifth floor in the south tower of the castle, furnished as elegantly as the rest of the castle and awash in light. Hermione's favorite part, however, were the floor to ceiling built-in bookshelves lining two of the four walls. Masking her glee, she nodded to Snape, indicating that she was ready to move on in their tour. The classrooms were on the floors below the offices. The language classrooms were clustered together which meant Hermione would not have to walk far between her French and English classes.

She did not want to dally too long in the rooms since her existence alone seemed to be trying enough for the poor man, but made mental note of where everything was for later investigation. Snape next led her to the east wing. The female teachers slept above the female students, while the male students and teachers slept in the west wing.

"This school does not segregate its students by such arbitrary traits as personality, especially since it only seems to sow unnecessary resentment between groups," he explained.

It was Hermione's turn to snort, albeit very quietly. Snape stopped in front of a non-descript, white door and Hermione was left to figure that this must be her quarters. She turned to thank her former professor, but he was nowhere to be seen. Hermione shrugged, equally thankful to be rid of him as he was of her.

Crookshanks ran to her as soon as she opened the door. She bent down to scratch his ears as he purred and rubbed against her legs.

"Hey, buddy, welcome to our new home."

This first room must be the living room, Hermione reasoned. There was an antique, pink loveseat and a coffee-brown leather wing-back chair surrounding a stone fireplace. The next room was her bedroom, which was furnished with a canopy bed, a matching dresser, wardrobe, and vanity. Hermione walked into the final room and found the bathroom, even more elegant than either of the other rooms, all marble and gold accents. The tub alone could be considered a swimming pool. Hermione was only a tiny bit disappointed there was no bookshelf within her rooms, but resolved to build herself one as soon as she was able.

Once Hermione had finished unpacking her clothes and piling her books into neat stacks in her bedroom. She was not overly fond of her white sheets, so she magicked them to a deep crimson. There were crimson accents in the gaudy blue and gold fleur-de-lis wallpaper that lined her rooms and she thought the color would be a good compromise between changing the interior entirely. It was not likely that anyone would see her bedroom, but Hermione wanted it to look nice, at least for herself. She relished the opportunity to exert some creative control over her living space, something she had yet to experience.

When she was finally mostly satisfied with her decorating, Hermione looked at the clock and realized it was almost time for dinner. Snape had not shown her where the dining area was, but being Hermione Granger, she was confident that she would be able to find her way. Catching her appearance in the vanity, Hermione recognized that she should change into something more elegant than a t-shirt and jeans. She chose a modest navy dress and white flats. There was not much she could do with her hair after she had had it almost entirely chopped off, but she thought a braided, gold headband might look nice with the rest of her outfit. Removing her glasses, she added a couple of swipes of mascara to her lashes. After she checked that nothing was in her teeth, she tucked her wand into a hidden pocket on the dress.

Closing the door behind her, Hermione felt her wards go up. Assuming the most likely place for a common eating room would be in the center of the castle, she walked in that direction.

"Wait up!" a feminine voice called to her, in French.

Hermione turned to see a blonde woman in a green dress walking briskly towards her.

"Professor Martin," she said, outstretching a hand, "but you can call me Béatrice."

"I'm-" Hermione responded in French before being interrupted.

"Let me guess, Professor Gray? You're the only new professor this year, so I figured."

"Yes, that's right, but you can me Jean," Hermione said, suddenly self-conscious of her voice and her French.

"Well, Jean, were you going to dinner? I was just coming to get you. I didn't know if anyone had told you about meal times and I'm sure it would be better to go in at least knowing one person," she said, smiling warmly.

Béatrice was a slower walker than Snape which afforded Hermione a better opportunity to admire the castle. She was a better tour guide too and offered up details about artwork, which Hermione absorbed with relish. Her eagerness was clearly not lost on Béatrice.

"Most teachers here were students of Beauxbâtons themselves so they know all of this stuff already. In fact, there's only one other teacher who didn't attend school here-Professor Rogue. If I'm not mistaken, he studied at Durmstrang. And you at Hogwarts, right?"

Hermione merely nodded, wondering what new things she would learn about "Professor Rogue" next.

The rest of the staff was already seated when the two arrived at the dining hall. The hall was a two-story circular room. At the center was a round table large enough to seat all of the teachers. Madame Maxime sat at the extra large chair exactly opposite the entrance. Hermione looked up and was greeted to the sight of a ceiling made entirely of windows. These windows were less magical than the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall at Hogwarts but Hermione supposed they more or less accomplished the same job.

Béatrice took the seat beside a tall, dark-haired witch, which left Hermione to sit beside a broad wizard. She was thankful to sit anymore but beside the Potions professor.

"Now that we are gathered here, I think introductions are in order. Professor Gray, would you please stand up?"

Hermione did as she was bid and felt her ears become hot.

"This is Professor Jean Gray and she is going to be teaching English as well as French with Professor Rogue."

The other teachers clapped while Hermione sat back into her chair too quickly.

"You didn't tell me you would be teaching French too!" Béatrice said, still clapping. "I guess you will get to know Professor Rogue really well. He's nice; you'll like him."

Hermione was sure this woman had Snape confused for someone else but dared not say anything. She was not supposed to know him at all.

When the applause had ceased, the broad-shouldered wizard turned to her, offering his hand.

"Hello, Sébastien Clairmont. I teach Potions," he said, his blue-green eyes twinkling.

They shook hands, but Hermione was thinking of Snape. Had he finally achieved his dreams of teaching Defense?

"How could I be so rude?" Béatrice said. "I forgot to tell you what subject I teach-Defense Against the Forces of Evil. Do they have that at Hogwarts?"

