I do not own Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, or any of the others that go along with the Harry Potter series. They belong to J. K. Rowling. I have written this fanfiction for fun, not profit. I don't have any money. =P

Return to Hogwarts
Chapter 03

Spring was warm. Spring was friendly. Spring was the time of love.

But it wasn't for Hermione. Spring had left her cold, lonely, and, for the first time in her life, untrusting.

The letter that Ron had wrote her lay beneath her fingers, where it had been for the past two hours. She stared into space, nothing charming her eyes or bringing her out of her trance. Her mind was somewhere far off.

Hermione had thought that her life was all right. Better than all right, actually. She had a boyfriend, a best friend, she was happy with the job that she worked at, and she thought it was all going great. She was wrong.

It was too cliched. She was supposed to be working, but a co-worker needed to pick up a shift. She didn't need the money too much, so she agreed. Figuring that Ron would be happy to see her, she decided to just drop by. Well, he was surprised. He was also naked and entangled in someone else. She recognized the witch as a lesser employee at the Ministry, one who she hadn't really gotten the chance to know before.

As she stood in the doorway, her eyes huge and her face as pale as a Malfoy's, Ron had stumbled away from his lover and managed to pull some jeans on. He made it over to where she was, tried to lay a hand on her, and for the first time in her life she had pulled out her wand and almost cursed someone maliciously. She stood there, shaking, her wand hand wavering uncertainly. He was saying something to her, but she couldn't hear it. All she could see was his arms around that other woman and his lips on her mouth.

The part that took the cake was when the other witch got out of bed and put her arms around Ron. Her naked body was pressed against Hermione's boyfriend.

It was all Hermione could to do keep from casting an Unforgivable curse upon the both of them, Avada Kedavra. She turned and stumbled out of the room and down the hallway. Before Ron could reach her, she disapparated back to her small apartment in the Muggle world. It was there that she allowed herself to cry.

She set her face in her hands and cried until she couldn't cry anymore. Her eyes were red and puffy, and her whole body hurt, but she didn't care. She wished that crying had made her feel better, but it had never solved anything. It almost got her killed, back in her first year. Her lower lip quivered as she thought of when Harry and Ron came to rescue her from the troll. It had always been Hermione, Harry, and Ron. Then it was Hermione, Ron, and Harry, but he never seemed like a third wheel. When he went out with Cho Chang for a few months things changed a little, but not much. Finally, when he settled on Ginny Weasley, much to the girl's delight, things seemed to fit. Hermione and Ginny, best friends. Ron and Harry, best friends.

What had she done wrong? What had made him stray from her like this? The knowledge that she possessed rankled bitterly in her mind. She knew what it was.

Hermione was, without a doubt, a virgin. Even though she and Ron had dated for years, she still refused to give him the "satisfaction" that he would have liked. Even thinking about it now turned her face a more solid shade of red. She never quite understood why it was she refused to give her virginity away to him, but it had been the center of many fights.

She wanted to go back to her room. Her room was her retreat. She had spent quite a bit of time in the past few months turning it around, making it her own. Some people whispered that it was foolish, but she was not going to be another teacher who was just a mark on the Defense Against the Dark Arts wall. She was here to stay, regardless of what anyone else said.

And she wasn't running away, she told herself. She had done enough of that, until she stumbled into Dumbledore during the summer. He hadn't said anything to her about Harry or Ron; instead, he had asked her some casual questions about her schooling. She had the feeling that he already knew, but she was still surprised when he told her that she might want to apply for a teaching job.

So she had, and here she was. She walked, carefully avoiding any student's inquisitive eyes, purposefully to her room. Her students had already learned that when she walked like that it was best not to get in her way. She closed the door softly behind her and glanced around. The soft glow from the clock told her what time it was. She had felt like an absolute prat when she finally realized why it was that her clock and CD player worked her. Of course, she had felt even stupider when she realized that they shouldn't, but that was really beside the point. It was sweet of her parents to get someone to enchant the items to work in the magical world.

