A/N: My gratitude to all of you following along with this story, adding it to your lists, and a dollop of cream for all who review! I did my best to get this chapter out to you be the end of the week . . . and I think I made it.

To Katmom the Magnificent, I proffer humble thanks for putting up with me. She's amazing.

CHAPTER NINE

NEW OPTIONS

"Hermione, if I may?" Percy Weasley strode into the classroom as if he held the deed to the castle. He wore elegant robes, she thought. A deep midnight blue, they didn't rustle or billow, but draped with dignity over his medium-sized frame. Hair as red as Ron's was styled conservatively, and a cravat was visible at his throat. Altogether, Hermione thought, his appearance was calculated.

But for whose benefit?

"Hermione is fine, Percy. Of course. We've known each other for too long to be formal, haven't we?" Still, she re-buttoned the cuff she'd undone for Harry and moved to run her hands down her robes in case she was at all out of sorts. That kiss between Neville and Harry had set her blood to burning in her body in a very, very nice way. "Sit down, sit down. Shall I get you something? I have tea in my office just through that door, if you'd like."

He smiled at her, a thin, efficient sort of expression. "Thank you, Hermione. That would be nice. I wanted to speak to you before the Muggle-born students arrive, to give you the first information that I could. Ron asked me to come by, but in truth, I had planned on owling you first thing Monday morning, anyway, to give you an idea of what was going on since, er Hallowe'en and the death of the Minister." He leant back in the hardback student chair and crossed his legs. "Of course, the policies of the former Minister have all been set aside until such time as they can be affirmed by a new Minister and the Wizengamot . . . after new House seats are filled, of course, with the heirs of those who have perished or been incarcerated due to the recent . . . events."

Hermione bristled at the way Percy referenced the matters of law that had circumscribed her life so very much for years. She stood in utter indignation, however, when he diminished the battle in which Harry had lost his life. "Percy Weasley!" she nearly shouted. "Recent events? Harry Potter died that night! Severus Snape saved all of Wizarding Britain! You will not sweep any of that under a rug. Not for anything. I won't allow it."

"You?" Percy angled a brow, seeming entirely unruffled by her diatribe. "I'm still working on working getting you able to appear in the Ministry. In public, Hermione. Best leave the lectern here at Hogwarts when you do," he advised in a dry way.

Still seething inwardly, she retreated to her chair. "Fine. I'll do my best. For now."

Percy Weasley nodded as if to a recalcitrant child before continuing. "At this stage, we at the Ministry—all of us who have met over the past frenetic days—agree that the persecution of the Muggle-born must end and a means found to relocate those who have fled England. We are not so numerous that we can afford to lose anyone, no matter their blood status."

"There shouldn't be 'blood status' anymore," Hermione countered. "We're all witches or wizards. Period. Why make distinctions? I understand that we need to be some measures taken to keep the Statute of Secrecy, of course, and the families of Muggle-born witches and wizards should be made to know these things most clearly." That her own family were beyond any such measures was something she did not dwell upon at the moment. "But why make distinctions in the wizarding world?"

Percy appeared taken aback by her blunt question. "What? Why wouldn't we? Blood tells, Hermione."

"Tells what?" Inbreeding was on the tip of her tongue, but she held it in. "I've been working with all blood statuses since I've been at Hogwarts and, aside from strong, physical, family traits, I don't see differences."

Percy frowned and, perhaps subconsciously, touched his hair. Which was red as any Weasley's. "It doesn't really matter for today, Hermione. Today," he went on, clearing his throat and rising to his feet, "I mean to answer questions from your Muggle-born students. To reassure them that the Evaluation is not going to be taking place as it was originally planned. And to assure them that they are safe to move about openly, now. No one is going to be trying to capture them or curse them or send them out of Britain and I hope they won't make plans to do so." He paced a bit between his seat and the chalkboard at the front of the classroom. "I'd appreciate it if you would, er, postpone any further discussion about the distinction of blood statuses until we can meet elsewhere. Additionally—" He spun around, his face suddenly alight. "I have been asked to inquire if you'd like to leave Hogwarts and join the Ministry in an official role."

She was still staring at him in astonishment when the first of her Muggle-born students came in through the classroom door.

"Hermione?" She heard three raps on the door to her quarters. "You ready for lunch?"

It wasn't Neville. Securing her hair in a hand-plaited rope over one shoulder, Hermione opened her door, smiling when she saw Harry. "Hi! Yes, I'm ready. Is Neville joining us?"

Harry's cheeks pinked up—something Hermione felt she understood entirely, so she asked no questions. "Er, no," he murmured, rubbing at the back of his neck whilst she eased out the door and into the corridor so they could walk to the Great Hall together. "He made a quick trip to Diagon Alley by Floo, actually. Said he had to meet with someone."

