It was that time of year where the snow had begun to melt and fade away. Leaving the air warmer and the greenery brighter than every other time in the year. This was the best time of year, or at least it was to Hermione Jean Granger. It felt like everything was erupting once more, escaping from the cold grasp of frost. Flowers bloomed, growing up and once again filling the world with color.

It almost seemed poetic.

After so many years of war, very few things brought the young witch peace. The changing of seasons, the fading of cold in favor of warmth was one of those things. It helped to remind the war-scarred woman of the reason they had all fought so hard. Sacrifice was worth it, if one could only focus on things like this.

That was why Hermione was found sitting outside, bundled up in a brown jacket; one that was far too large for her. An old gray scarf adorned her neck, a cup of tea sat to the side of her, and long fingers held an old muggle book. Everyone at 12 Grimmauld Place knew she preferred to be left alone at times like these. It usually meant her mind was too busy and she would grow easily frustrated with people who insisting on holding a conversation with her.

It wasn't that she didn't appreciate the genuine concern and love they had for her; more that sometimes her mind was more easily tackled on her own. The war had changed them all at least a little bit, and the worries that most often plagued her mind were not things she felt the need to place on the shoulders of another. It was their fault that the war had left her a changed woman, for that matter, it wasn't even her own fault. The issue remained though, and she couldn't seem to find a way to explain to them that she simply wasn't the same muggleborn girl from before.

Sighing, Hermione flipped the page of her book. It had been read enough that her mind could float to other things and she could still appear to be reading normally. To anyone who was watching, she'd simply be keeping to her normal routine rather than desperately trying to keep her thoughts from driving her stir crazy.

At twenty-two years old, Hermione held a low clearance position at the Ministry of Magic as a secretary for the Werewolf Support Services. It was far below her skill level and everyone knew it—but the work was steady and it had given her time to finish her N.E.W.T.S. while also helping to rebuild the wizarding world after the fall of Voldemort. Now with the completion of her N.E.W.T.S., she was left at an impasse. She could continue in her current position and hope for chance of promotion, or go another direction entirely.

It was nearly ironic that both Harry and Ron had more direction than her. Harry had completed his Auror training, while Ron had chosen to help his brother at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes and found that he had quite a mind for business. Both were flourishing in their current positions and Hermione almost found her jealous of that. She'd always thought she'd have her life figured out, though it seemed that simply wasn't the case.

Already she felt frustrated with herself at the thought and abruptly closed her book. It was stupid of course, she was young and she had time to figure it all out. The only issue with that was the simple fact that she'd always been the one who'd had her head screwed on straight. The one who knew exactly what to do and when to do it.

Deciding it was better to leave her thoughts where they were, Hermione rose from her seat and turned to enter back into the house that had become her home in recent years. Pulling open the door to the kitchen, she stepped in and turned his eyes to look on the guests who were seated just past the kitchen and at the long table that had once held meetings for the Order of the Phoenix. Harry was sitting there, looking tired and wearing some old sweats. She saw long red hair and assumed it was Ginny, but Ron's hair had also begun to gain quite a length.

Only there was a voice that didn't fit any of those described and she found herself moving closer to investigate. Once she was into the room fully she spied Minerva McGonagall, emerald green robes and black pointed hat, sitting stiffly in her chair with a cup of warm tea before her. Even if the woman looked rather stern by the way she was sitting, Hermione could see the affection in her eyes and hear it in her voice as she talked to both Harry, and the ginger she could now see was Ron.

In the next moment, the woman had turned to look at Hermione, her eyes immediately moving to the place on her face that Hermione knew was a very jagged scar. She cursed herself for not applying a glamour charm before investigating the current company. When it was just her and the boys, she felt no need to extend her magic to hide her scars. It could grow taxing if done all day and the two men had grown used to the damage that had been done to her years before. Minerva, however, had never been privy to Hermione without the glamour spells. At least not since the time she'd spent in Saint Mungos after the completion of the final battle.

"Professor—What a pleasant surprise." The girl opted for extending an unshaken response to the company. Deciding that the shock of the scar that ran across her right eyebrow just past the edge of her eye, would fade if she pretended that she wasn't bugged by it. Even if she most certainly was. It felt like a show of everything that had been taken from her.

Minerva turned, a soft smile on her face as she gestured for the girl to sit, "Hermione, I came to see you. I was just told by the riff raff here that you were not to be bugged when you were outside with a book." She turned to eye up Ron, whose ears had turned a sudden shade of bright red.

The young witch smiled, "As much as I'd like to send them shaming stares, I believe we all know that I tend to be a little testy when my reading is interrupted." She could easily play it off as a joke in order to diffuse any tension. It was easier to act normal when you played the part.

