A/N1: I am well aware that this universe belongs to J. K. Rowling. My bank statement testifies monthly to that fact.
A/N2: And since I am not JKR and this site has "fanfiction" in its name and address, this story will mix canon, fanon, and whatever else emerges from my imagination. You have been warned.
A/N3: Speaking of warning, the 'real world' will make an occasional appearance. Any statements made concerning the Royal Family are the views of the fictional characters speaking them and should NOT be considered the opinion of the author. Especially since I have no dog in that fight, considering where I live.
As always, the staff of Hogwarts held a meeting the day before students arrived for the fall term. The headmaster welcomed everyone back to the castle and relayed a few last-minute schedule changes before dismissing all but the House heads. His eyes having followed Quirinius Quirrell until the door closed behind him, Dumbledore commented to the smaller group, "This is the first time since Voldemort was rejected for the posting that a Defence Against the Dark Arts professor has remained for a second year."
"That is but a load of tosh," McGonnagall disputed. "We had four that agreed to only one year ahead of time, one witch who chose to stay home after her maternity leave, and over half a dozen who simply took the position until the subject they really wanted to teach became available–whether here or at another school. The only tragedies are that mid-air collision while refereeing a Quidditch match and the one who got too close to one of Professor Kettleburn's more exotic creatures. And if you recall, after Curse-Breaker Rakepick–who was overqualified for the position–left, Amelia Bones loaned us an auror on medical desk duty while Quirinius achieved his mastery."
The aged wizard shook his head sadly. "I fear that poor boy may have stumbled across Voldemort during his travels and was influenced or perhaps even possessed by him."
"That is far beyond enough, Albus," his deputy spat. "I'll not be having you spread such a mendacity."
"Minerva," he warned her gently, "do not underestimate the power of the Dark Lord."
Snape rolled his eyes and sneered, "I didn't know you ventured to the muggle world for light entertainment."
"I beg your pardon, my boy?"
"Never mind," the potions professor waved away the allusion which had flown at hyperspace speed above the headmaster's multi-colored hat, "you'll believe what you will, no matter what proofs are offered."
"Albus, just to satisfy my curiosity–" McGonagall began.
Interrupting, Snape coughed, "Like a cat."
He ignored the glare she shot him before she stated her question, "Who had you picked to fall prey to the so-called curse this year, had Quirinius not returned?"
"Well," he shuffled a stack of parchment, "I had received a query from Gilderoy Lockhart."
Professors Sprout and Flitwick immediately abandoned their pose of tennis match observers to join in the resultant hubbub. That discussion became so vociferous that the house ghosts dropped by to check on them.
The next day Harry had his hands full, trying to comfort Hermione. The summer revelations in the latest book about Princess Diana had her alternately crying and wringing her hands. "To be hit by this so soon after her father's death... And those poor boys," she exclaimed, "what they must be going through with what those awful people are saying about their mother."
"Mione, breathe," he advised. "People are always going to talk about her, as she is an international figure. And some of the things they say, true or untrue, will not be nice."
"Still–!"
"Wills and Little Harry are as sheltered as possible. She spends as much time with them as she can and warned them in advance that things could get dicey."
"But her wedding!–Mum plays videotape every summer!–the fairy tale is over!" she wailed disjointedly.
"Give me a hand, guys," he pleaded to the others, who had initially stepped back to allow Harry to handle it, as he was closest with the Royal Family.
"Happy endings don't come for everyone," Neville spoke softly. "You and Draco are the lucky ones. Harry's parents are dead, and, barring a miracle, mine might as well be. Those boys have two parents who love them and will let them know that they love them, even if they don't all live together in the future."
"He's right," Draco put in. "And besides, if we all get down in the dumps over this, we will be letting Her Highness and Her Majesty down."
Hermione gave one last sniff before applying a glamour to hide her blotchy complexion. "You are right. They are depending upon us to continue on." She gave the boys a shaky smile and turned to the blond. "So, you owled that you had an action proposal?"
"Well," Draco drawled, "as head of the school board, my father got a list of the grades for last school year, and he wasn't overly impressed. He has suggested that we form tutoring or class mentoring sessions to make sure that no one is left behind."
"That sounds good," Harry admitted, "but won't that wear us pretty thin?"
"It doesn't have to be just us," Neville pointed out. "We can ask the rest of our year to volunteer time in a subject that they feel confident in."
"It is even possible," Hermione mused, her distress put aside, "for the same person to be on both ends of tutoring, as all have strengths and weaknesses. That will help erase the stigma of having to ask for help, if they understand that they can also offer it."
"That's a great way to present it," Draco agreed, "but we can sort out the details later. It's time to go socialize in the other cars before inviting our classmates back here."
"Maybe we can even sound out some of them on the idea while we're at it."
"Glinda, Hermione," Harry groused, "let us have a little fun before we start working."
"Did you see him in the passageway? He looks even better than he did last year."
"Mari, I looked up his birthday. He is over eighteen months younger than you. In a few years that won't make a difference but right now it does. You're developing and he and his classmates have yet to hit puberty."
"That's all to my advantage." She adjusted her posture and admired her new chest adornments.
"I don't think he is looking for a relationship now."
"Well, with that 'Countess Hermione' around, he never will be. There must be some way to distract her…"
"Honestly, I've watched them together. They act more like siblings."
"So you say, Cho-Cho. I still believe she is competition."
"He's in a different year and house, plus Gryffindor's table is on the other side of the Great Hall. How do you plan to get close to him?"
"Stop being such a downer. There is always some mixing during class changes."
"That's true enough…" Her voice trailed away as her eyes drifted to the corridor.
"Who are you looking at? Is he coming back? Move over! Oh, it's just that Hufflepuff with the cheekbones."
"He's helping some firsties who are already homesick. I bet he makes prefect next year."
"Stop staring at him and pay attention. We'll have to snag a copy of the second year's schedule and pick out the best time to approach him."
"We? How did I get pulled into this?"