Hmmmmmmmmmmmmm ... I don't know how I feel about this chapter. Seriously, I don't. I don't even know what I mean by I don't know how I feel about it. But from the moment I finished typing it out, I have questioned whether I should delete it. Why? I have no idea. Thus, the hmmmmmmmm ...

Oh well, I hope you are not as torn about it as I am. Enjoy ... hopefully :/

- Chapter Two -

Properly Improper

As the new term began, it was, in many ways, almost as if the previous term had never ended. There was always something, even when there was nothing. This time it was Draco Malfoy and his odd behavior at Borgin and Burkes in Knockturn Alley. While Hermione was not entirely on the same page with Harry and Ron, it gave her an opportunity to keep her mind occupied.

Hogwarts itself had gone through a series of changes for the new term. There was, as was customary every year, a new Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor. Oddly enough, this year, it was Professor Snape who assumed the role. After all the years of patient frustration, he had finally gotten the position he so longingly desired.

A new professor to Hermione, Professor Slughorn, assumed the, now vacated, position of Potions master. He was quite a lively addition to the school with his boisterous mannerism and over-the-top idiosyncrasies. He also seemed, almost immediately, to be quite taken with Harry. Not that this should have come as any surprise. Most everyone in authority always seemed to be either taken or disgusted with Harry. Wherever the center was, Harry found himself there more often than not. Not that it bothered Hermione. It was merely an undeniable observation.

With Slughorn inserted as the Potions instructor, Harry and Ron found that their O.W.L. scores, lower than the necessary requirements for Professor Snape, fell well within the requirements for Slughorn. Alas, their desire to become Aurors after graduation was still alive and well.

Luck had clearly befallen them. Even more so for Harry, who, because of his belief that he would not be taking Potions, was given a lender copy of the textbook, previously annotated with helpful hints and unique original spells. It had already come in quite handy for their first day of class, as he used these notations to brew a flawless Draught of Living Death. This, Hermione had to admit, frustrated her, as her own attempt, despite her best efforts, fell shamefully short. Shamefully by her standards, at any rate.

Even more shameful, Hermione almost convinced herself the annotated lender may have been both cursed and purposefully placed for Harry. In truth, it was more Ginny's concern that brought this potential revelation about. After all, the youngest Weasley had fallen prey to a journal of malintent several years prior.

Alas, after thorough scrutiny, the textbook was simply that … A textbook.

Feeling frustrated with her failure in the classroom and ashamed of her behavior that followed, Hermione found solace in the one place that always brightened her mood. Even better, said location was also quite often relatively deserted in the evenings. Only a few other bookworms within the school would find solace in a room of literature and knowledge. The fact that Killian happened to be one of them was mere a coincidence.

"I think I'm most nervous about Apparition," Hermione said, feigning an interest in the tomes that lined the shelves as Killian, his back against a row of books, cloaked himself in reading.

"Nonsense," Killian dismissed. "Nothing to be nervous about."

"Right," Hermione playfully disagreed. "Except for splinching. Other than that painfully potential consequence, it's a pleasant afternoon walk."

"You just need to remain focused," Killian said with a grin. "Why the sudden concern? You were fine with me."

Believing they had spent too much time in one area and needed to move along before someone noticed, Hermione took a book from the shelf, made her way to one of the long pitted tables, and sat down as Killian inconspicuously set himself across from her.

"That was just a Side-Along," she said, her eyes on her book, now more careful to keep her voice down. "And … Actually, it was a bit scary. It felt … different. Not bad … Just different."

Killian paused for a moment, biting his bottom lip. "That can happen," he explained. "Depending on location, distance, and other such variables. No doubt that's why it felt different."

"I don't mean different like that," Hermione clarified. "I mean, it's not as if I have anything to compare it to. That was my first experience with Apparating. I just meant it was a different feeling as a whole."

Once again, Killian took a moment. Long enough that Hermione dared to expose them by casting a deliberate glance in his direction. She saw a troubled look upon his face that gave her concern. It was not like Killian to be at a loss for words. Even less so for him to look troubled. Furthermore, nothing in their conversation seemed to be any catalyst for onus.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

Killian stood and walked over to a more secluded area of the library, indicating with his eyes for Hermione to follow. After a moment, so as to disallow any connection, she complied, although now both curious and concerned.