"That I can believe." Minerva chuckled softly. "Sit, please. We have something to discuss." She turned to look at Ron and Harry then. "Alone." She emphasized.

Looking as if they were interrupting into something private, Ron stood abruptly, followed by Harry after her had placed a hot cup of tea in front of Hermione. Prepared just the way she preferred it. If anything, Harry could be incredibly thoughtful when he wanted to be. Taking a soft sip from the mug, she stayed quiet until she placed it back to the wooden table. "I almost feel as if I have been summoned to the headmaster's office, professor."

Again, the humor made its appearance, and Hermione supposed it was almost a way to shield her real thoughts and feelings. "It's just like that, Hermione, I'm actually here on Hogwarts business."

That confused Hermione, "Don't tell me it's some bizarre issue with my N.E.W.T.S." Doubtful, as they had been completed over a year ago.

Minerva waved her hand as if to dismiss the thought, "Of course not, your scores are still as high as they were before." She snorted softly, a sound that Hermione was sure she'd never heard come from her former professor. It was strangely human. "I have heard that you've recently completed your final reconstruction initiative and rumor has it that you might be looking for greener pastures."

The young witch nodded, "I suppose that might be the case. Though if I am being honest, I haven't decided myself."

"I see." Hummed Minerva. "Would you consider taking up a teaching apprenticeship at Hogwarts?"

The question was posed in such a nonchalant way that Hermione nearly spit out her tea in shock. She would have expected such a question to come with a much more serious demeanor, rather than the perfect picture of relaxation that she was met with. The Hogwarts headmaster lifted her tea then and took a sip, not betraying the fact that she was waiting for a response.

"Me… Teaching?" She had never considered that as a way her life would go, though apparently things continued to change for her.

"Yes." Minerva set down her tea cup then. "Professor Vector has made it known that she intends to retire after this year, and rather than spend months trying to find a suitable replacement, I believe it would be better if one trained directly beneath the woman. If I remember correctly, you had a great love for Arithmancy."

Hermione nodded then, "Yes—I did." She paused for a moment before continuing, "Though I don't believe I would be the most suitable of teachers."

"Why ever not?"

"I've never been incredibly patient."

Shaking her head then, the professor smiled, "You are best friends with two of the most frustrating students I've ever dealt with. I doubt there are many more students who will cause you more grief than those two ever did.

Hermione found herself compelled by that point, she'd never thought of it like that. Ron and Harry had been in her life for so long, she'd forgotten about just how difficult they could be. They had definitely made her life harder, though now it seemed just like an everyday occurrence.

"Don't answer now." The woman interjected then. "I've made my point and both you and I were never one for long-winded pitches. I believe it better if I take my leave now." The woman stood then and Hermione found the only thing she could do was stare up at the face of her former professor. A face she found that she missed.

Clearing her throat, Minerva nodded, "I will expect an owl within the week." And with that, the professor was sweeping from the room, leaving Hermione sitting in her chair with a full cup of tea and a dumbfounded look on her face.

Hermione choose to not inform the boys of why Minerva had been there. She'd simply told them that the professor had wanted to discuss her N.E.W.T. scores, and the boys had shut up about it from then on. Choosing to not subject themselves to more conversation about school. They'd both chosen not to return for a reason after all.

Harry had been the first to retire that night, no doubt exhausted as he most often was. Hermione was sure she'd heard the floo go off sometime later in the evening and would not be surprised to find Ginny snuggled into Harry's bed with him. Ron was the next to go, though not to bed but into the fireplace to floo to the Leaky Cauldron. Hermione knew she should go to her room before he returned with a witch that she didn't know.

It was always awkward to be caught up in that situation.

Now in the confines of her room, Hermione found the time ticking by her quicker than she would have liked. Sleep was hard to come by anymore and it was especially hard to come by that night. The young witch couldn't stop thinking about the proposition given to her by her former professor.

It was purpose, though not something she would have ever considered on her own, it pushed her towards something rather than left her stagnant. It would get her out of her comfort zone, push her to try something she never would have before. It would maybe help her find herself once more; away from the prying eyes of well-meaning friends. There was no way that she couldn't accept.

Standing then, Hermione moved to her desk and found a blank piece of parchment. She scrawled her response in her neat handwriting.

Headmaster,

I am pleased to accept your offer to be an apprentice to Professor Vector in the field of Arithmancy. Please send further information when is first convenient for you. I look forward to further correspondence.

Sincerely,

Hermione Jean Granger

Attaching it to the leg of Harry's owl, she sent the creature off to Hogwarts, caring little what hour it was in that moment. Better to get it over with before she thought too much of what she had just accepted and suddenly changed her mind. It was done, and now she would live with her decision.