Hermione bit her lip. The students were arriving, glowering and whispering about the person sitting in the Dumbledore's chair. By extension, the defence chair; her chair. Her first class was the Gryffindor and Slytherin seventh years, including none of than Remus Lupin.
Hermione saw his slightly grubby robe from a mile away as he walked into the classroom and shot her a discreet thumbs up. She smiled widely at him, her chocolate eyes glowing with warmth.
Soon, three fourths of the seats were filled, and a girl with flaming red hair raised a tentative hand. The small whispering of the class soon dispersed, as if sensing what the girl was going to ask.
"Yes, Miss..." Hermione began, her smile dying on her face. She had a very good idea who the seventh year was. Her emerald eyes shone holes into Hermione's skull and she had to physically stop herself from recoiling with familiarity. Her heart stopped for just a second before she was able to go on.
"Evans," she supplied. "I've never seen you before in my life. I'm Head Girl, you see, and you can't be sitting in the Headmaster's chair. I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave." She ignored Remus who was looking at Lily and willing her to stop talking with his eyes.
Despite that, Hermione managed a small, forced laugh. "That is very considerate of you, Miss Evans, however this is not Albus's chair. It is mine." There was a pause of silence as the students slowly realized the implications.
"Class," Hermione continued, not missing a beat, "I am Professor Lovett, and I will teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts."
There was a sudden uproar, especially in the area mainly dominated by Slytherins. There was a clearly cut line between the red and green and Hermione had no intent to side with either. Her eyes were narrowed into slits of hazel and without much preparation she cast sonorous.
"Quiet!" She bellowed at the top of her lungs, every syllable potent with magical power. Any previous whispering had died into nothing, and Lily Evans's face was as red as her hair.
"I'm sorry Professor," she said, looking rather horrified. "I didn't know you were teaching this class." Hermione accepted the apology with a graceful bob of her head, deeply aware of Slytherin politics and how they would react if she would respond.
"Now, students," Hermione continued, but didn't get more than a few words out of her lips. A blonde student stood, even slower than she could have anticipated. She silently turned to face him, her smile curved into a cold smile and her eyes glinting icily.
"Yes, Mr…" She said, but was rudely broken off. It was a wonder he had made it into Slytherin, his tactics were so brashly Gryffindor that she almost snorted.
"Malfoy." His voice was curt, deep and menacing and though he was almost a foot taller than her Hermione found it incredibly difficult to be intimidated by him.
"You are not fit to teach this class," he continued, his voice bordering on furious. "My father - " Hermione, at this point, couldn't resist the small chuckle that broke through her frozen persona. A few Gryffindors snickered at Lucius Malfoy's enraged expression.
Hermione quickly molded her face into the neutral mask she had long perfected.
"My father," Malfoy continued, trying not to snarl, "had already appointed a Defence Professor. Your services are unneeded, Lovett." It was the way he sneered her last name, the disgust clear in his voice as he made it abundantly clear that it wasn't a pureblood name.
That, in fact, was thing that made her fury swell. With that one word, he had managed to disrespect her and two of her closest friends, and most importantly, the parents they had treasured and watched killed.
Her voice was so frigid that it could cut through ice, and she did something she had promised herself she wouldn't do.
"Mr. Malfoy," she said tersely, "I am the teacher here whether you like it or not. You are a student and would do well to respect your boundaries of your superiors." His eyes glinted with rage just as she expected and she smoldered the tiny bit of triumph that had risen inside her ribcage.
"Absolutely not," he sneered, his eyes glowering at her. "My father will hear about this, and he will - " Hermione couldn't help it, she gave a small snort, still shaking with giggles after a few seconds. She maintained a straight face and nodded to Malfoy, who was vibrating in fury.
She couldn't believe that Malfoy was so similar to Draco in this era. She still had small hiccups of amusement throughout his speech and was tempted to just burst into obnoxious laughter. But that, of course, would leave a very negative impression on all her students. And she couldn't do that.
