Shortly Thereafter
Draco Malfoy couldn't be more relieved when the Hogwarts Express arrived at the old familiar castle. His 6'4" frame could only stand confidant for so long. At twenty-nine, he was restless and not yet ready to settle down for longer than need be.
It had been over a decade ago, in his seventh year, that Harry Potter had finally defeated Lord Voldemort here, on these grounds. Draco hadn't been back since then. He wasn't emotional, but there were a lot of memories that he didn't want to deal with. Any wizard or witch you asked could tell you that Draco had played a key role in Lord Voldemort's downfall, but no one knew what. It was Draco's betrayal that had helped Harry defeat Voldemort, but only he knew. He knew, and so did Harry Potter.
Draco was nearly run over, as he left the train, by first years. Was he really once that short? He chuckled to himself. No one would ever believe it.
"First years! First years, over here, please." A woman's voice rang out. Draco turned wondering why it wasn't Hagrid's gruff addressing the first years. Draco had gotten to know Hagrid better one summer, years before, when Dumbledore asked him to accompany Hagrid on an exploration to South America, when people started to claim dragon sightings. Draco and Hagrid some how managed to get along, and they remained civil thereafter. Draco was actually looking forward to seeing the old teacher again.
He was caught off guard when he saw who was addressing the first year students. The speaker was a young woman, probably around his age, but she looked much younger. Her sleek brown hair was braided to her waist, but wisps of it had escaped and were gently blowing in the slight September wind. Deep brown eyes skimmed over the list of first year's names. He looked away, as if casually skimming the crowd, embarrassed to be caught staring.
The woman was lovely, he did give her that, but he quickly pushed her image to the back of his mind, for more reasons than one. Something about her was trying to grab his attention, but he ignored it. The last thing he needed was a silly schoolboy crush, especially to the Serena Flasco. Draco shook his head to clear his mind and went to find Dumbledore.
~*~
The Great Hall was a buzz when Hermione Granger finally arrived. She'd had to run up to her rooms in Gryfindor dormitories to change after a couple of the first years capsized their boat. Hermione had to retrieve them and was soaked to the bone in the process.
Grabbing a clean robe, she had unbraided her wet hair and twisted it up into a loose bun. Unfortunately, she had no time to use a drying spell on her hair or wet robes. She would have to dry them later.
As Hermione sat down in her appointed seat, she noticed Dumbledore talking to the man she'd caught staring at her when she was rounding up first years. Who was he? He looked terribly familiar. Hermione's eyes widened. Unless she was mistaken, he was none other than,
"Draco Malfoy!" Snape pushed past her seat, a rather obvious attempt to smoosh her small body between the chair and table and chair. Although Hermione had been teaching American Muggle Culture for five years [A/N: I know, I know. There is no such class in the books, but this is called "taking an artistic license", so deal live with it.(] , including this upcoming term, Snape had never quite grasped that itty-bitty, but ever so very crucial detail that she to was now a teacher now. Hermione rolled her eyes. Men.
So, Draco Malfoy, her arch-nemesis, was at Hogwarts. He looked good, Hermione had to admit. With his robes unbuttoned, she could see he was wearing a grey sweater that exenterated his well-defined muscles in a very good way, and the sweater matched his eyes exactly. He was talking to Snape and his face suddenly broke into a smile that lit up his entire face. Hermione almost melted on the spot before she could stop herself. 'Stop it,' she commanded herself. 'Stop it now. Men are nothing but trouble.'
Okay, so he looked decent. It's no crime to think a man was attractive. But what the heck was he doing at Hogwarts?
Dumbledore answered her unasked question. "Please join me in welcoming Mr. Draco Malfoy to our teaching staff. Mr. Malfoy will be serving as a replacement flying instructor for Professor Oquar, who, as most of you know is expecting her first child this month."
