Disclaimer: I don't own any of this. Really. Even my character, I'm sure that's already liscenced by someone else. That's just the way it works. Maybe someday I'll be like Michlle Jackson and buy it, then make sure none of you write fan fiction again!!!! Ahahahaha! Just kidding, fools, I'd just parnce around saying how I don't have to put a disclamer and you do. Alas, that day has not yet come, so I don't own anything!
Warnings: This chapter contains sexual innuendo, a bit, and mild name calling. Still pretty PG. Maybe PG-13.
Author's notes: Sorry this chapter took a bit longer then I expected, but it's out now. I'll try my hardest to have the next one out tomorrow to make up for it. Now, reviewers! Thank you oh-so-much! Special thanks time!
Commodore Norrington: Thanks a bundle for your feedback. All I can say is I'm not trying to be subtle with some things. v
Momo: Lovely enthusiasm!!! You have reviewed the most, so you get a cookie. ::gives Momo a cookie::
Miao: Yay! The whorehouse bit goes out to you, kiddo! v
To everyone else who reviewed (I don't have enough space to point out everyone ;;;) thanks so much! It's lovely reviewers who keep me writing when all I want to do is sit on the couch and obsessively watch VH1. It's like crack, people! Commentary show crack!!!!!
And now, on with the show!
Sincerely,
Me
Chapter three
A fated attraction
The sun rose, morning broke, she opened her eyes and she was changed.
The sun was high, they laughed at a joke, she opened her eyes and she was changed
The sun dipped down, they danced and drank, she opened her eyes and she was changed.
The sun was gone, the city slept, she opened her eyes and she was changed
Then closed her eyes again and she was still the same.
Hermione lowered her quill, looking at the words it had left on the page. Not like anything she had written before. Brows furrowed, she scratched a word, then another and another until the page was black. But covering it up wasn't enough, she tore the page from her little blue notebook, with doodles on the cover and letters to a friend contained inside. Taking the page, she withdrew her wand, muttering a charm and setting the paper alight. It burned blue and hot, up to her hands until her fingers couldn't take the heat and it dropped to the ground, leaving an ugly scorch on her new friend's carpet. She stared at the black pile of ash until her eyes burned the sight of it into her memory. Orange morning light spilled into the apartment through a picture window as she picked up her jacket, leaving a kiss on his still-sleeping lips and walked into the New York dawn. Seated in a back of a taxi cab, she opened the notebook again, scribbling a note to her most trusted friend.
Three months later, he sat on the end of his bed as orange morning light spilled into the dormitory from a picture window, a little blue notebook seated on his lap. He stared at the words, as if defying them to make him believe what they said.
I never meant for any of this to happen. And never in a million years did I think it would. I don't regret what I have done. My only fear is that you might be ashamed of me when you find out.
God, I think this city is getting to me.
What did any of that mean? He barely recognized the handwriting, it was not her style, it was not her. What had happened to her?
Brows furrowed, Ron set the notebook on his nightstand with a picture of him, Harry and Hermione from third year. He straightened his red and gold Gryffindor house tie, pulled his robe on and headed down to the Great Hall for the first breakfast of the term.
-----
"So there I am, caught between two of the most dangerous wizards of the day, and they still don't have a clue who I am. So I say to one of them, 'Interesting weather we're having, isn't it?' and he nods and says 'Yeah, me wife keeps complaining that she can't go outside for the rain, or the heat. Bloody woman wouldn't leave me alone about it.' and I nod, quite sympathetically, as I'm supposed to be this man's friend, but he just looks at me and says 'Well, aren't you going to make a comment about me wife?' and without thinking I say 'Why? She's a lovely woman?' and I realize that this was a mistake. They look at me, and I look at them and for a moment I thought the whole mission was lost and I'd die right there when an incredible thing happened. The first bloke starts laughing! He thought I was making a joke! So we laugh and laugh right until the lift doors open and he's jumped by Mad Eye and Lupin!" Harry finished he's story to laughs from at least ten Gryffindors and Luna Lovegood. Ron was guffawing with the best of them when Hermione walked up, looking agitated.
"Well?" she snapped at Ron, a cross look written over her face. Oh where had the laid-back, new and improved Hermione he met in Diagon Ally gone?
"Well what?" Ron asked, taking a big bite of toast. Hermione rolled her eyes at him.
"Honestly, Ron! Have you forgotten your duties already?!" she ranted as Ron stuffed an entire roll in his mouth, to the amusement of a few second year girls. "We have to pass out the schedules to the House prefects so they can deliver them to the students!"
"Ahlrdeeihit" Ron mumbled with his mouth full. Hermione threw him a look and he attempted to swallow, but only managed to choke a bit. One of the second year girls patted his back and he managed to get his food down. Coughing, he repeated himself. "You were a bit late, so I passed them out myself. See?" He pointed to the Slytherin table where Draco passed the schedules out to his Housemates. Hermione blushed. "Honestly, Hermione, do you think I don't know how to be Head Boy?" he joked "Why, I'm the third Head Boy in my family. We practically have a manual on the subject at home!" Hermione grinned and let out a small chuckle. "You need to relax, Hermione! Just take things as they come! Isn't that what you were doing this summer?" he asked as they sat down. She shot him a look.
