It was much too late for this.

Hermione's long brown hair fell loose over her shoulder, she had unbuttoned the top two buttons of her mauve blouse and her lipstick-stained mug had held one too many cups of coffee. She normally didn't drink coffee, but she had been up late most nights that week, and she was struggling to keep from dozing off with her head resting on her hand.

Her lamp lit her small office, with the rest of the dark floor visible through her open door and the soft shifting of paperwork filling her office. Her curriculum was almost finalized, and while her fellow faculty members expected her to take the first week of classes for introductions, she was determined to take advantage of every second she had with her new students.

Although Hermione was indeed very thorough, she had ulterior motives for this specific night of organization and focus.


Hermione trudged into her common room after three a.m., her long hair frizzed into a full mane and her heels kicked off by the portrait. She walked to her room as quietly as possible, casting a cautious glance at the door opposite her own and slipping inside her own.


Lifting her head off the pillow, she smoothed back her hair and got off her too large bed to walk over to her closet. She buttoned up a dusky blue dress shirt over her black slacks, but was unable to find her shoes.

Too sleepy to remember her current predicament, she walked out of the door with her eyes searching the floor to find an unsettling sight.

Her eyes dragged up his long legs, currently clad in silk forest green pajama bottoms, and contrasting quite nicely with the pale skin of his muscular back. The skin looked smooth, with the curves of his muscles only interrupted by the occasional freckle or scar.

He was standing over the stove, gently shifting the black pan over the flame and drinking water with his unoccupied hand. His light hair looked soft in the morning sun, a fact that she really couldn't afford to be thinking.

This last thought snapped her out of her trance, and she flinched backwards, hoping to sneak back into her room before he noticed her appearance.

"Your shoes are by the door, princess."

She winced and turned back around. He had yet to turn around, but she could hear his smirk loud and clear.


"Welcome to Defense Against the Dark Arts. I am Professor Granger, and this is Professor Malfoy."

Hermione stood in front of a class of Fourth Year students, her side of the desk stacked high with papers and books. Draco leaned against the desk behind her, his arms crossed in front of his chest and his face neutral. He lazily examined his students, his posture opposite of the prim and focused woman in front of him.

"This class will be dedicated to defensive magic theory and spells, and there will be the special introduction of physical combat and strategy to the course. The first few lessons will be a series of tests to ascertain what areas you need to work on as a class, and today is the first exam.

These exams will not count towards your final grades; they are merely for the purpose of tailoring the curriculum to your needs. Are there any questions?"

No hands went up. Hermione gave a minute for any shy students to speak up, but the silence continued.

"Alright, today is dueling."


Once again, Hermione sat in her office late at night. Her fingers shook lightly from the caffeine and she winced at the bitter taste of her coffee. She preferred tea.

If only her favorite tea bags weren't currently in the top cupboard in her shared kitchen.

Hermione had been living with Draco for a few days, but only saw him once, that morning. Aside from that hint about her shoes, they hadn't spoken, and she was delaying the inevitable. She knew it was immature to avoid him, but she couldn't bring herself to face her old enemy.

So here she sat, in her small office crowded with texts and scrolls, pouring over materials she could use in lectures months in the future, and fastidiously ignoring her silent roommate.


Blinking blearily at the rising sun through her window, she picked up her head and stretched. It had been a few years since she had last fallen asleep on a desk, and although she was only twenty, her back was stiff and her neck cracked.

Her eyes focused on the corner of her desk.

Sitting perfectly innocently with a puff of steam rising from it was a cup of tea.

It was green.