Her eyes still twinkling, she walked up to Malfoy, a false sense of cheer in her gait.
"Mr. Malfoy, how about we make a deal?" His eyes gleamed at this, the Slytherin in him finally analysing the benefits he could receive from the situation. His pale fingers were closed tightly in fists that slowly unclenched in suppressed excitement.
Hermione smiled, hiding the cruel under shadow to her gaze. "It is simple, really," she said neutrally. "I will duel the entire class." She ignored the dubious looks shot to her by the Gryffindors, and one extremely worried gaze. "If a student - just one of you manages to knock me unconscious, I will leave Hogwarts and never return."
Lucius Malfoy's eyes widened in triumph, certain that he would win this. "And if I lose?" The words seemed to be forcefully pulled from his mouth but he spoke them nonetheless.
"Then you never challenge my right to teach again." Malfoy seemed to understand that she was a woman of her word, despite loathing her muggle heritage, and reluctantly nodded. After all, Malfoy consoled himself; he had never sworn any oath.
"Up!" Hermione barked, leaving half the class to jump to their feet. She banished the desks just outside. Her eyes gleamed wildly and she managed to mutter, "No deadly spells," before she took off. Hermione waved her hand and sent a stunner. Pettigrew, too unprepared to move, was down in an instant, his watery blue eyes frozen in an expression of confusion and dim-witted irritation.
Hermione grinned at the sudden indignation in the Marauders' eyes, as they leapt into the fray, attempting to take her down. Hermione stunned Dolohov and a boy she guessed was a Lestrange by his distinguishing violet eyes.
She flicked her wrists continuously, stunners soaring out of her palms and making contact with multiple bodies as they fell with a thud.
"Rictusempra," she hissed, hitting Remus with a tickling charm rather than giving him the simple peace of a stunner. It had already been two weeks since the full moon and he had visited her in the Hospital Wing to assure her he had completely healed.
Her eyes sparkled as she watched him struggle, the laughter bursting from his mouth, but then her heart stopped. He looked - he looked as if -
- he was being tortured.
She lifted the spell, suddenly rather pallid as she continued to fight. A slash of her hand and the other Lestrange fell to the ground. A fist suddenly made contact with her ear and she was stunned for a second, feeling the blood flowing from inside her ear. Her head was ringing as she put her hand up to assess the damage.
An anger that she had forgotten in the few weeks resurfaced.
"I never said physical violence was allowed!" Hermione roared, the loathing potent in her words. The phrase died on her lips as she turned to see the attacker and her hatred multiplied by tenfold: condensing into a single action.
It was Black. Bellatrix Black. There was a short second that felt like an eternity as the Slytherin girl glared defiantly back. Then Hermione drew her fist back and with a satisfying crunch shattered her nose. The woman fell to the ground, unconscious and Hermione stood for a second to catch her breath before kicking her and breaking a rib.
Immediately, she felt a wand pressing into her neck. She recognized the same muscles groups and shoulder structure that she had often noticed in Harry and sighed, turning her head to look at none other than his father.
"Yield?" James Potter demanded, his dark eyes boring into her own. She just looked at him, pityingly and wondering how on earth he was going to survive in the real world. A Death Eater would have split his skull had he tried to do that to them.
"No, Mr. Potter," she deadpanned and slid easily out of his grip. She spun around, delivering a roundhouse kick to his calves and knocking his feet out from under him. Hermione quickly stunned him, only to be faced with the furious Avada Kedavra eyes of Lily Evans.
"Avis," she hissed, and Hermione was forced to duck as the tiny origami birds that she had practiced countless times pecked at her skin and drew tiny, bloody cuts.
What truly angered her, however, was the fact Lily Evans had disturbed her glamor. The scars, the cruel vile words that covered every inch of her skin flickered into view for just a second. She recast immediately and tried reassured herself that nobody had seen.
Incendio, Hermione cast silently, watching as the fragile wings of the paper birds caught aflame and ashes rained from the ceiling.