"Oh! Okay." She wanted to push for more information, but decided that, if the men were going to undertake a relationship, she didn't want to be constantly nosing into it, no matter how curious she was. "How was the rest of your morning?" she asked instead.

Harry seemed to relax at that. "Oh, pretty great, actually. I went to see Sirius and Remus and got my broom back." He laughed a little and she could imagine him, ever so briefly, as a student here. How he might have been in a more carefree time. He had been on the Quidditch team, even in their first year, and he would probably have been Captain, eventually. He caught her staring and quirked a smile at her. "What?" she asked. Holding out one hand, he halted their progress and she answered his unspoken question. "It's weird, you know. Seeing you here and all that. I mean, I thought about it for years, when we were younger. Going to school with you, Nev, and Ron."

He glanced down at her left arm and she steeled herself for another onslaught of his apologies, but he merely compressed his lips, patted her arm, and then waved her forward. "Mostly during your second and third years, here, I guess. Before it got . . . weird."

"Yeah. The Tournament was a real turning point."

"Yeah."

"So," she said on a breath as they walked, but slowly, toward the Hall. "How are Sirius and Remus settling in? After living all over the world, as you have, it must seem very provincial to be settling in Hogsmeade."

"They're actually quite content, I think. They might open a shop of one sort or another, and my godfather has the estate to manage and so on, so he's pretty busy anyway. Being Lord Black, he's told me more than once, is a lot of work."

"I can only imagine." They had reached the Hall and she was pleased enough to reach their accustomed seats without being approached by students. After the morning meeting with Percy, she had stayed to let the Muggle-born students express their concerns, plans, and problems, as well as creating an orderly presentation to give to the Ministry for retrieving any families that had gone abroad. Still, there would be questions, she knew.

Merlin knew she had some herself!

Lunch consisted of brown onion soup with a glazed cheese crouton, and roast chicken with potatoes and carrots. A heavy meal, but Sundays in the castle were often marked by many students and staff having a lie-in, so the afternoon offerings were substantial. Evenings were characterized by finishing all that needed doing by Monday morning, so the supper menus were lighter, in general. She and Harry made small talk, discussing what she had learnt from Percy Weasley that morning, and hearing what ideas Harry had, from his time residing in different Wizarding and Muggle communities over the years.

Which was lovely, really, Hermione told herself. And it would have been perfect if she hadn't been remembering—far too often for her comfort—how Harry had looked when he and Neville had kissed in her own classroom earlier that day.

"Hermione?" he murmured, nudging her under the table with his foot. "You okay?"

She blushed, self-conscious and totally embarrassed to have been caught staring. "Sorry," she whispered. "Mind was wandering."

"Again?" He grinned, a twinkle in his eye that felt flirtatious. "Nev wasn't kidding about the Absent-Minded Professor thing, eh?"

She reached for her tea and took a fortifying sip. "I try not to, but it happens, sometimes."

"Well," he said, leaning toward her a bit, "I'd pay a Galleon to know where your mind wandered to bring that color to your cheeks."

"Cheeky bugger," she retorted. "It was watching you and Nev this morning, if you must know."

"Ah," he drawled, moving back and sliding his fork under some potatoes. "So it wasn't the way I almost kissed you?"

She choked on her tea. "What? I mean, er, what?"

Harry just cocked one expressive eyebrow as he slid the potatoes off his fork, watching her all the while. She couldn't help but stare at the way his mouth encompassed the food, even though it seemed quite inappropriate. Her heart started pounding and her mouth went dry as he finished and swallowed before leaning in again. "You know, you have the most kissable lips at the table right now."

"What, what about Neville?" she wondered, flustered and ridiculously aroused by such an innocent statement.

A bit of color raced under his skin as well and that helped her calm down. "He's not at the table right now, is he?"

They shared an awkward chuckle and she tried to change the subject. Because he shouldn't be flirting with her if he was kissing Neville and they were here in front of the entire Great Hall on a Sunday afternoon, and she really needed to find her composure.

"I thought you two were together now?" she ventured to ask after she was able to take a sip of her tea without choking.

"We're not exclusive," he said airily, cutting into his chicken breast. "You know, like the two of you?"

"Is that what he said? That we're dating but not exclusive?"

"Isn't that how it works for you guys?" His former light demeanor darkened a bit and he paused, holding a bite of chicken on his fork. "I thought—"

"No, it is, it's just that we haven't, er, done anything for, er, a while. Gone out, I mean. I thought the two of you . . . would work? Don't you?" Hope flew but a strange, sad, discontent followed it through her mind. "It looked like it, anyway."

"We need to talk. To get sorted. After Neville comes back from Diagon Alley."

"You should do that. Right." She smiled a little. "You look great together, you know?"

"But . . . you and Nev look great together as well," he told her.

