Hermione has the fortunate misfortune of (technically) still living at her parent's house in Rose Lane. She'll appreciate it later but her living conditions are what started it all, it should be noted.

The Great Hall was lively today, a Friday morning. It wasn't just the students nor the charmed ceiling, the former were barely functional before breakfast and the latter seemed to match Hermione's mood somehow. It was hardly a replica of a sunny day but rather a relatively cloudy day that was only just hinting at the lovely rays of the sun, one of her favorites. There was something in the air. A little je ne sais quoi perhaps.

Whatever it was, Hermione liked it. And why not? It was the start of a new day, all her students' essays were graded and ready to be handed back. She insisted on a cheerful greeting to Minerva despite the fact that she had to talk over Severus, seeing as he was seated to her left. He'd glared at her but by now his glares had little effect. She gave him an even more jubilant greeting in response, simply to annoy him. The seat to her right was empty, though Neville was probably doing some last minute quick rounds to his more sensitive species of plants.

Neville really only got so close to Snape's proximity because of Hermione. If it was up to them, they'd be seated on the far ends of the table, away from each other as they could get. The thought of it made her smile. Digging into her breakfast, she only looked up when a great big mass of various tones made its way into the Great Hall. The owls dropped to their respective masters or recipients and the live cloud dispersed.

Of course, days like this were only occasionally too good to be true. Hermione hardly suspected a thing.

Not expecting any mail, Hermione continued on with her breakfast and was unaware of not one, but two official looking owls that were coming her way. She was startled by the first owl gently dropping a medium sized plant potter right in front of her plate. Her spoon was halfway to its journey to her mouth when it froze in the midair. She had to wonder if there was a particular enchantment on it for the owl to carry it so effortlessly. The planter contained a mixture of purple flowers, each of various shades and shapes. There were three different plants that she could see.

The second owl was close behind but this one seemed to care a little less about the flowers. Instead it dropped a yellow bouquet (which Hermione had to scramble for to prevent a pumpkin juice disaster) and steadily circled lower and lower until it was perched next to its brethren on the edge of the high table. They preened and picked at their feathers before flapping their great wings and leaving.

Sitting back down, she could see that there was something in the bouquet, besides the yellow roses. A very distinctive red envelope. Hermione cringed reflexively. She still remembered Ron and Neville's frequent red howlers. Picking it up, she noticed it was very hot.

That was not a good sign. If it wasn't a fresh howler then the odds that it would burst open with its message soon were very high. How far away did the owls travel for the howler to be so close to exploding? She could feel Minerva's curious stare and wondered who else was looking as well. Hermione was known to get various packages (that were most likely books), letters from friends, and the occasional subscriptions to academic journals (amongst other things). But flowers? She could feel herself reddening in slight embarrassment already.

She couldn't recall having any arguments with anyone or getting someone else upset, enough to send a howler anyways. She flipped the crimson correspondence and found that it was not overly helpful either. There was an address and a recipient that most decidedly wasn't her. She doesn't recognize the light, loopy handwriting either. However, upon closer inspection her eyes got caught on the 2nd line of the address. Rose Place. That's her street, or technically her parents' street since they still own the house and live there far more often than she did.

But everything else seemed to be wrong so Hermione can safely conclude that someone just simply got the street wrong. Still, flowers and a howler. That's a rather mixed signal to whoever they were originally for.

To her dismay, the envelope seemed to pulse in her hand before she could inspect the howler further; it got hotter. She dropped it on the table just in time for it to animate itself, the envelope opening to form vicious paper teeth. An even greater surprise, green glitter showered down as soon as the letter became animated. It rained down on Hermione's food, drink, hair and robes. The seats on either side of Hermione were not spared either and Severus grumbled his immense displeasure at the vile flecks of glitter showering down on him.

Finally the howler started to spit sparks in a shrill distortion of the writer's voice:

Pandora Sorrel! Your stuff is in boxes and I am but seconds away from burning them into oblivion. You wasted my time, you cheating bitch. I'd pity your next string of lovers but that would suggest that I care. Be sure to thoroughly enjoy these flowers, they go great with your scathing personality. Have fun getting the glitter out. Parkinson

With that, the howler burst into flames and ash was now added to finish ruining Hermione's now questionable breakfast. She stared dumbfounded at the spot that the howler just occupied. It could just have been her imagination (she doubted it), but it seemed as though the Great Hall got even livelier and chattier now that fresh gossip was in the air. It wasn't everyday that a professor received a Howler, if ever. Especially a professor as well known as Hermione Granger.