"Immobulus," Malfoy cast, finally appearing in the peripherals of her vision. Hermione glared at him, her hatred for him growing. Though he wasn't yet responsible for the murder of her beloved friend Luna, he was getting pretty damn close.
"Resorting to second year spells, are we, Mr. Malfoy?" She growled, snapping at him, mostly due to his previous insolence. Sirius Black was behind her and she weaved and dodged and ducked, not surprised he was the best dueler out of his friends.
He had held Bellatrix for some time after all, in the Department of Mysteries. Finally, she lunged. She hooked her arm around his left tendon and pulled, watching as his legs collapsed from under him.
"Yield?" she teased, smiling, and then shot a stunner at him. Sirius's impressed yet baleful expression had brought a grin to her face and she quickly ducked and stealthily stunned Lily Evans. Her red hair splayed on the floor like blood and it brought back terrible memories from the war.
"Sectumsempra," Severus Snape snarled, and Hermione was so startled that she almost didn't react in time.
Anger surged through her, the thought of he could have done to a student if they hadn't moved fast enough. She suddenly recalled something from a memory Harry had shown her, something rather cruel. She did it nonetheless.
Levicorpus, she cast silently and watched as he was slung up into the air by a single foot. The rash act lost her precious time. Severus Snape, though lacking in physical appearance, was a very talented dueler.
They exchanged quick fire spells for nearly a minute before his eyes rolled up to the back of his head. Hermione slunk into his not fully formed occlumency barriers and forced him into full unconsciousness.
Soon, all that was left was Malfoy. He seemed to have lost most of his confidence as he watched his friends and fellow duelers taken down by what he had perceived as a simple half-blood woman. Hermione stalked towards him and he couldn't help but stumble back a step.
Without further ado, he sent a stunner as well as a dark purple curse that looked as if it could severely injure somebody. Hermione just smiled serenely, a sight Malfoy found more intimidating than her rage.
"How does it feel," she said quietly as she cast a ring of sapphire blue fire around him. "To know that you were beaten wandlessly," he licked his lips nervously, disliking where her words was going, "silently," Malfoy pursed his lips and was about to attempt to cast a final spell when she growled, "by a mudblood."
His wand rolled on the floor as he looked at her open mouthed. She just chuckled, looking at him with a pitying gaze and knocked him out with a light stunner to the head. It was at that very moment Lucius Malfoy decided that he was having a terrible day.
It had been weeks, since the first, symbolic lesson that she had taught. Weeks, and every moment had been torture. She avoided Lily Evans like the plague. Whenever she saw the auburn hair she was deeply reminded of her red-haired friend and lover. The eyes forced no explanation.
As she slowly weaned herself off of Poppy's potions, her cheeks began to hollow out and she began to lose weight. Dark, bruised circles had appeared under her eyelids, often making it appear that she had an injured eye. Though Hermione had never worried about her weight, she had been drawn in, a few times, to the Hospital Wing. There, the Matron promptly force fed nutrient potions down her throat.
Hermione's pale skin contributed greatly to her sickly appearance and thought she didn't want to admit it, it was clear that the students were starting to take notice.
The pallid sheen wasn't helped by her obvious distaste for the sun, but surprisingly, her reflexes had improved. She had become even more wary than she had been before, something she would have deemed impossible a mere week ago.
The one thing that had plagued her for many a night were the nightmares. The terrible dreams that would flit in and out of her consciousness, teasing her as they paraded her slaughtered friends before her face.
Throughout the day, throughout the classes, she couldn't see anything else. The shattered spines of Ginny and Neville, Luna's deeply slit throat, and the broken, tortured soul of Ron. And finally, Harry's lifeless body, chained to the wall, the words 'The Boy Who Lived' carved into his forehead.
Nonetheless, she made do. She taught to the best of her ability, not allowing the faces that haunted her past be a detriment her students' futures. So she slipped into her routine, a defence mechanism she had developed as a mere child.
Hermione ignored everybody else, and immersed herself into her studies.