"What do you mean?" her voice was baring on hostile, as if she expected him to reveal some horrible blackmail.
"In your letters. That's what you said you were doing." he explained. Her look faded away.
"Oh, right, that notebook!" she laughed. Harry turned to her at that.
"I finished reading your letters last night!" he said, "sounds like you had a good time this summer-"
"Harry! Finish your story!" a third year girl begged, and Harry turned back to the waiting crowd with a grin to his friends.
"Wow, Harry must read fast," Ron observed, "I haven't even gotten halfway through mine yet." Hermione blushed.
"Best not mention that fact to him," she muttered. "I wrote substantially more to you." Her blush deepened. "You don't speak French, do you?"
"No. But you do. You wrote in it once." She blushed even more.
"Yes, best to ignore that, too. I was.. a bit inebriated at the time. Wrote some rather embarrassing things." Ron chuckled, taking out a piece of parchment and handing it to her.
"Here is your schedule, m'lady," he joked, presenting the parchment like a pristine gift. Hermione laughed and took it.
"Thank you, good sir! A thousand times, thank you!" she joked back. Opening it, her eyes scanned. "We have Defense Against the Dark Arts today!"
"Yeah, we'll finally be able to meet that new teacher!" Ron said. Hermione's eyes flickered up to the staff table.
"Yeah," she agreed. "That'll be nice." -----
As it turned out, they had to sit through N.E.W.T level Transfiguration and Charms before they would be able to meet this new teacher. Both classes began with a lecture on the importance of the N.E.W.T. exams, which they had basically heard for the past three years. First about the O.W.L exams, then about N.E.W.T. level classes, and finally about the last test they'd ever have to take. It seemed to add to the feeling of nostalgia they were all suffering from.
They began Transfiguration this year learning a summoning spell. It was the most difficult thing they had ever had to do. They were supposed to be summoning feathers, a throw back to first year some of them noticed. Not many were having luck with this task, but Hermione had managed a small feather, and a few others summoned bits of fluff.
Charms also began the year with a difficult task; they were to make a bag twice as big on the inside. They class was noisy and fun, as most Charms classes tended to be, and a few people mastered the charm in class. The first, of course, was Hermione, but she was followed closely by Hannah Abbott and, surprisingly, Ron. After the class was over, they headed to the Great Hall for lunch. Ron still had his bag from class and was amusing himself by filling it with things from his book bag.
"You know, I thought that Flitwick would have picked a more difficult charm for the first day of our last year," He noted, putting a jar of ink in the bag with a bemused smile.
"Don't be mad," Hermione scoffed, "that was the most difficult charm we've ever done." Ron stopped and stared at her, causing her to stop as will.
"I thought it was pretty easy," he confessed. She sent him a warm smile.
"Perhaps you've finally come into your own. Found the magic that best suits your ability.," she mused. "It's about time, too."
"What's that supposed to mean?!" Ron asked hotly, but he never got a response. Ginny chose that moment to walk up to there group with Luna in tow and a smile on her face.
"We just had class with that new teacher," she said. Everyone perked up.
"And? How was it?" Hermione asked.
"Oh, just lovely. He's got to be the best teacher we've had since Lupin. Maybe even better then him! And get this," She leaned closer to the group, like she had some big secret. "He's an American! From New York City! Apparently, Dumbledore has been so desperate for a good teacher he decided to import one!" With that, the group burst into excited chatter.
It was not much later that they ran into another familiar face. Draco Malfoy's sneer seemed less pronounced than it generally had been. Ron and Hermione saw what their friends had been talking about; he looked less cared for, his hair was longer and unstyled and his robes were getting tattered.
"Well well, look who made it to their final year," he sneered. "I must say, I am surprised. Figured you all would have left by now" He looked at Neville, "For sure I thought you'd be discovered as a Squib! Guess not." Before Neville could respond, Malfoy turned to Harry, "Thought someone would have killed you by now."
"You would've cried and you know it," Harry mocked, "Thanks for saving my life last year, again." Malfoy ignored him, turning to Ron.
"Figured your family would've needed you to make some money for them," he mused. "Maybe sell you to some cheep whorehouse."
"How are the whorehouses this time of year?" Ginny shot. "You frequent them, right?" Malfoy leered at her, a smug grim on his face.
"No, she's the one they'd sell to a whorehouse! She's already a whore, why not make some money off your hobby, right?" Harry had to hold Ron back at this comment, but Malfoy just turned to Hermione.
"And Granger! I was going to say they'd kick you out for being ugly, but somehow you subdued your hideousness over the summer. So, probably just for being a pretensions know-it-all. That seems like a good reason." Feeling satisfied with these insults, Malfoy turned and left, his cackling goons following him.
When they were seated in the Great Hall, Hermione turned to her friends.
"So, who can tell me what was odd about that exchange?" she baited. Ron shrugged.
"It was halfway clever?" he guessed as Hermione rolled her eyes.
"No, no, he has a running insult with each of us," she pointed out. "he says that Neville's barely a wizard, so the Squib comment. He says Harry is incompetent, so he would have been killed. He insults your whole family unreasonably about money, so the selling you to a whorehouse comment. Which was rather clever, now that you point it out. But what does he usually say about me?"