"What is it?" she asked, after assuring there were no eyes upon them.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Killian asked in return.

"Tell you what?"

"You'd never Apparated before."

"I don't know," Hermione answered honestly. "I didn't really get a chance, I suppose. When you said you wanted to show me something, I thought it was something you had brought with you. Then you grabbed my hand and we were off."

Another pause. Killian looked to the floor and ran his fingers through his hair. "I should have asked," he said. "I just assumed you had before. With everything you've been through, I just … I didn't know."

"Killian, it's all right," Hermione assured, not seeing the seriousness in Killian's perceived offense.

"No," he argued. "It is absolutely not."

Killian reached out and grasped a thin lock of Hermione's hair that had fallen in her face and slid it to the side as he had done so often before. It was one of the simple little nothings, almost subconscious actions, Hermione never grew tired of.

"When I learned to Apparate," he began, "It was made very clear that when you perform a Side-Along, you are taking control of someone else's body. It's not their will, it's yours. I took control of you, Hermione," he went on. "You had never done anything like that before and I didn't even ask."

"Killian …" Hermione said, tilting her head to meet Killian's eyes that were still focused on the floor. "… If you had asked me, I would have said yes."

"That's not the point," Killian argued.

"But it is," Hermione argued in return. "I had never Apparated with anyone before. Never Apparated at all. Now I have … And it was with you," she concluded, hoping it did not come out sounding silly or girlish.

Hermione had never viewed Apparating way Killian displayed it. It was nothing more than a form of transportation, like a port key or Floo Powder. But that was just on the surface. When one looks deeper, Killian was right. To take someone on a Side-Along, you are quite literally taking control of their body, bending it to your will, to your destination. From that point of view, it was beyond intrusive. So much so, she was surprised she had not seen it as such before.

Yet, Killian had. To the point of guilt. It was Hermione's first time and he felt as though he had stolen it from her without consent. Truth be told, she had given the moment to him willingly, whether he requested permission or not. He would beat himself up over it nonetheless. Ever the gentleman behind the curtain.

Seemingly accepting Hermione's explanation, Killian straightened up. "I suppose you could have done worse for your first Side-Along," he said with a raised eyebrow.

And there he was. The much more recognizable, not quite Slytherin, persona he presented so often had returned.

"I hate you," she teased with a groan as she turned and made her way back to the main area of the library.

Once settled aside another row of texts, Hermione closed her eyes and began massaging her temples. Killian came up alongside and leaned against the shelves, grabbing a book and flipping randomly through the pages.

"First day of classes and you already have a headache?" he teased. "You're in for a rough year."

"It was a long day, is all," Hermione dismissed.

"If you're tired," Killian suggested in jest. "Maybe you should head back to your dormitory and get some rest."

Normally, Hermione would have had an enthusiastic counter or witty quip. A sigh and roll of her eyes in the very least. This time, however, all she could muster was a weak nudge of her shoulder into his as she causally passed him and continued down the rows.

Killian followed close, yet safely behind until they turned the corner of one section and began down another.

"I thought you said you weren't angry," he said.

"I'm not," Hermione promised, placing her hand on his chest, sliding it up and adjusting his tie which was slightly askew. "It has nothing to do with you."

"Have I missed something, then?" he asked.

Had he? Had she?

Hermione was angry with herself for not succeeding in Potions earlier in the day. She was angry with herself for trying to discredit a textbook partially out of jealousy. She was even feeling a bit off due her disbelief in Harry and Ron's theory about something being afoot with Draco. Last year, should would not have been quite so doubtful on the subject. Skeptical, maybe. Cautious. But not doubtful.

Why her conversation with Killian over what seemed like an insignificant moment brought up such thoughts and feelings, Hermione could not fathom. Now she was flooded with emotions and questions. Questions about herself, questions about others, questions of which may not, in the end, even have answers.