Well, that was an improvement. As former seeker of the Slytherin Quidditch team, Malfoy would, no doubt do a better teaching job than Professor Oquar. When Madame Hooch retired to, as she put it, "She the world from a broomstick again." Professor Oquar was the only person available to take her place. The professor was the biggest bimbo Hermione had ever met. The woman probably would've gotten on her broomstick backwards if Snape hadn't given her a few "teaching tips". "Getting tips" was Oquar's alibi for going to Snape's private quarters almost every night for a month. Sure, she might've gotten a few tips, but you van bet your bonnet they weren't holed up to talk about teaching. [A/N: Could I be anymore obvious?]
Well, whatever Oquar and Snape spent their hours doing, it brought them both to the alter on hot humid day in June, and not to long after Oquar announced that she was pregnant and due that coming September. You do the math.
~*~
Draco couldn't get the young woman he had seen off his mind. What was it about her? He was about to ask Snape who she was, when Hagrid turned to talk to him.
"Changed 'asn't she?"
"Wha—who?" Draco tried to act surprised. Hagrid chuckled heartily.
"It's fine for yeh to be lookin'. Yeh'll not be the first one. Hermione has fetched quite a few looks."
Draco did a double take. That was Granger? Good Lord, she had changed! "What happened to her hair?" he managed to spit out.
More laughter from Hagrid. "Straightenin' spell. 'Ermione invented it 'erself."
Typical. Perfect Granger would go off and invent herself a spell. Draco snorted. Go figure.
"What does she teach?" Draco asked, trying to maintain a casual tone.
"She teaches American Muggle Culture," Snape butted in, his voice icy. "Why Dumbl—"
"—And she does a fine job at it!" Hagrid cut him off. He glared at Snape as if daring him to continue.
Draco sighed. Some things, apparently, never change.
~*~
The next morning, Draco awoke with his stomach in knots. What the heck was he getting himself into? 'Good, Lord,' he chided himself, 'What have I gotten myself into? You don't know the first thin about teaching and you're clueless around kids.' Draco laughed out loud to himself. If Oquar could do it, than how hard could it be?
Thank goodness he didn't teach first period. He could go down to the teachers lounge and get himself organized. Who knows, maybe someone in the lounge could give him some teaching advice.
Draco stayed in the lounge until first period ended. As he hurried down the hall, he smacked right into a person carrying an insanely huge pile of books, sending the books flying. The person shrieked as the books clattered to the floor.
Draco quickly stood up and dusted himself off. He stooped down to help pick up the books.
"Oh Lord. I'm sorry," the book carrier apologized. Draco looked up. Hermione. He should've known. "The first day of term is always hard," Hermione continued, oblivious to the identity of her helper.
"In more ways than one." Draco replied. Hermione's head shot up at the sound of his deep voice. Her eyes widened in surprise—or was it fear? —before she narrowed them, glaring at him suspiciously.
"I'll take those." She said briskly, snatching the books Draco was holding.
"What?" Draco raised an eyebrow. "Are you afraid I'll hurt your precious books?"
"Why wouldn't you? You never hesitated to hurt me before." Hermione answered viciously. Draco was surprised at the ferocity of her answer. "Lord, above, Hermione, we haven't seen each other in twelve years. You might get to know a person again before you judge so quickly."
"Why would I want to know you?" Hermione hissed, spitting out the word you like it was a dirty word. "I know you Malfoy, and you don't do anything unless you want something in return. Besides I know for a fact you don't help old enemies, out of the" she glared at him and then continued sarcastically, "goodness of your heart."
"Let's get one thing straight, Granger," Draco growled, pulling her to her feet, sending the books flying again. "Just because I was less than civil to you and your friends—"
"Less than civil?" Hermione sputtered, but Draco ignored her.
"It doesn't mean I'm like that to every one. I can be civil." He leaned in closer inches from her face, and went on. "You think you know Draco Malfoy. Heartless, evil, Satan reincarnate Draco. You know nothing, Granger. I've seen and heard things no human can wish on another person. I've been to hell and back." Hermione could feel his hot breath on her face and she shuddered. Neither had moved since he closed in on her face, and her sudden movement brought to reality exactly how intimate they had become. Both pulled away from each other, faces and necks warm with embarrassment. They dropped their eyes and took off down the hall in opposite directions, leaving the books. Neither one was going to admit that they liked being that close.