"Well, he usually calls you a filthy Mudblood," Luna said bluntly, not yet having gone to the Ravenclaw table. Hermione smiled.
"Exactly, Luna!" she exclaimed. "Now, not that I'm complaining, it's a horrible insult, but don't you find it a bit odd?"
"What?" Ron asked, his mouth full of turkey. She rolled her eyes.
"He didn't even mention that I'm Muggle-born! It would have been the perfect opportunity to bring it up, but not a word!" she explained. Harry shrugged.
"So, he's not as clever as we thought. Big deal."
"It's not just this. Remember who Luna said she saw him with this summer?" Ginny continued "An old Ravenclaw half-blood. And he's no longer speaking to his father. Something happened this summer. Something to change Draco Malfoy." Ron stared at her a moment.
"And remind me why we care?" he asked frankly. Hermione's smile fell.
"Well, I guess we don't really have a reason. But it'll probably be important eventually."
"Yeah, I'm sure. Some insignificant detail like that will be the most important thing. Really. Who pays that much attention?" Ron continued mumbling to himself as he finished his lunch. With something new to occupy her thoughts, Hermione's mood lifted and lunch passed in peace.
-----
No one knew what to expect as they filed into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom later that afternoon. Some, having heard good things from their friends, walked in hopefully. Others were still skeptical about the young Professor. One Hermione Granger walked in with an attitude problem and two confused best friends in tow. When she laid eyes on the man leaning nonchalantly against his desk in the front of the class, she tripped and nearly fell. Dragging her injured dignity with her, she sat in the middle of the room. Ron and Harry sat next to her, wondering what her problem was. After everyone took their seats, Professor Ross stood and closed the door to his classroom. A hopeful silence fell in the room as he looked out over his students and they looked back at him. Seemingly satisfied, he smiled.
"Welcome to year two N.E.W.T. level Defense Against the Dark Arts," he welcomed, leaning against his desk again. "I'm Professor Ross, your seventh and final teacher, and before you ask, yes my accent is real. I was born and raised in Manhattan.
"But enough about me. Let's get right down to business. You've stayed in this class for six years, suffered six different teachers, learned many things and for many different reasons you remain in this class today. Either because you feel it will further a future career or you just want to learn to defend yourself further. No matter the reason, let me start with this: defense is a lot more than knowing the right counter curse in some situation, or what a certain creature is weak against. It is being able to apply all the things that you have learned here, in all of your classes. It's being able to come into a place you've never been before, meet up with something you've never heard of before and use what you can see to come out on top. It's being able to think on your feet. It's a state of mind. And that's what I want to try and teach you this year. This is where it all comes together."
The end of his speech was greeted with silence as his impassioned words sunk in. After a moment, someone raised their hand.
"Well, excuse me," he began "Mr. American, I'm-barely-older-than-you- but-know-way-more-than-you-do, what reason do you have to teach this class? What experience do you have?"
"Questioning my credibility, that's understandable, Mr..." the Professor said with a smile.
"Malfoy. Draco Malfoy." Ross smiled again, his eyes flicking over the classroom a moment.
"Mr. Malfoy, your reputation precedes you. I'm sure we'll get on just nicely," not many detected the slight sarcasm in his voice, but those who did couldn't hide a smirk. "Well, I'll give you the abridged version of my life. I'm 25 as of two months ago and lived most of my life in New York City. My mother was a witch and my father a Muggle. A detective, actually; NYPD. That's a group of Muggle law enforcers," he explained to the confused faces, "I had a pretty ordinary life. Stared at a Muggle school when I was six and magic school at the same time. It met after the Muggle school let out, and that's the way it's done in America. There's very few purely magical schools like Hogwarts there, and they're usually only four years, like Muggle high school. Anyway, after I graduated, that's the important part. I wanted to be like my father; a detective, but I also wanted to use magic in my work and get rid of the dark wizards that were still about, so I became a Presule. That's sort of the American version of Aurors, except we don't have half the reputation. I was in training for two years, and service for three before I decided I wanted to pursue a different life. I moved back to NYC and lived there until two weeks ago when I came here for this job. That about covers it." A few murmurs passed through the class as he finished and one hand shot into the air like it had been waiting a month for this chance. "Yes, Miss Granger?"
"What were you doing the, what, two years before you came here?" she asked with a spite never seen in her before. Professor Ross smiled at her, crossing his arms.
"That's rather irrelevant. Maybe I'll tell someday, but I really doubt that," he said with finality. "Now, who here has ever been in a situation where they had to use defensive magic?"
The rest of the class was spent with the professor enthusiastically critiquing their past experiences. He was able to get the rest of the class to join him in the situation and point out errors and clever ideas. They were all enjoying themselves and at the end of the class a group of people went to the desk to talk to their new teacher. Ron and Harry found themselves in the line, too, with a stone faced Hermione. They wisely did not ask questions at this point. When the line dwindled down and she stood in front of the desk, they saw a side of her they had not truly seen before. She placed her hands firmly on his desk and looked their teacher in the eye.
"Professor, I would like to talk to you about your class," she spat. He nodded candidly. "I have a few complaints to make." His eyebrows raised and he smiled at her. Ron wondered for a moment how her could smile at her scowl, but when he looked back, her face had softened a bit.