She blushed and firmly turned to her soup. It was getting cold as she hadn't been able to eat whilst her mind wandered. She played with the melted cheese on the surface of the porridger, which was what the soup had been served in that day. "I want him to be happy. As happy as he can possibly be. And I want that for you as well, Harry Potter. You both deserve all the best in the world, and if you find that with each other," she went on after swallowing an awkward mouthful of onion soup and cheese, "I will be so very pleased for you."

Looking sincerely troubled, Harry nudged her foot with his again. "Hermione . . ."

"Really. We should eat. My soup's going to congeal, soon."

"Honestly, Mister Pemberton. One would think you'd have learnt how to properly use a semi-colon by now," Hermione muttered at the essay before her. She enjoyed teaching Charms, but could now better understand Severus's perpetually sour expression, after only a couple of years of teaching young people who refused to learn to write a fully functional, legible, grammatically correct essay.

Still, it was done and she marked it and placed it on the top of her stack on the small secretary desk in her quarters. It was something she had salvaged from her home in Crawley. It was a Chippendale Maddox desk, and her mother had it from her mother, proclaiming, "It's mahogany!" whenever little Hermione had wanted to scribble on its writing surface.

The piece had been the only thing Hermione had been able to salvage after Voldemort had killed her parents. She ran a fond hand across the top, leaving the desk open with its stacks of parchment on the writing surface. "What would Mum say about this?" she asked herself quietly. "She'd probably tell me to get over Neville, if I felt so strongly about him and Harry being good together. Or maybe she'd advise me to, what, leave this job and get a new one, now that the Unlamented Dark Minister is gone?"

A Patronus distracted her from her thoughts—Neville's bear. An enormous manifestation of the man now nicknamed Basilisk's Bane, the silvery apparition plowed right through her wall and stopped in front of her.

"Hermione! Come join Harry and me in Greenhouse Three after rounds."

After rounds? That was at least after half ten!

Then, another Patronus entered her quarters and she blinked in surprise. It was a stag. A huge one, with broad antlers that seemed to take up a good portion of the room. As the bear ambled out, the stag took center stage and spoke in Harry's voice. "Hermione, don't stand us up, all right? And bring a coat. It could be chilly."

Both of them? Were they going to kiss in front of her again? Who needed a coat when that would happen? The evergreens in Greenhouse Three would find the sap running like spring had come!

She stepped briskly to the bedroom and warned the mirror, "Do not harass me this evening! I will cover you!"

"What's got your knickers in a twist?" the glass inquired, the voice sly and still demanding.

"Rounds, if you must know." She Summoned her best cold-weather robes; they were a red wool and silk blend that Augusta Longbottom had bought for her for Christmas last year.

"A likely story. Oh, don't do your hair like that!"

Hermione paused in the act of braiding her hair. "I always wear it like that."

"For rounds?" The mirror was certainly being presumptuous.

"I told you, no harassment!" With a focused, wandless gesture, she Summoned the quilt on the top of her bed and draped it over the mirror. "You be quiet!" Then free from commentary, she checked the crisp white collar of the blouse under her robes and awkwardly checked her tights and skirt. She left her hair in its customary braid; it was controlled and professional. Looking "adult" whilst teaching in a school where her former schoolmates were still seen as students had been something to adjust to, over the past years.

But, Percy was on to something; she didn't have to teach any longer. She could leave the castle, find a position elsewhere, stretch her wings. Maybe even pursue a Mastery!

She had never really been able to get the knack of producing a Patronus, so she didn't send a message back to the men, but she did step out and make herself visible for rounds. Neither Harry nor Neville was on duty that night, lucky fellows, but she had the next three nights off and she intended to enjoy them.

Emerging from the staff's residential wing, she nodded at the Hufflepuff Prefects, Amanda Morris and Bertram White. Morris and White were in their sixth year and Hermione privately favored White for Head Boy next year. He was approachable, intelligent, but he knew how to pour oil on troubled waters. That was the skill, Hermione felt, that would prove most useful in coming times.

It was a skill she herself felt singularly unable to master. Like the Patronus Charm.

As the hour passed, she found a pair of Ravenclaws hiding behind a tapestry depicting the first time the Giant Squid made an appearance. "Ten points from Ravenclaw. Get on to your tower, you lot."

"Sorry, Professor Granger."

"Please don't tell Flitwick!"

"It's Professor Flitwick, and I won't tonight. But he will get the usual report in the morning."

The Ravenclaws took that phlegmatically and turned, holding hands, to step quickly in the direction of Ravenclaw's tower. Hermione wondered if there would be a riddle for entry at that time of night or not.

After sending a Hufflepuff and Slytherin couple to their respective dwellings, and taking more points whilst suppressing the smile that threatened constantly as the time to meet the men approached.