To be continued...
Draco Malfoy couldn't be more relieved when the Hogwarts Express arrived at the old familiar castle. His 6'4" frame could only stand confidant for so long. At twenty-nine, he was restless and not yet ready to settle down for longer than need be.
It had been over a decade ago, in his seventh year, that Harry Potter had finally defeated Lord Voldemort here, on these grounds. Draco hadn't been back since then. He wasn't emotional, but there were a lot of memories that he didn't want to deal with. Any wizard or witch you asked could tell you that Draco had played a key role in Lord Voldemort's downfall, but no one knew what. It was Draco's betrayal that had helped Harry defeat Voldemort, but only he knew. He knew, and so did Harry Potter.
Draco was nearly run over, as he left the train, by first years. Was he really once that short? He chuckled to himself. No one would ever believe it.
"First years! First years, over here, please." A woman's voice rang out. Draco turned wondering why it wasn't Hagrid's gruff addressing the first years. Draco had gotten to know Hagrid better one summer, years before, when Dumbledore asked him to accompany Hagrid on an exploration to South America, when people started to claim dragon sightings. Draco and Hagrid some how managed to get along, and they remained civil thereafter. Draco was actually looking forward to seeing the old teacher again.
He was caught off guard when he saw who was addressing the first year students. The speaker was a young woman, probably around his age, but she looked much younger. Her sleek brown hair was braided to her waist, but wisps of it had escaped and were gently blowing in the slight September wind. Deep brown eyes skimmed over the list of first year's names. He looked away, as if casually skimming the crowd, embarrassed to be caught staring.
The woman was lovely, he did give her that, but he quickly pushed her image to the back of his mind, for more reasons than one. Something about her was trying to grab his attention, but he ignored it. The last thing he needed was a silly schoolboy crush, especially to the Serena Flasco. Draco shook his head to clear his mind and went to find Dumbledore.
~*~
The Great Hall was a buzz when Hermione Granger finally arrived. She'd had to run up to her rooms in Gryfindor dormitories to change after a couple of the first years capsized their boat. Hermione had to retrieve them and was soaked to the bone in the process.
Grabbing a clean robe, she had unbraided her wet hair and twisted it up into a loose bun. Unfortunately, she had no time to use a drying spell on her hair or wet robes. She would have to dry them later.
As Hermione sat down in her appointed seat, she noticed Dumbledore talking to the man she'd caught staring at her when she was rounding up first years. Who was he? He looked terribly familiar. Hermione's eyes widened. Unless she was mistaken, he was none other than,
"Draco Malfoy!" Snape pushed past her seat, a rather obvious attempt to smoosh her small body between the chair and table and chair. Although Hermione had been teaching American Muggle Culture for five years [A/N: I know, I know. There is no such class in the books, but this is called "taking an artistic license", so deal live with it.(] , including this upcoming term, Snape had never quite grasped that itty-bitty, but ever so very crucial detail that she to was now a teacher now. Hermione rolled her eyes. Men.
So, Draco Malfoy, her arch-nemesis, was at Hogwarts. He looked good, Hermione had to admit. With his robes unbuttoned, she could see he was wearing a grey sweater that exenterated his well-defined muscles in a very good way, and the sweater matched his eyes exactly. He was talking to Snape and his face suddenly broke into a smile that lit up his entire face. Hermione almost melted on the spot before she could stop herself. 'Stop it,' she commanded herself. 'Stop it now. Men are nothing but trouble.'
Okay, so he looked decent. It's no crime to think a man was attractive. But what the heck was he doing at Hogwarts?
Dumbledore answered her unasked question. "Please join me in welcoming Mr. Draco Malfoy to our teaching staff. Mr. Malfoy will be serving as a replacement flying instructor for Professor Oquar, who, as most of you know is expecting her first child this month."