"Come by my office anytime. I'd love to talk to you," he smiled again.
"Right. Well. I'll do that. Yes. Then. I'll see you." she said almost weakly before rushing out of the classroom, leaving Harry and Ron shrugging in her wake.
-----
The mood in the Gryffindor common room that evening was very subdued. Many people were studying or completing homework and those who weren't were relaxing after an eventful first day of classes. A familiar trio was found in front of the fire, completing a Charms essay in comfortable silence. It was about ten o'clock when the silence was broken by Hermione.
"I just thought I should tell you two that you'll have to keep up with your own homework this year," she explained, rolling up two completed feet of parchment. Ron looked up at her.
"What, are you not going to help us anymore?" he asked nervously. Hermione chuckled as she stood.
"No, I'm just not going to nag you about it anymore. I'm done with the bossy annoying know-it-all thing. It's totally over," she announced, putting her book bag in its usual corner as Ron stared holes into her back.
"Who are you and what have you done with my friend?" he joked. Hermione walked back over to their chairs.
"I won't let you fail, but I'm not going to be annoying anymore," she said, knocking Ron on the head as she passed. "Now, I have to go do some things. Oh! And Ron, don't forget, you have-"
"Patrolling duties, I know," he said "I have to make sure there are no miscreants out of bed trying to prove that their teacher is trying to kill them or destroy the world and make sure that there and no dark wizards running about trying to kill any little miscreants who are out of bed. I remember, Hermione. I mean, did you think I was going to forget? Do you have no faith in me at all? That is hurtful. I can't believe you could think so little of me! And don't walk away, I'm still talking!" But she was out of the portrait hole with a backwards wave. He smiled at her back, chuckling a bit before he turned back to the table. Harry and Ginny sat there wearing twin smirks. "What is with the two of you?"
"Nothing, nothing dear brother!" Ginny sang, rolling her eyes.
"You know, we should start a bet," Harry said and she grinned at him.
"I like the way you think!" she agreed. Ron scowled.
"I hate you both."
Another easy silence fell over the group as they turned to their studies. Ron let his mind wander from his essay, as it tended to do and he thought about the encounter with Malfoy. So he had acted a little strange. Big deal. There was only one thing that bothered him about the exchange. One thing he said that really stung. "No, she's the one they'd sell to a whorehouse! She's already a whore, why not make some money off your hobby, right?" Ron looked at his sister out of the corner of his eye, seeing what he had ignored for two years. She was different. Her hair was curled perfectly in a disheveled way around her head and her makeup was pristine; smoky eyes and red lips. Her skirt was not the uniform length, but fell mysteriously above her knee. And this new look wasn't the half of it. The hardest thing to ignore had been the rumors. Older boyfriends, secret flings, students were telling hero stories about some hot redhead that couldn't be his sister. Ron still didn't know if he could believe it. He chose to have faith in his sister. If she told him she had been sleeping around herself, then he'd believe it. Not a moment before. A glance at his watch showed him that it was already ten thirty and he had to go and patrol now. Looking down at his half finished essay, Ron stood up despairingly.
"I'll see you all later," he said before gather his things and walking out the portrait hole.
-----
In ten minutes, Ron was already bored with this whole patrolling deal. There was nothing to catch. He knew that. Everyone was too tired from their first day to create mischief. Most people were probably already in bed. That's where he wanted to be. Bed. Not walking around some old castle in the dark, getting lost.
Wait, he wasn't lost. He could be lost. He had been at this school for six years already, he didn't get lost still! However, as he looked around, he realized that he did not recognize his surroundings. This was not good. This was not making his night any better. He tried to find something he recognized, but to no avail. After ten minutes of this, Ron was fed up.
"Bloody hell!!" he shouted, his voice echoing off the walls. Echoing a little too long. It took him a moment to realize he was hearing a conversation. He crept closer to the voices, leaning against a wall. Finally, he was able to make out what was being said.
"Alright! Okay. If this is what you want then you can have it. We'll just pretend we never happened. If that's what you want."
"Good. I'm glad you finally-"
"But, you see, I don't really think it's what you want. You think it's what you should do, so you think it's what you want. But I know that deep down, you want to be with me just as much as I want to be with you. "
"I--I-I mean- I"
"You can't lie to me and you know that. Look me in the eye and tell me you don't want to be with me."
After that there was silence. Ron suddenly wanted very much to be back in his dormitory, in his bed, sleeping right now. Luckily, he noticed an old suit of armor, telling him that he was close to Gryffindor tower. He set off almost running.
It had been a man talking first. He knew that much for sure. And the other one had been a girl. Other then that, he couldn't tell. He didn't even really know if they said what he thought they had.
He had been an older man. Well, older than her, at least, by the sounds of their voices. And it was wrong for them to be together. He was older.. A professor. And she was a student.
He stopped in his tracks a foot in front of the Fat Lady. A teacher and a student were having an affair.
This goes way above the duties of head boy he thought as he said the password and headed up to his safe bed.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Wooooooooooooooo! Chapter three! Yaaay! I hate computers and the internet and writers block and a number of other things that caused the latness of this chapter. I am very sorry, and I hope it is satisfactory. I have nothing to do tomorrow, so hopefully I will be writing more. Until 9 o'clock. Most to blame for the lateness: I Love the 90s. Because I do! Well, folks, review and love!
