September first had been an exciting day for Hermione since she was eleven years old, and this one was no different. In fact, she could argue that it was even more exciting than usual; the years in between her graduation from Hogwarts and now had almost been painful, when September rolled around and nothing special had happened, so even though there was no train ride on her day's schedule, Hermione still felt the thrilling anticipation from her head to her toes. Unable to sleep any later, she was up with the sun and creating a mental to-do list, her habit of over-preparing kicking in as she checked, double-checked, and triple-checked her materials for the next day.

It wasn't long before Hermione realized with dismay that she really had already done everything she could to prepare for her first day. Her bag was packed and ready to go, resting in a convenient, out-of-the-way spot just inside her front door. She'd already chosen her clothes for both the welcoming feast and the start of lessons, the two outfits clean, pressed, and hung neatly in her wardrobe. She and Gemma had finished decorating their classroom. They had at least a vague idea of their lesson plans for the first few weeks, if not longer. It wasn't even midmorning…the students weren't due to arrive for hours…what on earth was she supposed to do?

It was almost ridiculous how difficult it was to occupy the time remaining until the feast, but Hermione managed somehow. She finished organizing her suite, including setting up her fireplace for Floo calls from those select few who merited it. She penned letters to her parents and to her Muggle friends, updating them on how everything was going (surprisingly not having to edit too much for Muggle-friendly content) and promising to write again after her first classes. As there was no Muggle post office nearby, the easiest delivery arrangement was to send all of the letters to either her parents, Harry, or Draco, none of whom would be fazed by owl post and all of whom knew Hermione's Muggle friends and could therefore pass along the appropriate correspondence. Satisfied, Hermione sealed her letters and took them up to the owlery. She had never owned her own owl, but she didn't mind – she'd become particularly friendly with one of the school barn owls over the years, and indeed, as she stepped inside the circular room, the aforementioned bird swooped down to rest on her shoulder, nudging Hermione's hand for treats as she laughed and stroked its soft feathers.

The rest of the afternoon disappeared amidst visits to Hagrid's hut and the library. Hermione couldn't stay long at Hagrid's, as the gamekeeper was preparing for the first-years' journey across the lake, but he was thrilled to see her nonetheless and promised to update her on all the fascinating creatures he'd obtained for his classes that year. Fervently hoping that these 'fascinating creatures' didn't include anything exceptionally dangerous or illegal, Hermione agreed to tea later in the week and headed off for the library.

The library had always been a place of refuge for Hermione during her student years – in her first year, the books didn't judge her for her bossiness or intimidating intelligence like her peers did, and even when she'd gained some friends, the cavernous room still provided her with endless hours of quiet learning and answered many valuable questions. Nicolas Flamel…the basilisk…magical creature cases…Triwizard Tournament preparations, including a number of extremely useful defensive spells…Hermione could've gone on for ages. Even just being in the library was comforting, the smell of old books combining with the leather and wood of the furniture to rival even the most potent Amortentia. It was a hallowed place of learning, one of Hermione's favorites in all of Hogwarts – she even had her own favorite spot, a hidden nook with a little desk and a window that provided a spectacular view of the sunset.

The only downside to the library was Madam Pince. It had always made Hermione sad that the Hogwarts librarian was about as pleasant as Filch – that is to say, not at all. Yes, it was good to want to keep the library materials in good condition so that generations of students might benefit from them, but Madam Pince's intimidating demeanor more often than not kept most people out of the library altogether except in extreme circumstances. Hermione was definitely in the minority in that regard. It really was a shame – there were some hidden gems amongst those shelves, but most people were too concerned with avoiding Madam Pince to find them.

Hermione wandered around the library for almost an hour, aimlessly perusing the shelves and paying a visit to her beloved study corner. She wondered if she might occupy it again some nights, or if another student had laid claim to the space – perhaps it might be too weird to see a faculty member working in the library anyway. She could still borrow books, however, and took her time browsing, not looking for anything in particular but still interested in seeing what the library had to offer. After a while, a grunt from Madam Pince, who was dusting nearby and had been shooting Hermione suspicious glances as if expecting her to suddenly attack every book in sight, Hermione checked her watch and decided it was time to get ready for the feast.