After her first class the rumors had spread quickly. Needless to say, she hadn't had any more challenges for the rest of the month. The Ravenclaws had even seemed impressed by her knowledge and hands-on tips on how to defeat Grindylows.
Hermione had slowly adapted to her role as a teacher, perhaps a ragged teacher, but a good one nonetheless. She had shown the students different magical creatures so far but hadn't yet progressed to actual dueling other wizards.
She would have to think about how to plan that lesson. She sucked thoughtfully on the edge of her feather - only to realize it was not, in fact, a sugar quill. She sighed, shaking her head confusedly and cast a small drying charm at it.
She stretched and gathered her bags, finally satisfied that she was done for the day. While she had assigned quite a bit of homework, she was sure that if the students completed the work correctly they would learn things that they hadn't previously known.
It was a small victory as a teacher.
Tiredly, Hermione finally entered her quarters. She was repeatedly impressed by the lavish bed and curtains. It was much larger she was used to and decorated with extravagant red and gold. Hermione sighed, and though she knew she would get no response, she murmured a quick thanks to the castle.
After brushing her teeth, stripping of her ordinary clothes and slipping into the comfortable cotton pyjamas Minerva had supplied, Hermione finally managed to relax, slipping into her own bed. Thought it wasn't yet nightfall, Hermione allowed herself to relax that afternoon, deciding to sleep early and plan her lessons in the morning.
Though that was what she normally preferred, sometimes she didn't have the leisure for such a lucid schedule. It was days like this in which she spent so that she could wake up early in the morning and start planning for her classes.
She had just asked a house elf, Missy, to bring her a mug of warm milk and several marshmallows when she heard a small tap at the door. She looked downwards to check that she was fully clothed and then called,
"Who is it?" There was no response at first, but then a more fervent knocking and a yell.
"It's James Potter, Professor!" The voice was panicked but she wasn't yet convinced. Hermione moaned in quiet frustration, and approached the portrait with great caution. As close as she could go, she lowered her voice just enough for the painting to hear her.
"I solemnly swear," she murmured, regretting her decision of the password, especially with James Potter so close to the door. Slowly, the small girl guarding the dorm huffed and allowed the door to swing open.
"Can you say it louder next time?" she demanded. "I have magic, not super sonic senses." Hermione tiredly apologized, not wanting to offend the guardian of her rooms. She had the impeccable sense that the portrait could lock her out of she wanted to.
She took a few steps outside, and was pleasantly surprised by the absolute silence that greeted her rather than the expected obnoxious announcement.
"Mr. Potter," she said calmly. He was standing at the base of the door, but instead of looking worried as she had anticipated, his triumphant smirk illuminated the corridor. Hermione only had a second to prepare herself before a large bucket of green substance was thrown on her head.
Her hair seemed to stand on end and it took a moment for her to realize that it had swelled to the size of a balloon, a few strands depicting the message, 'Welcome to Hogwarts!'. The vein in her neck throbbed, and it took a moment to realize that it was in weary amusement rather than anger.
Hermione was a girl who prided herself on her reflexes, so it was not often that something caught her off guard. She was slightly impressed, but simultaneously extremely disappointed.
There was a moment of deadly silence as Hermione, looked at James, holding back her wry smile. James Potter, clearly not expecting the reaction that she had given, was looking rather bewildered.
"No detention?" He asked, still looking confused. Hermione shook her head, pursing her lips as she finally gave in to her deranged laughter. She slammed her hand against the wooden frame of the door, not even wincing as it made contact.
"Oh, no Mister Potter," she chuckled, "you have detention all right." He finally looked satisfied, if still a little stunned. Hermione just snorted, in a most unladylike manner, ignoring the shocked gaze of James as he watched the normally composed Professor break into an exhausted, perhaps slightly delirious, chortle.
They forgot, after all, that she was only nineteen.
"Messrs. Black, Lupin," she called immediately, noticing the spot of air that somehow rippled and froze. "Come out of the cloak now before I report you to Minerva." That seemed to do it, for they sheepishly shed the veil of invisibility.