Rock!
Warnings: This chapter contains sexual innuendo, a bit, and mild name calling. Still pretty PG. Maybe PG-13.
Author's notes: Sorry this chapter took a bit longer then I expected, but it's out now. I'll try my hardest to have the next one out tomorrow to make up for it. Now, reviewers! Thank you oh-so-much! Special thanks time!
Commodore Norrington: Thanks a bundle for your feedback. All I can say is I'm not trying to be subtle with some things. v
Momo: Lovely enthusiasm!!! You have reviewed the most, so you get a cookie. ::gives Momo a cookie::
Miao: Yay! The whorehouse bit goes out to you, kiddo! v
To everyone else who reviewed (I don't have enough space to point out everyone ;;;) thanks so much! It's lovely reviewers who keep me writing when all I want to do is sit on the couch and obsessively watch VH1. It's like crack, people! Commentary show crack!!!!!
And now, on with the show!
Sincerely,
Me
Chapter three
A fated attraction
The sun rose, morning broke, she opened her eyes and she was changed.
The sun was high, they laughed at a joke, she opened her eyes and she was changed
The sun dipped down, they danced and drank, she opened her eyes and she was changed.
The sun was gone, the city slept, she opened her eyes and she was changed
Then closed her eyes again and she was still the same.
Hermione lowered her quill, looking at the words it had left on the page. Not like anything she had written before. Brows furrowed, she scratched a word, then another and another until the page was black. But covering it up wasn't enough, she tore the page from her little blue notebook, with doodles on the cover and letters to a friend contained inside. Taking the page, she withdrew her wand, muttering a charm and setting the paper alight. It burned blue and hot, up to her hands until her fingers couldn't take the heat and it dropped to the ground, leaving an ugly scorch on her new friend's carpet. She stared at the black pile of ash until her eyes burned the sight of it into her memory. Orange morning light spilled into the apartment through a picture window as she picked up her jacket, leaving a kiss on his still-sleeping lips and walked into the New York dawn. Seated in a back of a taxi cab, she opened the notebook again, scribbling a note to her most trusted friend.
Three months later, he sat on the end of his bed as orange morning light spilled into the dormitory from a picture window, a little blue notebook seated on his lap. He stared at the words, as if defying them to make him believe what they said.
I never meant for any of this to happen. And never in a million years did I think it would. I don't regret what I have done. My only fear is that you might be ashamed of me when you find out.
God, I think this city is getting to me.
What did any of that mean? He barely recognized the handwriting, it was not her style, it was not her. What had happened to her?
Brows furrowed, Ron set the notebook on his nightstand with a picture of him, Harry and Hermione from third year. He straightened his red and gold Gryffindor house tie, pulled his robe on and headed down to the Great Hall for the first breakfast of the term.
-----
"So there I am, caught between two of the most dangerous wizards of the day, and they still don't have a clue who I am. So I say to one of them, 'Interesting weather we're having, isn't it?' and he nods and says 'Yeah, me wife keeps complaining that she can't go outside for the rain, or the heat. Bloody woman wouldn't leave me alone about it.' and I nod, quite sympathetically, as I'm supposed to be this man's friend, but he just looks at me and says 'Well, aren't you going to make a comment about me wife?' and without thinking I say 'Why? She's a lovely woman?' and I realize that this was a mistake. They look at me, and I look at them and for a moment I thought the whole mission was lost and I'd die right there when an incredible thing happened. The first bloke starts laughing! He thought I was making a joke! So we laugh and laugh right until the lift doors open and he's jumped by Mad Eye and Lupin!" Harry finished he's story to laughs from at least ten Gryffindors and Luna Lovegood. Ron was guffawing with the best of them when Hermione walked up, looking agitated.
"Well?" she snapped at Ron, a cross look written over her face. Oh where had the laid-back, new and improved Hermione he met in Diagon Ally gone?
"Well what?" Ron asked, taking a big bite of toast. Hermione rolled her eyes at him.
"Honestly, Ron! Have you forgotten your duties already?!" she ranted as Ron stuffed an entire roll in his mouth, to the amusement of a few second year girls. "We have to pass out the schedules to the House prefects so they can deliver them to the students!"
"Ahlrdeeihit" Ron mumbled with his mouth full. Hermione threw him a look and he attempted to swallow, but only managed to choke a bit. One of the second year girls patted his back and he managed to get his food down. Coughing, he repeated himself. "You were a bit late, so I passed them out myself. See?" He pointed to the Slytherin table where Draco passed the schedules out to his Housemates. Hermione blushed. "Honestly, Hermione, do you think I don't know how to be Head Boy?" he joked "Why, I'm the third Head Boy in my family. We practically have a manual on the subject at home!" Hermione grinned and let out a small chuckle. "You need to relax, Hermione! Just take things as they come! Isn't that what you were doing this summer?" he asked as they sat down. She shot him a look.
"What do you mean?" her voice was baring on hostile, as if she expected him to reveal some horrible blackmail.
"In your letters. That's what you said you were doing." he explained. Her look faded away.