Afterwards, Hermione wished she owned a Pensieve, simply so she could've gone back to review her memories of the night. She remembered flushing with slightly embarrassed pride as the Gryffindor table in particular cheered loudly upon her introduction as a professor, and she remembered her own enthusiastic clapping as each new first-year was Sorted. Beyond that, though, most of the night was a blur. Hermione couldn't have said for the life of her what she'd eaten for dinner, nor what she'd talked about with Gemma and Neville, who sat either side of her. In fact, she was quite shocked when the sudden scraping of benches alerted her to the fact that she hadn't even been aware of Professor McGonagall bidding the school goodnight.

Hermione honestly couldn't say how she got through that first morning. Her mind was all over the place, and she was amazed that she managed to get herself looking presentable and walk out the door looking like she knew what she was doing. She had her first class during first period – perhaps the lack of any extra waiting time was a good thing, given her nerves – and so after a quick breakfast, she and Gemma purposefully made their way up to their classroom. In what felt like no time at all, the bell had rung, and Hermione could hear the familiar sound of hundreds of feet carrying their owners to their classes. The classroom door opened and the first few students entered, looking nervous – in a weird way, their outward nerves helped ease Hermione's, now that she knew she wasn't the only apprehensive one, and she smiled at the newcomers.

"Welcome," she said. "Please, take a seat." Their first class was a group of second-years, which Hermione thought was rather ideal – they weren't quite so starry-eyed and overwhelmed as the first-years, but they were still young enough to have not gotten too comfortable. Over the next few minutes, the remaining students arrived, and Hermione nodded when she found everyone accounted for.

"Welcome," she repeated, moving forward to stand next to Gemma in front of the teacher's desk. "Welcome to your first culture studies class. My name is Professor Granger." Although she did her best not to show it outwardly, Hermione's insides definitely did a little jig at the word 'professor'.

"And my name is Professor Farley," Gemma added. "We will be co-teaching this class, which, if all goes well, you will have on your timetables from now until your graduation from Hogwarts."

"In this class, we will be learning about both Muggle and Wizarding cultures," Hermione said, "and regardless of your individual backgrounds, I hope each one of you takes something away from this class, whether it's a new skill or just an interesting fact. Now, who can tell me why our class topic is important?" A dark-haired boy in the second row raised his hand, and Hermione nodded his way.

"Tell me your name first, please."

"Jeremy – Jeremy Green, Professor."

"Thank you, Jeremy. And my question?"

"Well, we're all in the Wizarding world, so wouldn't it be good to know about Wizarding culture?"

"Are you asking me, or telling me?" Hermione asked with a smile. Jeremy grinned sheepishly.

"Telling you, Professor."

"Excellent. Always be confident in your answers, Jeremy – that goes for all of you. And yes, you're absolutely right – we're a part of the Wizarding world, so we should know how it works. But what about the other part of it, the Muggle studies part?" She and Gemma surveyed the class. Many of the students looked unsure for a moment before a short blonde girl tentatively raised her hand. Gemma pushed her glasses up her nose and called on the girl.

"My name is Grace Winston," the girl said, "and I think that the Muggle studies part might be important because…well, if we ever interact with Muggles, we should know how to do so without drawing attention to things they take for granted."

"An excellent answer, Miss Winston," Gemma nodded approvingly. "Even if you plan to live firmly in the Wizarding world for the rest of your life, it's still good to have a basic understanding of Muggle culture as well – certainly not as a replacement, if you're originally from a Wizarding family, but as an alternative. You can't guarantee that you'll never interact with a Muggle, so it's best to know a little bit so that you don't stick out like a sore thumb if you do. Our goal is to make sure that no matter which world you'd like to make your way in after Hogwarts, you can do so relatively easily."

"I can see the value in that," spoke up a tall boy to Jeremy Green's left. "My mum's a witch, but my family tends to do things mostly the Muggle way because my dad's a Muggle – even though I've been here for a year now, there's still plenty more I'd like to know about the Wizarding world."

"And vice versa," said a girl with a dark red ponytail. "My parents are both magical, so I know next to nothing about Muggles. We took Muggle transport to Kings Cross because my baby sister doesn't like the Floo or Apparition – Muggle London was kind of scary!"

