Prosper Pannychis stood at the head of the room, in front of the table laden with breakfast, steam wafting up from the golden plates. He smiled at the collective teachers and clapped his hands together.
"Alright troops," he said in a booming voice, "I want to thank you all for being here this morning."
Hermione heard a snort next to her and she hid a grin. She chanced a look at Neville, whose eyes widened, realizing he had been caught. "Like we have a choice," she whispered. He grinned back.
"I know it's been hard saying goodbye to Minerva, who, like Albus before her, has been such a constant figure at Hogwarts, especially with all that fuss last year with the Board about who would be her replacement. I know I'll never be able to fully fill the hole she has left in Hogwarts, but I want to bring a fresh eye to this school and a new energy. It's been great these past ten years in America, first at Academy 51 in Nevada and then at the Salem Witches' Institute in Massachusetts, but I'm happy to be back in Britain. I hope we can all work together to make this upcoming year a strong, successful, and - most importantly - fun one!" He beamed and looked around expectantly at the teachers, most of whom were staring at his, slightly glassy-eyed, a few yawning or blinking rapidly to stop themselves from falling asleep.
Hermione surreptitiously glanced around. What was he waiting for? It seems one of the professors had figured it out. A few claps rang out in the stone-walled room. Everyone caught on quickly, putting their hands together a few times.
Pannychis beamed. "Help yourselves to breakfast, everybody. And I can't wait to get to know all of you better in these coming months!" His eyes cast around for a professor to talk to, and Hermione looked away quickly. Please don't talk to me, please don't talk to me. She glanced around and let out a small sigh of relief when she saw him talking to Professor Vector.
Hermione had smiled politely through the (far too long) speech, and it was a testament to how used to his presence she had become that she did not jump at the silk-smooth whisper next to her left ear. "It's far too early for pleasantries." There was a faint note of a drawl in the smoky voice.
She chuckled despite her proximity to Pannychis. "In general, or just for you? Bc time must constantly be surpassing you if you think the latter," she muttered. She turned slightly and quirked an eyebrow at the Potions master.
"If that must be, then you must be perennially be late to take care of your appearance." His stony glare would have tricked 90% of the residents of Hogwarts, but not Hermione.
"Zabini," she said, leveling him with a look of her own.
"Granger."
They maintained, unblinkingly, for a long moment before Hermione's resolve crumbled and her lips quirked up in a grin. The corners of Blaise Zabini's eyes crinkled.
"Hallo, Blaise," she said, pulling the man into a hug. He let out his customary dignified noise of dissent - which she customarily ignored - before hugging her back gently. "How was your holiday?"
He pursed his lips. "Dreadful as ever. Mother made me put in appearances."
"And how is Ms. Zabini?"
"Thrilled to be the new Lady Capriano. She's ever so proud of him. This one might even make it to five years."
"Five," she said, keeping a straight face, "You must really like your new daddy to give him such a hopeful term."
A loud exhale was forced from his proud, perfect nose, but the sparkle in his verdigris eyes told his amusement in this - one of their many games.
"And how is dear Alfred? The armada as strong as ever, I presume."
Hermione's smile faltered. "We broke up."
His mask of mild condescension slipped and in its place was genuine concern and regret. "Oh, Hermione, I'm sorry. I didn't-"
"No, of course you didn't. It's fine. I ended it. He was just too-" Blaise nodded. She had told him about it all.
It had come as a surprise to all - most to the the pair themselves - when the two new teachers, who had been as far apart as it could be while students, found a bond as coworkers and, later, friends. Years and a War had scraped away the veneer of house differences and teen rivalries to show them that a very similar makeup lay under the two armors. Hermione - knowing Blaise had taken his mother (the one person on earth he would admit to loving) and hid when Voldemort rallied his troops against the castle, returning when the battle was done to help rebuild the fortifications of a collapsed castle and reputation - had offered up a new start, a blank slate. And Blaise - who came forward with the revealing of a well-hid longtime respect for the winning side and a quiet acceptance of the witch as his equal, both in talent and beliefs - had accepted it and had offered trust in return.
"Ruddy twat, I always thought," murmured Blaise as he filled a mug with coffee.
Hermione snorted. "Oh did you?" she asked, carefully selecting some pastries and placing them on her stacked plates. "And you didn't want to share?"
"And steal that lovely opportunity from Weasley? How could I?" He held open the door for her, falling into step a few paces later. "How is the Cannon, anyways?"
She rolled her eyes at the nickname
("Because of his team?"
"That's hardly imaginative. It's also because his blundering on is so loud."
"Oh how scathing."
He had given her a rare, cheeky smile.)
and held open the door to her office. "Thrilled." Once they had seated themselves in her inner office and divvied out breakfast, he turned to her expectantly.
"You know how it is. I broke up with him and then was given the full fanfare. I'm pretty positive Ginny rushed out of the room at one point to inform the rest of the family. Something that was said at the end of RiverWatch made it seem like it."
Blaise gave a delicate snort into his coffee.
"What?"
"You honestly think your breakup made it to the news? You may be 'one of the Wizarding world's savior', but you're not that important."
She leaned over to smack him, but he dodged it easily. "I mean, it's not top notch journalism, but still..."
"Why do you do that? You always act like you can't stand those two, but I know you find them funny. And I know for a fact that your radio is preset to Lee's station."