"Oh, right, that notebook!" she laughed. Harry turned to her at that.
"I finished reading your letters last night!" he said, "sounds like you had a good time this summer-"
"Harry! Finish your story!" a third year girl begged, and Harry turned back to the waiting crowd with a grin to his friends.
"Wow, Harry must read fast," Ron observed, "I haven't even gotten halfway through mine yet." Hermione blushed.
"Best not mention that fact to him," she muttered. "I wrote substantially more to you." Her blush deepened. "You don't speak French, do you?"
"No. But you do. You wrote in it once." She blushed even more.
"Yes, best to ignore that, too. I was.. a bit inebriated at the time. Wrote some rather embarrassing things." Ron chuckled, taking out a piece of parchment and handing it to her.
"Here is your schedule, m'lady," he joked, presenting the parchment like a pristine gift. Hermione laughed and took it.
"Thank you, good sir! A thousand times, thank you!" she joked back. Opening it, her eyes scanned. "We have Defense Against the Dark Arts today!"
"Yeah, we'll finally be able to meet that new teacher!" Ron said. Hermione's eyes flickered up to the staff table.
"Yeah," she agreed. "That'll be nice." -----
As it turned out, they had to sit through N.E.W.T level Transfiguration and Charms before they would be able to meet this new teacher. Both classes began with a lecture on the importance of the N.E.W.T. exams, which they had basically heard for the past three years. First about the O.W.L exams, then about N.E.W.T. level classes, and finally about the last test they'd ever have to take. It seemed to add to the feeling of nostalgia they were all suffering from.
They began Transfiguration this year learning a summoning spell. It was the most difficult thing they had ever had to do. They were supposed to be summoning feathers, a throw back to first year some of them noticed. Not many were having luck with this task, but Hermione had managed a small feather, and a few others summoned bits of fluff.
Charms also began the year with a difficult task; they were to make a bag twice as big on the inside. They class was noisy and fun, as most Charms classes tended to be, and a few people mastered the charm in class. The first, of course, was Hermione, but she was followed closely by Hannah Abbott and, surprisingly, Ron. After the class was over, they headed to the Great Hall for lunch. Ron still had his bag from class and was amusing himself by filling it with things from his book bag.
"You know, I thought that Flitwick would have picked a more difficult charm for the first day of our last year," He noted, putting a jar of ink in the bag with a bemused smile.
"Don't be mad," Hermione scoffed, "that was the most difficult charm we've ever done." Ron stopped and stared at her, causing her to stop as will.
"I thought it was pretty easy," he confessed. She sent him a warm smile.
"Perhaps you've finally come into your own. Found the magic that best suits your ability.," she mused. "It's about time, too."
"What's that supposed to mean?!" Ron asked hotly, but he never got a response. Ginny chose that moment to walk up to there group with Luna in tow and a smile on her face.
"We just had class with that new teacher," she said. Everyone perked up.
"And? How was it?" Hermione asked.
"Oh, just lovely. He's got to be the best teacher we've had since Lupin. Maybe even better then him! And get this," She leaned closer to the group, like she had some big secret. "He's an American! From New York City! Apparently, Dumbledore has been so desperate for a good teacher he decided to import one!" With that, the group burst into excited chatter.
It was not much later that they ran into another familiar face. Draco Malfoy's sneer seemed less pronounced than it generally had been. Ron and Hermione saw what their friends had been talking about; he looked less cared for, his hair was longer and unstyled and his robes were getting tattered.
"Well well, look who made it to their final year," he sneered. "I must say, I am surprised. Figured you all would have left by now" He looked at Neville, "For sure I thought you'd be discovered as a Squib! Guess not." Before Neville could respond, Malfoy turned to Harry, "Thought someone would have killed you by now."
"You would've cried and you know it," Harry mocked, "Thanks for saving my life last year, again." Malfoy ignored him, turning to Ron.
"Figured your family would've needed you to make some money for them," he mused. "Maybe sell you to some cheep whorehouse."
"How are the whorehouses this time of year?" Ginny shot. "You frequent them, right?" Malfoy leered at her, a smug grim on his face.
"No, she's the one they'd sell to a whorehouse! She's already a whore, why not make some money off your hobby, right?" Harry had to hold Ron back at this comment, but Malfoy just turned to Hermione.
"And Granger! I was going to say they'd kick you out for being ugly, but somehow you subdued your hideousness over the summer. So, probably just for being a pretensions know-it-all. That seems like a good reason." Feeling satisfied with these insults, Malfoy turned and left, his cackling goons following him.
When they were seated in the Great Hall, Hermione turned to her friends.
"So, who can tell me what was odd about that exchange?" she baited. Ron shrugged.
"It was halfway clever?" he guessed as Hermione rolled her eyes.
"No, no, he has a running insult with each of us," she pointed out. "he says that Neville's barely a wizard, so the Squib comment. He says Harry is incompetent, so he would have been killed. He insults your whole family unreasonably about money, so the selling you to a whorehouse comment. Which was rather clever, now that you point it out. But what does he usually say about me?"
"Well, he usually calls you a filthy Mudblood," Luna said bluntly, not yet having gone to the Ravenclaw table. Hermione smiled.
