Title: The Bermuda Triangle

Summary: A plane crashes near the Bermuda Triangle and apparently all on board are killed. All, that is, but a mother and her daughter. The Triangle's magic transports the two into the Forbidden Forest and questions arise when the young mother leads her teenage daughter to the school—everybody thought the Gryffindor was dead, but she's here now and her daughter has curly blonde hair and is sorted into Slytherin. What is going on here?

Pairings: Past Hermione/Draco…present Harry/Ginny…who knows what else…

Author: Silver Sparklze

Started: 7th September 2003

Reason For Writing: This story was started as a challenge issued by Sage: The Dark Dryad. Let it be known that I NEVER turn down a challenge…*Ash's sister* LIAR!

Hermione walked over to the High Table, and groaned, when she noticed the only empty seat was between Draco and Ron. Great, the two people she really didn't need to talk to right now. Sighing, she sat down between them, and looked straight ahead.

"Now that's all over, let's eat!" Albus said, beaming, and Hermione watched, as everyone, including the teachers dug in. Hermione picked at her food unenthusiastically, not really feeling like eating at all, she was so nervous.

"So, the Gryffinwhore coward has slunk back into the Wizarding World." Draco hissed. "What was it like, living in the muggle world, where mudblood sluts like you belong?" Hermione ignored he pain that his words caused, and focused on taking the smallest, neatest bites she could manage.

"It was quite nice, actually," She said eventually, "I know that Jillian has benefited from being taught both magic, and practical things." She smirked slightly, an expression that she'd picked up both from Draco, and from her little golden-haired angel.

"Jillian?" Ron frowned, having picked up on some of the conversation.

"My daughter," Hermione pointed to where her daughter was having a conversation with the two girls sitting on either side of her. She suspected it was more, from the challenging gleam in her daughter's eyes, and the scowl on the prissy blonde's face. "Jillian Hope Kaida Granger."

"Hope? What kind of a middle name is Hope?" Draco sneered. Hermione smiled softly.

"When her father dumped me, and I found out that I was pregnant, I lost all hope. I even lost the will to live. But I carried on for her. And when she was born, and I looked at her tiny perfect face, I hoped, no, I knew that everything was going to be all right. So that's where the middle name came from." Ginny, who was sitting next to Ron, leant over.

"Wow," She said, "That's so sweet. And it must have been so hard, having Jillian just out of school."

"What do you mean? I was still in school. That's why I chose WWA for my last year of Magical Education, because it has a special program for young mothers, and pregnant students."

"You really are a little slut. You acted all broken up because I dump you, then, within days; you must have gotten a new toy. Wait, no, you're more than a slut, you're a two bit whore." Draco hissed to Hermione under his breath, so that only she heard.

"You know, Draco, one day, you're going to realise what you've said, and you're going to beg me for forgiveness. And when that day comes, I'm going to laugh." With that, Hermione ignored Draco for the rest of the meal, and managed to enjoy what was left.

***

Hermione glanced around the classroom nervously, trying not to let her fears show on her face. What if they didn't like her? She bit her lower lip, chewing on it anxiously. Perhaps she should wait a while, and do the basics first. The Slytherin and Gryffindor third years filed in, leaving her no more time to worry. Hermione noticed that Jillian walked in alone, and sat by herself at the front of the room.

That is, she was alone until a girl with messy red-gold curls walked over, and sat down next to her. Hermione grinned inside. She recognised that look, the girl was obviously a Weasley. And with those violet eyes and flawless skin, she must be part Veela too. That left only one Weasley male. Bill. Hermione clapped her hands, signalling that she wanted quiet.

"Ok, class," She said, "My name's Hermione Granger, and I'm your new HOM Professor," A blonde girl at the back who was lounging in her seat raised her hand. "Yes, Miss…"

"Zabini, Professor," The girl smirked. "Just wanted to ask, are you not the muggle-born who used to hang around with the Potter, and his sidekick, before some guy got you pregnant, and you were expelled?"