Well, that was an improvement. As former seeker of the Slytherin Quidditch team, Malfoy would, no doubt do a better teaching job than Professor Oquar. When Madame Hooch retired to, as she put it, "She the world from a broomstick again." Professor Oquar was the only person available to take her place. The professor was the biggest bimbo Hermione had ever met. The woman probably would've gotten on her broomstick backwards if Snape hadn't given her a few "teaching tips". "Getting tips" was Oquar's alibi for going to Snape's private quarters almost every night for a month. Sure, she might've gotten a few tips, but you van bet your bonnet they weren't holed up to talk about teaching. [A/N: Could I be anymore obvious?]
Well, whatever Oquar and Snape spent their hours doing, it brought them both to the alter on hot humid day in June, and not to long after Oquar announced that she was pregnant and due that coming September. You do the math.
~*~
Draco couldn't get the young woman he had seen off his mind. What was it about her? He was about to ask Snape who she was, when Hagrid turned to talk to him.
"Changed 'asn't she?"
"Wha—who?" Draco tried to act surprised. Hagrid chuckled heartily.
"It's fine for yeh to be lookin'. Yeh'll not be the first one. Hermione has fetched quite a few looks."
Draco did a double take. That was Granger? Good Lord, she had changed! "What happened to her hair?" he managed to spit out.
More laughter from Hagrid. "Straightenin' spell. 'Ermione invented it 'erself."
Typical. Perfect Granger would go off and invent herself a spell. Draco snorted. Go figure.
"What does she teach?" Draco asked, trying to maintain a casual tone.
"She teaches American Muggle Culture," Snape butted in, his voice icy. "Why Dumbl—"
"—And she does a fine job at it!" Hagrid cut him off. He glared at Snape as if daring him to continue.
Draco sighed. Some things, apparently, never change.
~*~
The next morning, Draco awoke with his stomach in knots. What the heck was he getting himself into? 'Good, Lord,' he chided himself, 'What have I gotten myself into? You don't know the first thin about teaching and you're clueless around kids.' Draco laughed out loud to himself. If Oquar could do it, than how hard could it be?
Thank goodness he didn't teach first period. He could go down to the teachers lounge and get himself organized. Who knows, maybe someone in the lounge could give him some teaching advice.
Draco stayed in the lounge until first period ended. As he hurried down the hall, he smacked right into a person carrying an insanely huge pile of books, sending the books flying. The person shrieked as the books clattered to the floor.
Draco quickly stood up and dusted himself off. He stooped down to help pick up the books.
"Oh Lord. I'm sorry," the book carrier apologized. Draco looked up. Hermione. He should've known. "The first day of term is always hard," Hermione continued, oblivious to the identity of her helper.
"In more ways than one." Draco replied. Hermione's head shot up at the sound of his deep voice. Her eyes widened in surprise—or was it fear? —before she narrowed them, glaring at him suspiciously.
"I'll take those." She said briskly, snatching the books Draco was holding.
"What?" Draco raised an eyebrow. "Are you afraid I'll hurt your precious books?"
"Why wouldn't you? You never hesitated to hurt me before." Hermione answered viciously. Draco was surprised at the ferocity of her answer. "Lord, above, Hermione, we haven't seen each other in twelve years. You might get to know a person again before you judge so quickly."
"Why would I want to know you?" Hermione hissed, spitting out the word you like it was a dirty word. "I know you Malfoy, and you don't do anything unless you want something in return. Besides I know for a fact you don't help old enemies, out of the" she glared at him and then continued sarcastically, "goodness of your heart."
"Let's get one thing straight, Granger," Draco growled, pulling her to her feet, sending the books flying again. "Just because I was less than civil to you and your friends—"
"Less than civil?" Hermione sputtered, but Draco ignored her.
"It doesn't mean I'm like that to every one. I can be civil." He leaned in closer inches from her face, and went on. "You think you know Draco Malfoy. Heartless, evil, Satan reincarnate Draco. You know nothing, Granger. I've seen and heard things no human can wish on another person. I've been to hell and back." Hermione could feel his hot breath on her face and she shuddered. Neither had moved since he closed in on her face, and her sudden movement brought to reality exactly how intimate they had become. Both pulled away from each other, faces and necks warm with embarrassment. They dropped their eyes and took off down the hall in opposite directions, leaving the books. Neither one was going to admit that they liked being that close.
To be continued...