From the author: I deeply apologize for the length of time between updates.
Here is your second chapter. It was difficult to write, as I've never written from Hermione's perspective before and crafting a big chunk of a chapter with only her to work with was rather difficult, but it seemed necessary.
Hermione sat alone in her office, flipping through one of many large and ancient books she had perused recently on the subject of Transfiguration. Though she fought to focus, the hour was late and her mind was prone to wander. Leaning back in her chair, she waved her wand over her empty teacup and it again filled with steaming Earl Gray. Leaving it to cool, she gazed out the window closest to her, which directly observed the lake. Stars reflected on its surface, winking as the water rippled from the movement of any number of interesting creatures lurking in its depths.
Following in the steps of Minerva McGonagall was a daunting prospect, Hermione mused as she sipped her tea. She was not sure how she could possibly be expected to life up to Professor McGonagall's genius. Teaching had not been a career she had ever seriously considered, although she had often been told she would suceed brilliantly if she chose that path. When she recieved the owl from the newly appointed headmistress, she had promptly declined the appointment. However, after visiting the castle to meet with McGonagall, discussing the aspects of the job, she'd begun to feel a strange pull towards the school she had not even felt while attending there.
In the wake of the Great War, so many young witches and wizards were left without guidance, launched into a world that was piecing itself back together. Some were without parents, some had lost friends. She understood their pain, their suffering--she had experienced more than enough of it herself.
The image of Ron's laughing face flashed across her mind breifly and her heart lurched before she pushed the vision firmly away. He was gone, and she had to carry on.
So she'd come to teach. She would help how she could, do her part to make Hogwarts a home to those who had lost their own.
Her stomach was crawling at the thought of her first class, early the next morning. She felt bewildered and nervous, but thankful that she'd be able to cut her teeth on first-year Ravenclaws. She was trying very hard not to think about being face with a class full of Slytherins--it made her feel somewhat hysterical.
Closing her book and draining her tea, she stood and blew out the few candles lighting her desk before making her way to her bedchamber. An oil lamp had been lit and placed on her nightstand, and her bedclothes had been turned down. She brooded breifly over house-elf enslavement as she changed into her nightgown, making sure to clean up after herself. She knew she couldn't change the world, but she could at least make as little work for them as possible.
Smiling to herself as she slid into bed, she thought that perhaps if she stayed at Hogwarts she'd re-establish S.P.E.W. Perhaps using her influence as a teacher she could get some real progress made.
Laughing quietly at the mental image of herself leading an army of house-elves to liberation, she doused the lamp and slipped into an untroubled sleep.
Meanwhile...
Remus Lupin was not as lucky. He lay awake in the dark stillness of his bedroom, the only light that of the haunting moon filtering in through his window. He could not say for sure what unsettled him, but he felt almost as though he was suffocating beneath the weight of something he could not bear to acknowledge.
It was drawing close to another full moon and he felt as though there was a fever in his skin. His transformations had become much more painful since his wife's death; it was as if he could no longer excersize even the slightest control over the beast within him. The pain was too great. The cruelty the world had shown him, all the loss he had suffered...
He pushed these bitter thoughts aside, knowing quite well that dwelling on misfortune did nothing to improve things. He'd survived each of his childhood friends, his parents, and his beautiful wife, but his son lived on and for that, at least, he was infinitely grateful.
Rolling onto his side and adjusting the pillow beneath his head, he thought of Teddy and found a quiet peace, an escape. Picturing his son's bright, shining eyes, his playful smile, Remus finally drifted into painless dreams.
Sorry it's a bit short.
Term starts next chapter, I expect it to be much longer than this.