"How - how…" Sirius seemed as befuddled as Remus.
"How did you know?" Remus finished, looking at her in undisguised amazement. "Never, not even Dumbledore," he shook his head, resting his hand on his head as if trying to decipher a particularly difficult math problem. Hermione just spread her hands in an exaggerated motion.
"Magic," she deadpanned. Sirius rolled his eyes and tried not to stutter in absolute indignation but he didn't truly feel offended. In fact, what he felt was mostly concern. Despite most occurrences, the de facto Sirius Black was not at all incompetent. He noticed the dark circles under the Professor's eyes and couldn't help but feel a flicker of worry.
"That's not possible," he said finally, drawing his eyes away from her gaunt face. "You can't just know." Hermione smiled, a special smile that she reserved only for Harry and Ron. Her eyes suddenly watered slightly as she tried not to let her emotions go. She had been doing so well, but Harry. James for that matter; the resemblance was uncanny.
And she simply couldn't bear to look at Lily, the combination of red hair and green eyes - the embodiment of her best friends was just too hard to bear.
"My fr… brothers," she said rather stiffly. "My friend Harry had a cloak almost identical to yours. Believe it or not, I was a rather mischievous child and got in more trouble than the four of you put together." The three exchanged slightly wary glances.
"Four of us?" Remus said, an eyebrow raised. Hermione tried to scoff at him, but it came out more as a hacking cough. How stupid did Remus think she was? She pointed to his pocket without hesitation, his illusion of her ignorance deeply offending her.
Her fists trembled slightly, a sudden rage boiling inside of her as she picked out the traitorous rat.
"You don't know how many times I've had to remind this generation," Hermione growled, her sudden irritation confusing to even her, "but I am not an absolute imbecile. Pettigrew, get out of Mr. Black's pants and transform, will you?"
There was a second of silence as the Marauders gaped and Hermione winced.
"I'm sorry." Despite the situation, she couldn't even manage a smile. "I didn't realize howwrong that sounded." Then Sirius snickered, and James joined in. Remus gave a reluctant chuckle but Hermione just sighed down at them. Slowly, Peter scampered out of Sirius's pocket and transformed, growing into an disgustingly average teenage boy.
Hermione didn't want to think about the calm she currently projected. If Peter Pettigrew embodied normalcy she wasn't sure what the other Death Eaters appeared to be. At that thought, her heart began to race.
"How?" he spluttered, still looking completely horrified. It was as if, to him, seven years of secrets had been unraveled. Hermione fought the urge to kill him right there and then, almost dismissing the repercussions that it could cause to the timeline.
Sirius finally finished laughing, the barking sound ricocheting off of the walls and settling down the hall. James finished soon after, as did Remus. Peter still hadn't moved, his mouth open in a perfect 'o'.
"You know, teach," the older Black sibling said, "I think you're the first defence Professor I've liked." Hermione raised her eyebrow and couldn't help but give a small, wry, grin. Remus smiled back but the genuine expression faded off of her face just as soon as it had appeared.
"You know, Marauders," she said softly, trying to distract them from her emotional turmoil, "you're the first students I've been disappointed in this year." James looked at her challengingly, and Hermione couldn't help but let out a choked sob. He was so like Harry, he couldn't even imagine.
He took a cautious step back and Hermione composed herself quickly, plastering a smile on her face. She couldn't help the crystallized tears that formed in the corners of her eyes.
"For all the so called 'Marauders' infamous reputation," she said, trying to smile but failing, "I expected a much better prank than the trash you just pulled."
There was another short silence.
"What?" Remus Lupin yelped, looking at James and Sirius in panic. The two in question were exchanging devious glances that almost made Hermione regret her words. Her heart was pounding rapidly, the loud noise bringing a sudden fragility that she hadn't felt since Bellatrix's dungeon.
"You heard me," she said bravely, her hands trembling slightly, but channeling her Gryffindor roots perfectly. She shoved her fists into her robes and clenched the soft cotton material.