Hermione opened her mouth to answer, but the dark-haired witch beside Béatrice piped up.

"Of course they do! Don't you remember reading about their war in the paper with what's-his-name?"

Hermione assumed they dared not speak his name for the same reason as the British wizards, but this was not the first time she was wrong today.

"Foldort, right?" Béatrice said, with too much surety.

"No, I think you mean Maldenord," the dark-haired witch responded.

"Voldemort," Sébastien corrected, smiling at Hermione as he said it.

"That's it. I knew it was something stupid."

"Leave it to the Anglophone to sully the French language," the dark-haired witch said. However when she looked at Hermione, she quickly added, "No offense."

Béatrice looked at Hermione with wide eyes, "I'm sorry if we're making light of a dark part of your past."

"No, it's fine," Hermione said, keeping her face even, "he disappeared when I was too young to understand and only returned after I had graduated from Hogwarts and moved to the United States."

"Did you ever meet the boy who survived, then? Harold Porter?" the dark-haired witch inquired, not looking up from her wine glass.

"He was a couple of years behind me, but I didn't know him, no." Hermione knew her years of stress and antics with the Time-Turner lent credence to the idea that she was older than Harry.

"That's enough questions, Phœbé. She's clearly uncomfortable," Béatrice said, giving Hermione an apologetic glance.

"No, it's fine, really," Hermione said, probably smiling much too broadly.

"You haven't even been properly introduced and you're already harassing the poor woman! Jean, this is Phœbé Laurier. She's teaches History of Magic. As you can tell, she's quite bad at modern history."

"Recent events haven't even been added to the textbooks yet! What do you expect?" Phœbé said, pouring herself more wine.

After they had finished eating, Hermione had to stick around to be introduced to all of the professors and their myriad of subjects. Beauxbâtons offered more courses than Hogwarts, including, classes in wand making and lore, the classical languages, and economics. Not to mention the variety of electives from the physical-archery and ballet, to the artistic-oil painting and sculpture.

"Jean, this is the professor I was telling you about, Professor Rogue," Béatrice said, practically dragging Hermione over to Snape. "He's going to be your partner in knowledge!"

"Indeed," Snape said, in a not unfriendly manner.

"And what other subject do you teach, Professor Rogue?" Hermione asked, mimicking his polite tone.

"German," he responded.

Hermione was unsure how to respond. She felt like she was missing the joke. While she had already met the professors for Potions and Defense, his preferred subjects, she knew the man was capable in many other magical fields. At least she assumed he was. Then again, his knowledge of German would fit with his supposed Durmstrang education. Viktor had told Hermione a bit about the school and that German was the chosen lingua franca.

"Jean, where has your mind wandered off to? Professor Rogue just asked you a question!"

"Huh?" Hermione said, her eyes refocusing onto her conversation partners. "Oh, sorry. What were you saying?"

"How are you finding our school so far?" Snape asked, without a trace of annoyance in his voice.

"It's lovely. And everyone here has been so accommodating and welcoming."

"I would expect nothing less from my esteemed colleagues."

Béatrice giggled beside Hermione. Meanwhile Hermione herself was looking around the room, desperate to find someone else for the blonde witch to introduce herself to.

"Your French is nearly flawless, Professor Gray, but do I detect a bit of an accent?"

"She's from England!" Béatrice blurted out. "But you've spent considerable time in the United States, isn't that right?"

Hermione nodded, content to have her companion answer for her from now on.

"America? How interesting. What did you do there?" Snape asked, to her chagrin.

Cursing herself for not fleshing out her "Jean" backstory more, Hermione went with the only idea she had.

"I was a student. At Harvard," she said with as much conviction as she could muster.

"Harvard, eh? I did not realize I was in the presence of a genius. What did you study?" Snape asked, arching a brow.

"English," Hermione ad-libbed.

"How silly of me. Why would I expect an English teacher to have studied anything else?" Snape paused and gave her a pointed look. "Forgive my curiosity, but what did you do after you finished your degree? Presuming you did, of course."

"I came here."

"It took you eight years to get your degree?" Béatrice interjected, more curious than judgmental.

"Well, you see, I didn't just get what is known in the American Muggle world as a 'bachelor's' but also a 'master's' and a 'PhD.'"

"You got your PhD from Harvard and you're teaching English to magical children in France?" Snape was apparently amused because he was grinning, a rare sight.

"Yes, well you know what they say about English majors."

Béatrice, clearly lost by all this talk of the Muggle higher education system, said, "No. What do they say?"

Hermione was about to explain the joke to her colleague, when Snape interrupted. "I don't want to take up anymore of your precious time, ladies." He turned to Hermione. "It was nice to meet you, Dr. Gray."

While Hermione was pleased that interaction was over, Béatrice seemed positively giddy.

"I told you he was nice. Although he seemed especially friendly today," the blonde said with an exaggerated wink.

"What are you implying?" Hermione asked, fearing the other woman's response.

"He likes you!"

"Don't be silly. Men can be friendly without it meaning anything more."

"Oh, how do you know? Are you a master of legilimency or something?"

"No, just trust me."

"Well, don't forget you'll be working together all year, so that will allow plenty of time for this," Beatrice said, pointing between Hermione and Snape's disappearing figure.

Hermione, however, did not need reminding.


A/N: In this universe, Voldemort wasn't seen as much of a threat in France, so less people knew about him. I mean did JK ever talk about Voldy and France? No? Ergo, no one really knew what was going on in the UK. Let me know how dumb that sounds in the comment section down below.