He leveled a glare at her that was more embarrassment at her uncovering of his humanity and soft edges than anything else. It was a look she had seen constantly at the beginning of their hesitant alliance, but hardly ever saw now that they had grown close. He seemed to be comfortable to permit himself to open up behind closed doors with her, but as soon as they were in public, he sealed up and maintained the aloof, bored manner that was his trademark.
Blaise broke their eye contact to survey his impeccable nails, signifying that they were to be done with that topic. He took a moment to dunk a piece of his pastry into his coffee before neatly popping it into his mouth. "She's at it again," he drawled as he neatly wiped his mouth with a napkin.
Hermione chucked. "It's the first day back! How could she possibly have done something already?"
"She took the seat next to me in the meeting-"
"How dare she! Taking an open seat!"
He shot her a look of disapproval over his mug before continuing. "-And then proceeded to sit so close to me that she was practically on my lap, shoving her chest into my side as she whispered her inane commentary on Pannychis and his aura."
Hermione grinned at his slight shift of disgust. "Well, Lavender's never been very good at picking targets."
"Clearly."
"Have you ever thought of just telling her directly that you're not interested?"
The soft slurping of coffee echoed in the quiet room. He stared rather determinedly at his croissant.
"You like the attention! I knew it! You like being fawned over and constantly hit on."
"I most certainly do not," he said indignantly.
"Then why not tell her to just stop?"
"I like to keep my channels open. It would be much easier to get something I need from someone attracted to me than someone feeling spurned."
"Spoken like a true Slytherin. You should know it's not good to lead people on, Blaise."
His eyes took on a mischievous glint. "Sooo, how long do you think it will take Hartwicke to realize you're single?"
"Out! Get out!" she mock-shouted.
"I can't wait. My bet's on one week minimum, two weeks max."
"Out! Get out, you horrible man!" She shooed him from the office, shoving him towards the door, not caring if he spilled his coffee on himself.
"You never know; he might transfigure your affections," Blaise chortled, a deep rumble that Hermione was usually thrilled to hear, as it made itself present so rarely. But not this time. "I feel like I should lay down some hints, see how long it takes him."
"You're horrible and I hate you," cried Hermione, half-laughing, half-yelling. "Get out and never come back." She slammed the door as soon as she had shoved him across the threshold.
"We're still on for afternoon tea?" he said, his voice muffled by the door.
"Of course," she replied, laughing and heading back to her desk to go over her lesson plans.
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When Lee headed into work the morning of September 1st, rifling through his morning reports that needed reviewing before the final update at show time, he heard a forceful female voice topping those of the customers milling about the store. He made his way around the obstacles of precariously perched products and tall towers of toys without looking up from his update on the dragon debacle in Denmark (it had moved down through Sweden but was finally contained around Roskilde) and made his way behind the counter.
"Hello, Angie. I thought I heard your dulcet tones as I walked in," finally looking up to smile sweetly at the tall black girl leaning against the register.
"Ah, if that isn't the voice of our generation with the face for radio."
"Liar. You know you just couldn't handle all of this," he said, gesturing to himself.
Angelina Johnson snorted and gave her braids a small toss. "Jordan, it's been thirteen years. Give it up."
"Never!"
"I heard your broadcast yesterday," she said, a small smile tugging at the edges of her smirk.
"I know, I know. I shouldn't be hitting on my best mate's girlfriend."
"I'm not his—"
Now it was Lee's turn to snort derisively. "Oh, save it for someone who buys that dragon dung, Johnson."
Rather fortuitously, George took that moment to appear, a customer in tow. He grinned and nodded slightly at Lee, and wrapped his arm gently around Angelina's hip, moving her to the side as he took her spot in order to ring up the customer. Angelina smiled softly at George. Lee smirked at her, eyebrow cocked.
Her eyes met his and she scoffed. "Oh shut up."
He laughed and went back to his papers. It was after the customer had finished that Angelina coughed to get his attention. "So…speaking of "all of that," she said, gesturing with an open palm to his whole body, "You think Hermione can handle it?"
Lee's eyes widened as George burst into laugher. Lee rounded on him. "You told her? You told her about the bet?"
"Obviously."
"George, we said we couldn't tell anybody because we don't want her finding out."
"She's not anybody. Of course I was going to tell Angie."
"It doesn't matter that she's your girlfriend—"
"She's not my—"
"I'm not his—"
"Oh shut it, you two," he said with a huff. "I get that it's Angie, but this is Hermione we're talking about. She knows all! I have to be careful that none of them find out about the bet. She'd flay me alive!"
"You'd be so handsome skinless," said Angelina sweetly, fluttering her eyelashes.
He flipped her a rude hand gesture. "Bugger off, Johnson."
"I swear, I only told Angie. That's it. Even Wood doesn't know," said George before turning to help another customer.
"When are you going to get on with this anyways?" asked Angelina. "I'd love to be around to see the fireworks. And by fireworks, I mean the sparks coming off her wand as she hexes you from here to next Tuesday."
"She only broke up with her boyfriend yesterday. I can't rush this. A true gentleman never takes advantage of a lady," Lee said.
"Oh yeah, where's he?"
Lee shot her a look out of the side of his eyes, to which she laughed. "You just wait, you two. Oh ye of little faith. You nonbelievers. I will woo Granger and I will win her!"
There was a pause.
Angelina turned to George. "Can we tell Ollie? I want to put a wager on this and watch him lose."
"Oi!"