A/N: Hello everyone! (Are there even enough people reading this to say everyone?) I realized that I haven't put a note in here yet, so here goes :) this is my first story (yay) so that, coupled with the fact that I am not fantastically gifted with story composition, means that in all probability, this story will not be one for the ages. I also have no idea how often I'll be updating. That being said, I am excited to see where this story goes! Premature thanks to my bff, katie (wish her luck on her 9 hour shift today!) and sister, greeb for wanting to read and putting up with my obnoxious questions :)
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Hermione blinked. All the thoughts she had had a minute ago that she couldn't have stopped for anything now ground to a complete halt. Professor—no, Headmistress—McGonagall watched Hermione with concern. That concern bordered on alarm when Hermione remained silent for several minutes, staring at the same spot on the wall and not moving.
"Miss—Miss Granger? Are you all right?"
Hermione snapped out of her trancelike state and gazed at the headmistress. From the blank space in her brain she pulled out one question.
"How could you let him teach here?"
The headmistress looked at Hermione with a mixture of guilt, sympathy, and regret.
"Miss Granger, I can understand your grief. I, myself, was very much against permitting his particular talents to serve here, especially not so soon after...well, after everything. However, there was little I could do. As a minor, his crimes were not severe enough for the Kiss." McGonagall shot Hermione a glance. "I am not sure whether you are aware that he supplied information leading to the capture of several rogue Death Eaters after He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named fell." Perhaps hoping that Malfoy's help in capturing other such followers would soften her hatred for her enemy, McGonagall cautioned a smile at her former pupil.
The teacher was mistaken, however. Hermione scowled deeply.
"So what, he's a double agent?" At this, Hermione scoffed. "He couldn't just pick the side that had his parents hostage and stay with it? That I could at least understand, even if I would've acted differently. He just has to be on the winning side, no matter what his convictions are. And that's assuming he even has any! All of his miserable life, his father and his father's father's prejudices have dictated with whom he associated, upon whom he spat," Hermione sat up a little straighter, "and, ultimately, in matters of life and death, with which side he allied himself. Draco Malfoy has never had an independent thought in his life, nor has he ever wanted to. He's been content with sitting back and letting the "grown-ups" control his small, pathetic life. Never did it occur to him to actually grow a spine and make his own decisions, or to come to his own worldview. And that, Headmistress, is why I hate him."
McGonagall sat back in her chair, lost for words. This added more complexity to Hermione's already multi-faceted character than she had yet seen. And that was saying something, considering all that the old professor had seen the young witch go through in her time at Hogwarts. She had so felt for the little girl, trying to work through a world that she was intrinsically part of, but somehow alien to. Add to that her overachieving nature and friendship with Harry Potter, around whom danger always seemed to lurk, and McGonagall was astounded at how well Hermione Granger had grown up. Here she was, judging someone not only based upon their actions, but also taking into account the content of their character. McGonagall was interrupted from her thoughts by a soft cough. Starting, the headmistress refocused on the conflicted witch in front of her.
"Headmistress, I still don't understand why he has to teach here," Hermione asked with a touch of desperation breaking through her voice.
McGonagall sighed. "As I said earlier, at the time of his crimes, or at least the ones we know of, he was underage. Because of this, he could not have the Dementor's Kiss administered. He additionally reduced his sentence with the capture of several dangerous Death Eaters from his information. Mr. Malfoy was then given a choice: he could spend three years in Azkaban, or he could sign a magically binding contract to teach ten years at Hogwarts."
Hermione stopped her there. "But why would you want him? And for ten years?" she asked, almost pleadingly.
"Since the war, there have been several positions open after their previous occupants...well, the posts are open, and there simply aren't enough qualified people to fill them. Many who would fit the role nicely are just not willing to risk it."
Frowning, Hermione asked, "Headmistress, what do you mean, 'risk it'?"
McGonagall shook her head in disapproval. "An almost unheard of superstition is quickly becoming widely known, and almost as widely believed."
Hermione raised her eyebrows. The headmistress rolled her eyes.
"It is utter nonesense, but after the war, people are more susceptible to potential 'threats'. They believe that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, before his death at the hands of The Golden Trio," here she nodded at Hermione, "placed a—a curse, of sorts,—akin to the one believed to have been cast on the Defense Against the Dark Arts position—on anyone who would take up a teaching position at Hogwarts, the only place over which he never truly had power."
Hermione's eyes widened. She opened her mouth, and burst out in gales of hysterical laughter. After everything today, this was too much.
"So, let me get this straight, Headmistress," Hermione choked out. "You want me to—one year after graduating, which I never really did, by the way, I was a bit busy saving the world—," here, McGonagall looked down at the floor embarrassedly, "teach a subject that is intensely difficult to master, to students up to only one year younger than me, and alongside other professors three times older than me on average. Oh, but that's all okay, because I'll have my trusty mortal enemy by my side." Hermione narrowed her eyes and McGonagall flinched.
"Are you done, Miss Granger?" McGonagall asked stiffly. Hermione leaned back in her chair, looking slightly abashed.
"Yes, Headmistress. I'm sorry, I'm just a little overwhelmed."
McGonagall sighed. "Everything you have said is true. I do not know what I can say to convince you, other than the fact that we need you, put simply. The students need a teacher, and I have great faith in your capabilities. While I know it is a lot to ask of you, to be on staff with the same man who tormented you and brought destruction to your doorstep, I don't know what else to do." Defeat slipped into her voice, and Hermione was struck with pity for the old woman, who now looked truly ancient. Hermione felt uncomfortably guilty for not agreeing right away, and for putting her old professor in a tough spot, but Hermione just couldn't imagine what it would be like to work side by side with Malfoy.
McGonagall, not having any ideas, just sat there. Hermione was her last hope. The new term was already started, and she was stretched to breaking point with her classes on top of her new duties as headmistress. She was about to concede defeat and thank Miss Granger anyway for coming, when Hermione sighed and spoke up.
"I'll—I'll do it," Hermione forced out. At the look of elation on McGonagall's face, she raised a finger. "But," McGonagall's face fell, "I have a few conditions."
"Anything," the headmistress answered immediately.
"One, I wish to have as little interaction with him as possible. He will stay away from me at all times unless there is something absolutely dire regarding a student that he must speak with me about. Two, if one of my students complains about his teaching, or if even a whisper of favoritism or unfair discipline reaches my ears, he will wish he'd never been born." McGonagall frowned at that. "And," Hermione added, "I will not be held responsible for any consequences I could see fit to administer, nor will I deal with what is left of him after I am finished."
McGonagall opened her mouth, perhaps to contest a nuance of condition number two, but something in the fierce look on Hermione's face, coupled with the determined way she folded her arms and leaned back in her chair, stilled the old witch's words in her mouth before she even formed them.
The headmistress nodded grimly. "I accept your terms."
Hermione got to her feet, extending her hand.
"Oh, and you would also be accepting the position as Head of Gryffindor House," McGonagall said quickly, hoping it would not be too much for the witch and negate the deal. Hermione heaved a huge sigh and closed her eyes.
"What's one more thing?" Hermione added wearily.
McGonagall rose, trying and failing to conceal a brilliant smile while accepting the proffered hand.
"Congratulations, Professor Granger. You begin tomorrow."