Everyone was trying to be nice and thoughtful, walking on eggshells around poor Hermione. It was almost sickening. She never wanted this kind of attention, and she was furious at Ron for attracting it to her. He had called her family, drunk and sniveling, begging for them to help him get her back. They hadn't even know what in the world he was talking about. They soon found out and they treated her like glass.

It disgusted her, almost as much as the way that Ron had betrayed her. Almost, but not quite. She knew that her family cared, and she didn't push Harry away. Harry hadn't even known. As wrong as it sounded, even in her own mind, she was selfishly grateful that Harry was just as foolish to Ron's true nature as she was. He hadn't deceived her. He hadn't betrayed her.

Memories and nightmares, she told herself. That's all they were. At least she had the opportunity to be alone with her thoughts. Her students had quite enough of Professor Granger for one day, and though she tried, she couldn't quite communicate with the other professors. She was too young, and at times, she felt almost as if she was better than they were. She blushed with shame at the very thought, but her mind just absorbed information so quickly, whereas they took time to adjust to new ideas. She felt out of place here, just as she had almost everywhere else. She couldn't help but to feel this way. It wasn't as though she really did belong. The things that welcomed her the most were inanimate, unfeeling objects -- books. And that was fine with her. The last thing she needed was more coddling, or worse, someone else trying to get close.

Her mind wandered from one thing to another, and settled on Voldemort. His defeat had been the highest point in her life thus far. At first, the celebration had been cautious, waiting for a sign of him. After all, Harry Potter had defeated him some years ago and yet he managed to rise again, like a distorted phoenix. However, when Harry had brought solid proof of the defeat of the Dark Lord, the rejoicing was genuine and uninhibited. The Ministry had worked overtime to ensure that Muggles remained safely in the dark about the magical world that lay right beneath their noses. Again, owls flew in the daytime and fireworks were abundant; even witches in the Americas set off their own celebration. She had heard that it surpassed their Fourth of July ceremonial fireworks display.

Harry was, of course, The Boy Who Lived, and thus he was the one to eventually go head-to-head with the enemy of the "mudbloods" and those who associated with them. It had been expected for Harry to do so since Voldemort's return first loomed, and he had seen it through.

Hermione traced a small scar on her hand. She had been a behind the scenes sort of witch, neither Ron nor Harry allowing her to get too involved. Her scar was from a run in with a lesser Death Eater. It was nothing like Harry's; in fact, it occurred when the idiot tried to use his wand on her and it slipped out of his hand. The wand, being attuned to its owner and no other, promptly burned her hand. Freak accident, really.

She spread out on her bed, wishing that she could skip tonight's dinner. Unfortunately, she had already gotten out of as many as she could. Too many, and questions would start to be asked. Hermione had a feeling that Dumbledore already knew what had transpired between her and Ron, but he had the courtesy not to mention anything about it. There wasn't much that escaped the older man, and if it had, she was sure that Harry would've informed him about it, anyway.

"What to wear," she murmured, looking around. She didn't want to wear her classroom robes, but she didn't feel like dressing up either. Something simple and black would suffice. There was no need to be colorful, and she didn't feel up to it, either.

She stood and peeled her robes off. Though she had never quite gotten over her full aversion to house elf slavery, she now understood that, for the most part, they liked their roles in life. She wasn't quite sure why this was -- whether it was something they were born with or something that was set in their minds from a young age (though she had never really seen a young house elf). Still, she had long ago resigned herself to the fact that they, for some reason, liked to do what they did and they pushed her out the door when she tried to cook or clean. So, instead of getting irritated and storming down to the laundry area, she put her clothing through the small door. It wasn't a chute, but it served as one when it magically sent the dirty clothes down to the laundry room.

She glanced at herself in the mirror. She had on plain, Muggle clothing -- a sweater paired with jeans. Comfortable, but nothing special, kind of like her. She sighed yet again, stomping her foot. "Snap out of it, girl!" she exclaimed. "Time to turn a new leaf, that kind of thing. Just because I'm a professor doesn't mean I have to be dour like Snape!"