Neville chose that moment to walk into the Great Hall and he roughly sat down next to her.

"Blimey, Hermione! Looks like you've made someone mad. Dunno who it was or what, but I could hear the howler from outside the Hall! Are you alright?"

Standing abruptly, she shoved the yellow bouquet into his hands with a quick, hang onto these for me, before she fled from the Great Hall, fuming at the extreme inconvenience of glitter all the way to her quarters. As soon as her foot was over the threshold of her sanctuary, she started stripping and made her way to the bathroom. By her estimates she still had some time before her first class and she was determined to get rid of the glitter. She waved her wand and attempted a spell over the glitter but nothing happened.

Drat, it must be charmed. She would just have to take care of it the old usual way. She was secretly impressed underneath the immense frustration of having to deal with glitter. Still, her hair was puffing up and crackling slightly in her anger and that was bound to make the glitter situation worse.

There were so many thoughts rapidly firing through her head. How the house elves would have to deal with the infernal substance. The gossip that would most likely distract her students in class. She shook her head and scrubbed her scalp with her fingers roughly once she was in the shower, hoping to get most of the glitter out preemptively before she got her hair wet. Green glints accumulated on the floor of Hermione's shower. She turned the faucet on once she was convinced a good portion of it was on the floor instead of her hair.

Then she thought about the reason as to why she now had glitter in her hair. And why she would need to possibly retrieve the various flowers from Neville at a later time. Parkinson. Her fingers slowed to a stop in her now wet hair. And who else from the Parkinson clan did she know but Pansy? The rude Slytherin from school. She hadn't thought about the other girl in years. Woman now, she supposed; it had been a decade since the war. What had happened to her? She knew very little regarding the lives of most Slytherins that she had shared classrooms with after the war had ended.

The water turned cooler and she remained under for a few moments in an attempt to think clearly and to calm down some more. She got out when she couldn't take the temperature any longer.

However Hermione Granger was not the brightest witch of her age for nothing. She could infer a few tentative details from the howler and flowers.

The first being that Pansy had been in a relationship with a woman, the second being that Pansy got cheated on. That was already more information than Hermione had ever expected to know about the antagonistic Slytherin. Boxes, there was something about boxes. Burning boxes full of an ex's things seemed a bit much but who knew how some wizards dealt with issues like that. Hermione certainly did not, being a Muggleborn herself. She dealt with breakups with her favorite ice cream and a good academic journal in an attempt to distract herself. And firewhiskey if Harry or Ginny managed to catch wind of a breakup.

Onto the next items - the glitter and the plants. The glitter seemed a little vengeful so Hermione could possibly, safely assume that the issue bothered Pansy quite a bit. Not to mention, glitter was distinctly a Muggle invention. Pansy? Pureblood elitist and wrong side of the war Pansy? Hermione wasn't afraid to admit when she didn't know something and this was one such situation, which only served to make her curiosity worse. And what to make of the flowers? That was confusing Hermione the most. Why send flowers to someone who double crossed a Slytherin? Obviously there was something more here than she could see and Hermione was determined to find out what it was.

Unfortunately it would have to wait. She raced to get dressed and started speed walking towards the dungeons to teach her first class of the day. Various students looked on as the young professor appeared distracted and disorganized when she usually seemed anything but. There wasn't much Hermione could do about the staring. While the incident occurred fairly early in the morning, there were still quite a few early birds scattered amongst the four house tables who saw the spectacle.

There was no doubt that the story had spread like wildfire by now. She only hoped that it would turn into a giant game of telephone and the rumors would eventually become too outrageous to be believable.

Finally she made it to the entrance of her classroom (a staircase had derailed her momentarily). She pulled her robes tighter around her and steeled herself before reaching out to the door handle. As tempting as it was to pull a Snape and slam the door to the dungeons to preemptively attempt to curb the chatter, no. She entered just as she has done for the past few years because it was a completely normal day, just like any other barring the incident from earlier.

Her attempts at convincing herself otherwise slipped away as the fourth years' chatter quieted down suspiciously before resuming in what they probably thought were inconspicuous whispers. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes and continued her walk to the front of the classroom.

She picked up a piece of chalkboard and started to manually write the date on the blackboard. With her back turned to the class, she spoke clearly and concisely. "Alright, listen up. Your last essays from last week seemed to be lacking, try harder. It was a boring potion, I know, but there are various things in life that are boring and we have to do them anyways. That being said, I am proud of the progress that was made with that particular potion. This week's potion should be easier. We've already covered theory and I'm sure you've all read the chapter…" she trailed off and turned around to check that everyone was still attentive. Well, relatively attentive for the first Potions class of the day.