Oh, sure, she was curious. And nervous, and anticipatory. But the resulting smile gave her feet light steps and kept her from dreading the meeting. Still she clutched her robes tightly about her to ward off the chill of the November evening as she strode across the Transfiguration Courtyard to the Greenhouses. What did they want to talk about? Why meet out here?

"Shite! It's Granger! Run!"

An errant pair of girls tossed up a Disillusionment Charm as they ran—loudly—across the Courtyard. Impressed, Hermione called loudly, "I'd be tempted to give points for your cleverness, but as I don't know who you are, I guess I can't!"

Laughter bounced up around her and she chuckled as well. Her nerves were largely dispelled as she entered the Herbology sector and made her way to Greenhouse Number Three.

"You're here!"

"You made it!"

Neville and Harry, garbed in basic long-sleeved shirts and trousers, each grabbed one of her hands and pulled her further into the structure. "It's so warm in here," was her first brilliant observation. "I thought you advised me, Harry, to wear a coat."

"Well," the Defense Professor temporized from behind her, still holding her hand as Neville held the other one and tugged her forward, "it was chilly. But Neville examined the plants and decided that a brief increase in temperature wasn't going to traumatize them. It's actually not that warm in here." He pointed to a Muggle thermometer that was preferred by Pomona Sprout. "See?" The temperature read at 15ºC.

"It's like Autumn in London, then. Very not bad," Hermione remarked. "Thank you, Neville."

They reached the teaching table, where the Herbology professors kept all the important, edged tools and so on, and Neville stopped their progress before asking, "May I?" indicating her red robes. She nodded and was pleasantly surprised when both men divested her of the garment and hung it up carefully on the coat rack at the end of the table.

"So what did you want to see me about?" she inquired, looking from one expectant, green-eyed gaze to the other. "Oh, and Harry? Very nice Patronus."

"I named him Prongs. My, my father was an Animagus, a stag, and his friends named him Prongs."

"An Animagus! Brilliant! I've always wanted to try that, but I'd have to register and—"

"Well, you can now, yeah?" Neville interrupted with a crooked smile.

She leaned against the table, suddenly overwhelmed by a world that seemed to burst open right in front of her. "I could! I was thinking earlier of further study, but there's more to life than that, yeah?"

"You said something to me our first year and I've never forgotten it," Harry murmured, seeming a bit awed at his recollection. He moved forward a bit, taking both of her hands in his. "I was embarrassed, not feeling like much of a wizard at that moment, what with one thing and another, and you said— Hermione, you said, 'Books and cleverness! There are more important things: friendship and bravery.' And then you told me to be careful. And we got the Philosopher's Stone and kicked Voldemort's arse and . . ."

"And your godfather took you away from us," Hermione whispered, gripping his hands tightly. She felt Neville's body heat behind her and, for a moment, drew comfort from it. "But it was quite an amazing adventure."

"See, though, Hermione, you've got it all," Harry went on to say, his voice a bit rough but he looked her squarely in the eye. "Books and cleverness, yes. Always. But you're a top-rate friend and so very brave. I guess I still don't feel like I'm, well, worthy? Good enough? to be a friend or . . ."

She couldn't listen to that without comment, so she wrenched one of her hands from his and held it between them, barely touching his lips with her fingertips. "None of that. You've been living a big life, Harry. A good one. And you're here, now, with us, and we're all together again and that's . . . that's one of the things I wished for, for years. Right, Neville?"

"Absolutely. I told you she talked about you, Harry," Neville said, his voice warm.

Then there was a moment of heavy silence that Hermione could not manage to decipher before Harry nodded shortly, his gaze intense. "One of the things I wished for, for years, was to be with you as well, Hermione," he admitted. Neville slid both his arms around her waist as Harry continued to speak and, for some reason, this only made Hermione feel safe and cared for, as if the men were trying very hard to give her this moment for herself. "One of the things I really wanted . . ."

"Yes?"

"Was to kiss you."

Heat flared in her chest and flew up her throat. "Me?"

"Yeah."

"But . . . you and Nev . . ."

"It was you first," he whispered, stepping even closer, so that she could smell the scents of pine and butterbeer on him, as well as a whiff of what might have been Neville's favorite soap. Which made her hot, for some reason. So, so hot. "And I want to, even now."

She swallowed thickly, unable to think, at that moment, of a single good reason why he shouldn't. "All right," she managed to whisper, conscious of Neville's heat behind her, firm and supportive. He had to be okay with this, as it was happening right in front of him, and he—

And then she couldn't think of anything else because Harry's lips met hers and the silent dreams of years sparked with heat as they came to life.

A/N: I know. I am so evil. The next chapter is one I have been waiting to write since I decided to go with the N/H/H triad idea, and so I hope to have it out early next week. If you want a brief sneak peek, cast the revealing charm: Aparecium! Remember, it only works if you're signed in and accepting PMs!

The menu for lunch was taken, again, from The Harrow School sample menu.