With that said, she went over to her wardrobe and pulled out a robe. It wasn't the most glamorous thing, or the newest, but it was comfortable and flattering. A touch of lip-gloss (she preferred not to have her lips stained a completely unnatural color) and some mascara finished off her look. She surveyed herself in the mirror. Her eyes were still a bit puffy from crying, but a small charm fixed that right up. Not too bad, Hermione, she thought.

She felt almost pretty as she made her way down to the Great Hall. Some of the students were looking at her much in the same way that they had on her day of introduction. They had a hungry look that she doubted came fully from empty tummies. It still bothered her slightly to be thought of that way, but she could deal. Maybe someday she'd even look at it as an ego boost.

She took her place at the teachers' table, greeting Professor Sprout (she never was sure of her first name) and Severus. The greeting was returned from the former and she got a sneer from the latter. She glanced around, intending to ask Minerva a question, when her eyes locked with a pair of familiar gray ones.

"Well, well. Hello, Granger," said Draco Malfoy.

"Hello, Malfoy," she replied, too stunned to think of anything else to say.

He smirked at her in his usual, trademark way, then turned back to someone on his left. She blinked, searching her mind frantically. Was tonight some sort of special dinner?

As if he had heard her thoughts, Albus stood and cleared his throat. Immediately the Hall became quiet. "As some of you have undoubtedly noticed, we have some guests tonight. They are here, surveying Hogwarts and watching the students. Best behavior would be appreciated, but not necessary. Please be polite, and, as always, all the same rules still apply." With that short speech, he sat back down and said the words that meant that dinner had started.

Hermione picked at her food gingerly, not really noticing the taste. Draco Malfoy? What in the world was he doing here? She recognized the person on the other side of the pale man as working at the Ministry. What kind of watching were they doing?

Her questions, for now, went unanswered. She finished her meal and went back to her classroom, where she continued grading her quizzes. Much to her delight, her students had done well, thus proving that she didn't need to load them down for the holidays.

"Well, now, Granger, that wasn't very nice of you."

Without lifting her head she could envision Malfoy's arrogant stance, leaning slightly against the doorframe. "What do you want?" she inquired, trying not too sound too irritated. It would only delight him.

"Why, I only wanted to catch up with old school mates," he replied, his voice innocent.

She glanced up at him to see that he was indeed standing in the same way that she had seen in her mind. "I don't know what you're playing at, Malfoy, but I know you would never consider me to be a schoolmate. I do believe your last words to me were something along the lines of 'good riddance, mudblood.'" A slight grimace crossed his face at her words. She wondered if he felt remorse for what had been said.

"You really hold a grudge, eh?" he asked, instead of confirming her thoughts.

She shrugged. "Sometimes. If it's important," she responded without thinking, then covered her mouth when she realized how that could be construed.

"So, I'm important, eh?"

She sighed. Of course he would pick that way to take it. Well, two could play at that. "No, not you. Only proving to you and others like you that mudbloods can be do as good, if not better, as you purebloods." Hermione took this opportunity to take a page out of his book as she looked at him smugly. "I do believe my grades in Hogwarts and my sequential college grades prove that I am quite accomplished."

He acceded to her statement with a slight incline of his head. "You did have better grades than I."

Hermione couldn't believe her ears. Here was Draco Malfoy, who had at one time teased her with a passion, calling her all sorts of names and playing pranks on her, giving her a compliment. Things cannot, she thought, get any stranger.

Little did she know. The night, as they say, was still young.

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Author's note: Thank you very much to Zarek for pointing out that electronics do not work in Hogwarts! I had totally forgotten. Ah, well. I attempted to remedy that in this chapter. Anyway, I still don't know who to pair Hermione with, though I do know that eventually this will turn into a romance. Yes, yes, I know. I need to write something other than romance at some point in time, but as I do not have any in my life, I must turn to fanfiction to fill the void! Thanks for the reviews -- please keep them coming. After all, since I am now on winter break (and will be for another month), I have plenty of time to write... so long as I get reviews. (This is what's known as the dangling carrot in front of nose ploy. Please fall for it.)