"Exactly, Luna!" she exclaimed. "Now, not that I'm complaining, it's a horrible insult, but don't you find it a bit odd?"
"What?" Ron asked, his mouth full of turkey. She rolled her eyes.
"He didn't even mention that I'm Muggle-born! It would have been the perfect opportunity to bring it up, but not a word!" she explained. Harry shrugged.
"So, he's not as clever as we thought. Big deal."
"It's not just this. Remember who Luna said she saw him with this summer?" Ginny continued "An old Ravenclaw half-blood. And he's no longer speaking to his father. Something happened this summer. Something to change Draco Malfoy." Ron stared at her a moment.
"And remind me why we care?" he asked frankly. Hermione's smile fell.
"Well, I guess we don't really have a reason. But it'll probably be important eventually."
"Yeah, I'm sure. Some insignificant detail like that will be the most important thing. Really. Who pays that much attention?" Ron continued mumbling to himself as he finished his lunch. With something new to occupy her thoughts, Hermione's mood lifted and lunch passed in peace.
-----
No one knew what to expect as they filed into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom later that afternoon. Some, having heard good things from their friends, walked in hopefully. Others were still skeptical about the young Professor. One Hermione Granger walked in with an attitude problem and two confused best friends in tow. When she laid eyes on the man leaning nonchalantly against his desk in the front of the class, she tripped and nearly fell. Dragging her injured dignity with her, she sat in the middle of the room. Ron and Harry sat next to her, wondering what her problem was. After everyone took their seats, Professor Ross stood and closed the door to his classroom. A hopeful silence fell in the room as he looked out over his students and they looked back at him. Seemingly satisfied, he smiled.
"Welcome to year two N.E.W.T. level Defense Against the Dark Arts," he welcomed, leaning against his desk again. "I'm Professor Ross, your seventh and final teacher, and before you ask, yes my accent is real. I was born and raised in Manhattan.
"But enough about me. Let's get right down to business. You've stayed in this class for six years, suffered six different teachers, learned many things and for many different reasons you remain in this class today. Either because you feel it will further a future career or you just want to learn to defend yourself further. No matter the reason, let me start with this: defense is a lot more than knowing the right counter curse in some situation, or what a certain creature is weak against. It is being able to apply all the things that you have learned here, in all of your classes. It's being able to come into a place you've never been before, meet up with something you've never heard of before and use what you can see to come out on top. It's being able to think on your feet. It's a state of mind. And that's what I want to try and teach you this year. This is where it all comes together."
The end of his speech was greeted with silence as his impassioned words sunk in. After a moment, someone raised their hand.
"Well, excuse me," he began "Mr. American, I'm-barely-older-than-you- but-know-way-more-than-you-do, what reason do you have to teach this class? What experience do you have?"
"Questioning my credibility, that's understandable, Mr..." the Professor said with a smile.
"Malfoy. Draco Malfoy." Ross smiled again, his eyes flicking over the classroom a moment.
"Mr. Malfoy, your reputation precedes you. I'm sure we'll get on just nicely," not many detected the slight sarcasm in his voice, but those who did couldn't hide a smirk. "Well, I'll give you the abridged version of my life. I'm 25 as of two months ago and lived most of my life in New York City. My mother was a witch and my father a Muggle. A detective, actually; NYPD. That's a group of Muggle law enforcers," he explained to the confused faces, "I had a pretty ordinary life. Stared at a Muggle school when I was six and magic school at the same time. It met after the Muggle school let out, and that's the way it's done in America. There's very few purely magical schools like Hogwarts there, and they're usually only four years, like Muggle high school. Anyway, after I graduated, that's the important part. I wanted to be like my father; a detective, but I also wanted to use magic in my work and get rid of the dark wizards that were still about, so I became a Presule. That's sort of the American version of Aurors, except we don't have half the reputation. I was in training for two years, and service for three before I decided I wanted to pursue a different life. I moved back to NYC and lived there until two weeks ago when I came here for this job. That about covers it." A few murmurs passed through the class as he finished and one hand shot into the air like it had been waiting a month for this chance. "Yes, Miss Granger?"
"What were you doing the, what, two years before you came here?" she asked with a spite never seen in her before. Professor Ross smiled at her, crossing his arms.
"That's rather irrelevant. Maybe I'll tell someday, but I really doubt that," he said with finality. "Now, who here has ever been in a situation where they had to use defensive magic?"
The rest of the class was spent with the professor enthusiastically critiquing their past experiences. He was able to get the rest of the class to join him in the situation and point out errors and clever ideas. They were all enjoying themselves and at the end of the class a group of people went to the desk to talk to their new teacher. Ron and Harry found themselves in the line, too, with a stone faced Hermione. They wisely did not ask questions at this point. When the line dwindled down and she stood in front of the desk, they saw a side of her they had not truly seen before. She placed her hands firmly on his desk and looked their teacher in the eye.
"Professor, I would like to talk to you about your class," she spat. He nodded candidly. "I have a few complaints to make." His eyebrows raised and he smiled at her. Ron wondered for a moment how her could smile at her scowl, but when he looked back, her face had softened a bit.
"Come by my office anytime. I'd love to talk to you," he smiled again.