And it was more than just a used textbook with scribbles from a previous owner. Prior to the debacle in Potions, she, Ron, and Harry had taken their first Defense Against the Dark Arts class with Professor Snape. As had been the story for each of their previous years, Professor Snape and Harry did not start off well.

In truth, Professor Snape's actions, singling out Harry as an example for the class, was borderline improper. Not because of what he did, per se. More that it was Harry. They have a history, after all. No, it was Harry's snide comment that upset Hermione. Ron, of course, thought it was brilliant. Hermione could not have disagreed more.

Perhaps upset was not the correct term. Hurt might better define the emotion. Harry and Professor Snape had been at odds since the moment Harry set foot in Hogwarts their very first year. But he had always been the student and Snape always the Professor. There was anger, for certain. In all of that, however, Harry had never been so blatantly disrespectful. Not only blatantly, but publically, as well, as the comment was purposefully made for the entire class to hear.

And again, Hermione did not defend Professor Snape's actions. But Harry was no better. Perhaps he was worse.

It was bound to come along sooner or later. Boys mature, machismo inflates, and suddenly they are more sure of themselves than they have any right to be. It simply was not the Harry Hermione had grown to know in previous years. He had changed. Not much, and arguably not for the worse. Still, he had changed.

And it was not because of the loss of Sirius. Although, no doubt, that played a part in it, as well. It was simply the inevitable evolution of one's person as they grow up and mature. It made Hermione sad to think of what that meant, if it even meant anything at all.

And then there was Killian, feeling guilt for a moment of perceived impropriety. A moment Hermione had not even given a second thought. After all, said moment was with Killian. As ridiculous as it seemed for someone like herself, Hermione knew there was very little she would not feel comfortable with when it came to him. She might fight him on it just for the challenge, for the passion it imbues, or simply just because … But in the end, she would give in to him, just as he would give in to her.

Hermione wondered if Harry or Ron, or any of her peers for that matter, would have reacted as Killian had done had they believed they had taken improper liberties. After all, they had graduated from the age of innocence and were well into the age of rebellious youth. For some, taking liberties from another almost seemed like a bragging right versus an improper action. Everyone was so different now. Almost everyone.

"Are you there?" Killian asked on, waving his hand before Hermione.

"What?" she asked in return, realizing she had been off in her own thoughts for a moment.

"I was just talking about how Filch caught the Snitch in a pickup game of Quiddich among the faculty," Killian explained.

"Wait …" Hermione was taken aback. "Are you serious?"

"No," Killian answered with a grin as he leaned in close enough for Hermione to feel his breath on her skin. "Just seeing if you're paying attention," he added in a whisper.

Hermione was hit with the wafting scent of peppermint, reminding her of the Amortentia potion Professor Slughorn had brewing in his classroom earlier that day. Hermione had taken in its aroma, describing it to the class. Fresh cut grass, new parchment, and another scent she did not mention out loud.

She could not place it at the time. Not the scent itself, but more of why it would make her feel uncomfortable to the point of holding her tongue in front of her classmates. Now, she knew … It was Killian. His breath so very often smelled of peppermint. A little detail that was never on the forefront of Hermione's mind, but always present nonetheless.

Without thinking, Hermione slipped her hand behind Killian's neck and pulled him towards her, kissing him gently on the lips. Not overly intimate or drawn-out, but long enough to matter. When Hermione released, Killian looked at her without retreating.

"What was that for?" he asked.

"For being you," Hermione answered.

"I'm me all the time," Killian argued with a grin. "You hate it, as you recently pointed out."

"I do," Hermione agreed with a reserved laugh to preserve the quiet atmosphere of the library. "But I'd miss it if it went away."

"Well, I wouldn't want you to miss it …"

Killian ran his fingers through Hermione's hair, his hand coming to rest just beyond her ear. Hermione then closed her eyes as he leaned in and returned her kiss with a tender fervor that curled her toes and drew back her shoulders as the taste of peppermint invaded her tongue.

Don't ever change … she thought as the anxiety of being caught was silenced by the desire to feel his weight upon her. Please don't ever change …