There was a hand in the air. "Yes, Miss Roberts?"

"Professor, is it true that you received a Howler this morning?"

There was a quick crack and Hermione realized that the piece of chalk she held had now snapped. She repaired it with a wave of her hand and caught various students looking definitely more attentive and awed now. Whether it was due to her wandless display of magic or the mention of the gossip, she wasn't entirely sure.

"Yes, I did. Wrong recipient. Now, as I was saying -"

"- and flowers?"

It was another student this time and Hermione slowly turned to look at him. The class seemed to hold their collective breaths as they waited for their professor's reaction.

"I might have," she responded evenly after a second too long. Her voice was just as steely as her stare when she spoke again, leaving no room for interpretation, "This is a potion's classroom, not the Daily Prophet's headquarters. You are here to learn and I am here to teach. This will be the last that I hear about this morning's debacle, is that clear? Discuss that somewhere else, if you must."

If the students were surprised at the demeanor of their normally mild mannered professor, they did not show it. Well chastised, they kept their mumblings for when Professor Granger was walking behind someone else's bubbling cauldrons on the other side of the classroom.

Once the class seemed under control, the rest of the lesson went fairly smoothly. The only hiccups were uneven pieces of horned slugs and some jumping toadstools on the loose. Hermione handed back the essays at the end of the class and she mentally prepared herself for the rest of the day.

As expected, several bold (or foolhardy) students of various Houses asked about either Hermione's mail, the flowers, or both. Even still, three students throughout the day had asked if she had a secret admirer. As the day went on, so did the escalation of Hermione's preemptive detention threats. Her third class of the day was intimidated with detention with Argus Filch. To be fair, first years seemed to be intimidated by lots of things. By her last class of the day, she frightened the older students with two weeks of detention, including Saturdays. She left the rest up to their imaginations.

She only hoped that the students wouldn't find the gossip even juicier if this was how she reacted to it. Still, Hermione internally warred with herself. Not all students were as studious as she had been and she understood that gossip was essentially entertainment in a remote castle located in the Highlands of Scotland. But an education was very important. She was in the middle of watching over a shimmering potion when her stomach growled.

She'd been so busy all day that the thought of dinner had slipped her mind, although she had remembered about lunch. She peered over the potion she was stirring and stopped once she'd stirred it the appropriate number of times. She took a second to decide whether a stasis charm would be a good idea or not. The answer was yes, and Hermione wiped away some sweat from her forehead. She applied the charm, removed her protective gear, and started out of the dungeons and towards the Great Hall.

No wonder the dungeons were always cold. Any hotter and students would melt when everyone was to brew. Heating charms were out of the question with volatile ingredients, not to mention any potential interference with the unobtrusive wards and protective enchantments already in place.

She'd need to give her students' samples a further analysis to give them a proper grade. This week's potion was done and she hoped the students would work through the readings this weekend. Unlikely but not impossible. Deep in her thoughts about work to do in the upcoming weekend, she didn't notice someone in the hallway until they had crashed into her and sent her sprawling to the floor.

"Hermione! I'm sorry. Here, let me help you up," Neville offered his hand out to her and Hermione was pulled back to her feet with surprising speed. Well, it wasn't a proper week unless Neville tripped on something, into something, and (in today's case) her. "Where are you heading to? I've still got your flowers by the way."

"The flowers! Oh, Neville, I'm so sorry. I completely forgot about that, despite my students bringing it up all day. I was heading to the Hall to get some dinner..." she trailed off, unsure of which to do first. Eat or pick up the flowers. She didn't even know if Neville was busy right now.

He seemed to get the idea with his next suggestion, "That's perfect, so was I. How about we have dinner in my quarters? You can take the flowers afterwards. How's that sound?"

"Splendid idea."

"Well, let's go then. I'm starved."

Closer and closer they walked to Neville's quarters. They chatted mostly about the students and their respective upcoming lesson plans. Neville seemed a bit excited about something and it made her wonder whether he was saving up all his questions regarding this morning. He hadn't mentioned anything about it otherwise.

000

A/N 6/17/20 - So I started a new thing. The Fox and the Veela is still ongoing, just slowly… I'd love to hear thoughts, concerns, and criticisms regarding this new project. It's been so much fun to write so hopefully it's equally as fun to read. Stay safe!

Word count - 2928