"Right. Well. I'll do that. Yes. Then. I'll see you." she said almost weakly before rushing out of the classroom, leaving Harry and Ron shrugging in her wake.
-----
The mood in the Gryffindor common room that evening was very subdued. Many people were studying or completing homework and those who weren't were relaxing after an eventful first day of classes. A familiar trio was found in front of the fire, completing a Charms essay in comfortable silence. It was about ten o'clock when the silence was broken by Hermione.
"I just thought I should tell you two that you'll have to keep up with your own homework this year," she explained, rolling up two completed feet of parchment. Ron looked up at her.
"What, are you not going to help us anymore?" he asked nervously. Hermione chuckled as she stood.
"No, I'm just not going to nag you about it anymore. I'm done with the bossy annoying know-it-all thing. It's totally over," she announced, putting her book bag in its usual corner as Ron stared holes into her back.
"Who are you and what have you done with my friend?" he joked. Hermione walked back over to their chairs.
"I won't let you fail, but I'm not going to be annoying anymore," she said, knocking Ron on the head as she passed. "Now, I have to go do some things. Oh! And Ron, don't forget, you have-"
"Patrolling duties, I know," he said "I have to make sure there are no miscreants out of bed trying to prove that their teacher is trying to kill them or destroy the world and make sure that there and no dark wizards running about trying to kill any little miscreants who are out of bed. I remember, Hermione. I mean, did you think I was going to forget? Do you have no faith in me at all? That is hurtful. I can't believe you could think so little of me! And don't walk away, I'm still talking!" But she was out of the portrait hole with a backwards wave. He smiled at her back, chuckling a bit before he turned back to the table. Harry and Ginny sat there wearing twin smirks. "What is with the two of you?"
"Nothing, nothing dear brother!" Ginny sang, rolling her eyes.
"You know, we should start a bet," Harry said and she grinned at him.
"I like the way you think!" she agreed. Ron scowled.
"I hate you both."
Another easy silence fell over the group as they turned to their studies. Ron let his mind wander from his essay, as it tended to do and he thought about the encounter with Malfoy. So he had acted a little strange. Big deal. There was only one thing that bothered him about the exchange. One thing he said that really stung. "No, she's the one they'd sell to a whorehouse! She's already a whore, why not make some money off your hobby, right?" Ron looked at his sister out of the corner of his eye, seeing what he had ignored for two years. She was different. Her hair was curled perfectly in a disheveled way around her head and her makeup was pristine; smoky eyes and red lips. Her skirt was not the uniform length, but fell mysteriously above her knee. And this new look wasn't the half of it. The hardest thing to ignore had been the rumors. Older boyfriends, secret flings, students were telling hero stories about some hot redhead that couldn't be his sister. Ron still didn't know if he could believe it. He chose to have faith in his sister. If she told him she had been sleeping around herself, then he'd believe it. Not a moment before. A glance at his watch showed him that it was already ten thirty and he had to go and patrol now. Looking down at his half finished essay, Ron stood up despairingly.
"I'll see you all later," he said before gather his things and walking out the portrait hole.
-----
In ten minutes, Ron was already bored with this whole patrolling deal. There was nothing to catch. He knew that. Everyone was too tired from their first day to create mischief. Most people were probably already in bed. That's where he wanted to be. Bed. Not walking around some old castle in the dark, getting lost.
Wait, he wasn't lost. He could be lost. He had been at this school for six years already, he didn't get lost still! However, as he looked around, he realized that he did not recognize his surroundings. This was not good. This was not making his night any better. He tried to find something he recognized, but to no avail. After ten minutes of this, Ron was fed up.
"Bloody hell!!" he shouted, his voice echoing off the walls. Echoing a little too long. It took him a moment to realize he was hearing a conversation. He crept closer to the voices, leaning against a wall. Finally, he was able to make out what was being said.
"Alright! Okay. If this is what you want then you can have it. We'll just pretend we never happened. If that's what you want."
"Good. I'm glad you finally-"
"But, you see, I don't really think it's what you want. You think it's what you should do, so you think it's what you want. But I know that deep down, you want to be with me just as much as I want to be with you. "
"I--I-I mean- I"
"You can't lie to me and you know that. Look me in the eye and tell me you don't want to be with me."
After that there was silence. Ron suddenly wanted very much to be back in his dormitory, in his bed, sleeping right now. Luckily, he noticed an old suit of armor, telling him that he was close to Gryffindor tower. He set off almost running.
It had been a man talking first. He knew that much for sure. And the other one had been a girl. Other then that, he couldn't tell. He didn't even really know if they said what he thought they had.
He had been an older man. Well, older than her, at least, by the sounds of their voices. And it was wrong for them to be together. He was older.. A professor. And she was a student.
He stopped in his tracks a foot in front of the Fat Lady. A teacher and a student were having an affair.
This goes way above the duties of head boy he thought as he said the password and headed up to his safe bed.
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Wooooooooooooooo! Chapter three! Yaaay! I hate computers and the internet and writers block and a number of other things that caused the latness of this chapter. I am very sorry, and I hope it is satisfactory. I have nothing to do tomorrow, so hopefully I will be writing more. Until 9 o'clock. Most to blame for the lateness: I Love the 90s. Because I do! Well, folks, review and love!
Rock!