Hermione smiled as she listened to her students express both their interests and their opinions. After spending so much time guarding secrets during the war, it was refreshing to encounter a group of students who weren't afraid to speak up, to talk openly about things like their heritage. This group had been too young, barely primary school age, during the Second War, and thus hadn't had their views tainted by all the darkness that had come with it. She let them talk for a few more minutes, then called the class to order.

"I think that will be all for today," she told them, noting that the bell was due to ring any minute now. "Next class, we'll dive into our first topic. For homework, please make a list of three things you'd be interested in learning about each culture – they can be as broad or as specific as you like. That will be all." The bell rang then, and the second-years gathered their things, chattering excitedly as they exited the classroom.

"I think that went well," Gemma said. "They seemed interested, at least."

"They did," Hermione agreed. "It's not them I'm worried about, though." There was, in fact, one class that had her more anxious than any of the others combined – the seventh-years. Those students had been first-years during the Carrows' reign, had seen and experienced some truly terrible things, things that no eleven-year-old should ever see in even his worst nightmares. Hermione worried that these students' horrific experiences might taint their views on the benefits of her course, and she wondered if any of them had been hardened against one group or the other. She already knew that the class's numbers were frightfully low – after that first year, only twenty students had come back to continue their magical education at Hogwarts, and with that ridiculous Registration Commission in place, Hermione wasn't sure there were any Muggle-borns in the class at all. There wasn't much time to dwell on the idea, though, as the seventh-years were their very next class. As with the second-years, the older students filed in and took seats, and Hermione and Gemma introduced themselves before Hermione gave her opening spiel. She hadn't yet asked her first question, however, when a student raised his hand.

"Yes, Mr.…?"

"Smith," the boy replied, "Harrison Smith." Hermione wondered if he was related to Zacharias Smith, the Hufflepuff who'd been such a thorn in their side during the D.A. days – this boy had the same pointed features and sneering tone. "Explain to me, Professor, why studying Muggles is important?"

Definitely related to Zacharias, Hermione thought.

"I was hoping one of you could answer that question, actually," she replied. "Why is it important that we're studying both cultures?"

"I'm really not sure," Harrison Smith answered as he picked at his nails. "I mean, we're in the Wizarding world – why do we have to care about the Muggles?"

"And why should I have to care about the purebloods who killed half my family?" another boy shot towards Smith, giving him a dirty look. "Called us lesser, destroyed us, acted like we were worth nothing?"

"Hold it," Gemma cut in, a warning tone in her voice. "You're both treading in dangerous territory here, and I suggest you stop and check your facts before you say anything else." Both boys glared at each other but said nothing, waiting to see what their new professor would do next.

"I understand that you all had some terrible experiences during your first year here – believe me, I do. I obviously wasn't at Hogwarts any longer, but the professional Wizarding world was just as bad. You couldn't trust anyone, not even your own family or friends, for fear that they were actually spies or under the Imperius or just plain not on your side. Deaths were a daily occurrence, people disappeared without a trace, and the repercussions were far too many to name. We're making progress, but we're far from recovered.

"That said, we need to straighten some things out before we go any further." Gemma paused and looked to Hermione, who nodded in silent agreement.

"There were witches and wizards of all backgrounds on both sides," Hermione said. "Just because you were a pureblood didn't make you a Death Eater, and not all Muggle-borns were saints. Voldemort" – here she ignored the flinches at the dead wizard's name – "himself was a half-blood – not many people knew that, of course, as he was always preaching pureblood superiority and playing up his Wizarding heritage, but his father was a Muggle. He grew up in a Muggle orphanage after his mother died giving birth to him, and he grew up despising Muggles because of his poor living conditions. Coming to Hogwarts gave him a sense of purpose, a sense of self-worth, and he exploited that until he had others believing his warped agenda." Hermione paused a moment to let that sink in. It had all been printed in the papers, of course, but then again, most people were skeptical of the Prophet these days.

"Voldemort succeeded because people are afraid of what they don't know – many wizards are ignorant of Muggle culture, and so they feared it. But what might've happened if those wizards had had even a basic understanding of Muggles? They wouldn't have to be experts, of course, but what if they knew just enough to get by, to move about in the Muggle world like any other citizen?

"On the other hand, there are those of us who were raised in Muggle households, or Muggle-leaning ones, for some half-bloods. Are those of us in those categories somehow less worthy of studying magic, just because of how we grew up?" Hermione thought she might be getting a bit preachy, and even if she weren't, her students had definitely heard all this before, so she decided to change tactics.