"Yes, I used to be friends with Ron and Harry, but no, I wasn't expelled. Sorry, but your source has the wrong info. Perhaps they should think before they speak?" Hermione smiled sweetly. "Now, as you know, my name's Hermione, and since I haven't been a teacher before, and I'll keep looking over my shoulder if you call me Professor Granger, you can all just call me Hermione. This is a privilege, mind, so don't abuse it. Now," Once again, she was interrupted, this time, by someone knocking on the door. "Just a moment."

Hermione strode over to the door, and opened it. Standing outside was a teenage girl with waist-length straight dark brown hair, sunglasses, black clothes, and a walkman playing.

"Er…yes?" Hermione said. The girl cracked her gum.

"You Hermione Granger?" She asked.

"Yes,"

"The Hermione Granger who teaches HOM?"

"Yes…" The girl took off her sunglasses, and stared hard at Hermione with dark brown eyes heavily outlined by kohl.

"Strange," She said, "You look too young." Hermione stiffened.

"Now look here, young lady," She began. The girl gave a harsh laugh.

"Young? Funny. The name's Melisande. Melisande Braedoin. I'm the Elf."

"Oh!" Hermione smiled. "Nice to meet you, Melisande."

"Mel'll do. Back at ya. Can I come in?"

"Of course," Hermione stepped aside, letting Melisande walk in ahead. The class seemed to gulp, as the dark, dangerous looking girl walked in. "Class, this is Melisande Braedoin. She's going to be telling us a little bit about Medieval Witchery."

"Too right. But first, I'm gonna take off my weapons. They're getting annoying." Melisande took off her walkman and her sunglasses, putting them down on the desk. Then, slowly, she began to unload all her weapons, starting with a sword in a hilt under her leather jacket. The class gasped as one. Melisande grinned, and whipped it through the air, creating a strange humming sound. "You like?" She laid it down in front of her.

"Called a Katana. One of the finest blades in the world. I keep it nice and sharp," She ran her finger along the blade, and a drop of blood formed. She held up her finger to the class. "It'll cut through bone, and not even feel the obstruction. Nice, huh?" Next, she took out a quiver of arrows, and a crossbow. "Never know when you'll need one of these." She said, grinning at them. Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"Okay…she's mental, no problem." She muttered.

"What was that, Hermione?" Melisande turned around, looking extremely innocent.

"Nothing."

"Anyway, back to the weapons." Melisande took out a bundle of bottles.

"What're those?" The Zabini girl called out.

"Poisons for my darts." Melisande pulled a bunch of darts out of one of her pockets. "And last, but not least…" Melisande knelt down, and took out of her left boot a slender piece of wood with a crystal on the end, and a silver dagger. "Oh! Almost forgot, good 'ol Pointer!" She took out a nasty looking stake from between her rather ample breasts, over which the top strained. "A good staking never hurt no one, and it's a favourite pass-time of mine." She grinned nastily.

"Ahem, that's wonderful, thank you so much." Hermione interrupted hastily. "You could start with…your childhood? What was it like?"

"Pretty simple." Melisande sat on the desk, and swung her legs. "My life was full of blood, vermin, nasty insects, and disease. That answer the question? Oh, and the Medieval people weren't too big on plumbing or hygiene either. If I weren't an Elf, I'd have cavities the size of craters. As it is, I have to be so careful what I eat. Not coz of that, though. You know what they say, a moment on the lips, a lifetime on the hips. And that's a very long time when you're kinda immortal. Fancy that.

"And you need to listen when I'm speaking, or at least pretend, instead of writing sweet nothings to lover-boy over there." Melisande nodded from the Zabini girl to a pimply, rather plump Slytherin. The poor child looked horrified, and Hermione had a hard time suppressing a smile. Jillian, she noticed, had no such control. She was snickering her head off.

"Ahem, thank you." Hermione said, pressing a hand to her temple. It was going to be a long day.