"That was pathetic." Hermione crossed her arms, two orbs of chocolate definitely glaring. A flurry of anger rose in her and she glowered down at them.
The boys were echoes of her past; something that shouldn't have an impact on her now meaningless future. James just snorted, looking at her up and down.
"You're what, 25?" he retorted, "We've been pranking like this for years. What have you done?" His eyes were raised, his body language still playful. He had no idea that Hermione would take it so incredibly personally.
A wave of rage slammed into her. She fought the urge to hit something, preferably the idiot human standing in front of her. She was a hurricane of emotions, disbelief etched into every weary line in her face. Though they weren't from the future, that no magicals alive would doubt Hermione Granger of all people.
Hermione Granger, Killer of Rudolphus Lestrange, Avenger of Luna Lovegood, Slayer of Lucius Malfoy, and most importantly... Sole Survivor of the Hogwarts Massacre.
Hermione almost cawed with hysterical laughter, her arms spasming wildly as she attempted to explain how wrong they were with basic, trembling, hand motions. She distributed the abnormal behavior to lack of sleep rather than any real logical explanation.
"I defeated a three headed dog in my first year," she spat, ignoring the disbelieving looks from the four Gryffindors, "Petrified by a basilisk in my second, and helped an innocent convict break out of jail in my third."
Remus looked as if he was about to interrupt, but Hermione wasn't stopping now. Her breath came in ragged gasps, and her hands clawing desperately at the invisible scars on her arms. Tears were welling in her eyes and she didn't even try to stop them from rolling down her face.
The boys all looked shocked at the sudden change in her attitude, still oblivious to the buildup that been happening over the course of that month.
"I helped a friend fight a dragon," she said, her voice deadly fierce. "And was attacked by Death Eaters in my fifth." Remus's face were now subdued, studying her expression as he, along with the others, finally realized that it wasn't a joke.
Her eyes were bright red and bloodshot, her hair a mess, and if she had been in her right state of mind she would have deducted that she looked far more insane than Voldemort himself.
"I watched my headmaster die in sixth, I fought fucking Voldemort in my seventh, in my eighth I was captured and in my ninth..." Hermione finally sobbed, weeks and weeks of pent up frustration and anguish finally exploding into an episode of grief.
She had never needed to conceal her thoughts, her pain, in torture. She could scream, she could plead, she could hate, she could rant.
"In my eighth I lost my friends and family." She finally sank to the floor, an emotional mess. The days had been even more draining than she had anticipated. The cold exterior had finally broken, cracked, rather, and with it any shard of her sanity still left.
Her voice cracked again. "I lost my entire world."
There was a stunned silence.
Nobody moved as they held a small, respectful period of grieving. Hermione hid her face in her arms as she drew her knees up to her head, simply letting it go and crying.
Then, something that nobody expected occurred. Sirius Black wrapped his arms around her shaking form. In another second Remus had joined them and it only took a heartbeat for James to join in. Hermione burrowed her head into the mass of warmth, finally relinquishing her control for the first time in years.
It had always been that Hermione had to rescue, to save, it hadn't crossed her mind as a possibility that she could be protected. She had spent so long in the mindset that thinking of of anything else seemed like a solar system out of her reach.
And so the Marauders sat, offering what emotional support they could give to the scarred young Professor that had fallen from the sky.
DID ANYONE CRY DURING THIS? 'CAUSE I TOTALLY CRIED WRITING IT. PLEASE MESSAGE ME IF YOU CRIED, OMG, I WILL LOVE YOU FOREVER.
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I am… uhm… proud of this chapter. I'm not currently sure who Hermione will end up with, it's mostly either Sirius or Remus, with the small possibility of Regulus. Who knows, I might even let you guys vote on it (; ... So, please follow/favorite/review and I'll keep you updated, about every 5 days, what happens to Hermione in the Marauders era. Love you guys! Thank you so much for reading, I can only promise more to the story of Pendulum.
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Kathie