"Let's look at it another way," she suggested. "May I please have a volunteer?" A girl with a brown bob raised her hand, as did Harrison Smith, which was exactly what she'd wanted.

"Mr. Smith, thank you. Could you please tell me something about each of your classmates?" Harrison looked taken aback.

"Erm…why?" he asked.

"Just humor me," Hermione replied. "One thing about each of them."

"Alright…" Harrison stood so as to see his classmates better, and he went down the back row first, pointing to each of them in turn.

"He's a twin."

"She has a cat."

"She speaks five languages."

"He's a Gryffindor."

"She doesn't like Herbology."

"He's a redhead."

Harrison continued in this vein until he reached the last student – "She plays Quidditch" – and then looked to Hermione expectantly.

"Very good," Hermione said approvingly. "Thank you, Mr. Smith. Now, did the rest of you notice anything interesting about his statements?" She'd called on Harrison and not the brunette girl for a reason, and he'd unintentionally done exactly what she'd wanted him to do. The only question that remained was whether his classmates had picked up on it. The seventh-years looked puzzled for a moment before the brunette raised her hand.

"Christina Miller, Professor," she said. "I noticed that some of his statements were far more generic than others – for instance, he knew the name of Amanda's dog, but he only said 'Gryffindor' for Ben."

"A good start," Hermione said, happy that they were already on the right track. "It's probably safe to say that Harrison knows some of you better than others – I certainly couldn't have given intimate details about all of my Hogwarts classmates, and I'm sure Professor Farley couldn't either." Gemma shook her head.

"Not at all – my closest friends, my housemates, and a few other classmates, sure, but others? Generic statements, absolutely."

"Did any of you notice what Harrison didn't mention?" Hermione asked, giving them a gentle nudge. There wasn't a lot of time left in the class, and she wanted to make her point. Silence reigned as they thought. Then…

"Blood status." All heads turned to the back of the room, where a girl with long blonde curls had suddenly flushed bright pink at all the attention.

"Could you repeat that, please?" Hermione asked kindly.

"Blood status," the girl said, a little louder this time but still rather quiet. "Harrison didn't say anything about blood status."

"Exactly." Hermione nodded appreciatively, causing the blonde girl to smile hesitantly. "When asked to name a fact about each of you, Harrison did so, no doubt saying the first thing that came to mind – which, as we pointed out, was sometimes a generic fact like House affiliation or hair color, but not once did he mention blood status." She leaned back against her desk, resting her palms on the cool surface.

"We're all entitled to our own opinions – I will never tell you otherwise," she said. "But you all saw firsthand what happens when we try to pit one group against another. Perhaps you'll never interact with Muggles, perhaps you'll liaise with the Prime Minister himself – whatever you choose is your choice, and your choice alone. But whatever you choose, the lease I can do is make sure you're prepared. I was thrown into the Wizarding world at the age of eleven with next to no knowledge of how things worked, so I know what it's like to suddenly be in a completely unfamiliar environment – it's a lot to take in, and it's really scary. Professor Farley and I can't tell you which way to go once you've left Hogwarts, but we can prepare you for wherever life may take you."

"I think I understand now, Professor," Christina Miller said. "Having an understanding of both cultures might not solve all our problems, but it might help get rid of some of the prejudices and make our lives a little easier."

"That's our goal," Hermione said, nodding towards the younger girl. "If you leave here with a better understanding of just one thing, that's good enough for me." Deciding they'd done more than enough for one day, she gave them their homework assignment and dismissed them. The seventh-years weren't nearly as chatty as the second-years had been as they left, but some of them looked thoughtful at least, so that was good.

"That was tough," Hermione said once she'd shut the classroom door.

"No kidding," Gemma replied. "But I think we got through to them, at least. That exercise got them thinking, I know that."

"It's a start," Hermione said, moving to gather up her things. "It's a start."

A/N: And so Hermione's survived her first day of teaching - yay! Hopefully the two lessons weren't too boring; the course material won't be a huge focus, I don't think, since we already tackled quite a bit of that in the first installment. In case anyone's curious, all of the students' names are made up.

Thank you to everyone who's given this story some love - follows, faves, reviews, you're the best!

JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R&R, & enjoy! :)