Disclaimer: We do not own any of these characters, places, or otherwise book-related content courtesy of the wonderful J.K.Rowling. All story ideas, however, come from the crazy minds of Miss Maria and PirateMaiden.

Chapter 2 : Return to Hogwarts

As she stepped out of the carriage, Hermione paused a moment. She stared at the towers, taking in every inch of the castle as though seeing it for the first time. She sighed as she climbed the stairs and entered through the front doors. She knew the memories would return, but that did not mean she had prepared herself for them.

Dismissing the nostalgia, Hermione grabbed her suitcase and shoulder bag and headed to her room. Since she was working with McGonagall, her quarters were in the separate teacher's area of Gryffindor; the one where the Head of House slept. It was odd being back at Hogwarts, especially since Harry and Ron were not nearby. Hermione stopped as she reached the moving staircases; her brain racing to remember the way.

"Lost?" A voice said from behind.

"No, no." Hermione replied distantly, lost in her thoughts. She waved a stray hair from her face, the rest pulled back into a ponytail.

"Granger?" The voice sounded startled.

Hermione turned, and saw none other than Draco Malfoy staring back at her. His black cloak offered a clear sign of whose footsteps he followed, but he was different. She noticed his hair not quite as slick, his eyes not quite as piercing. She laughed, her wish for familiar faces had granted her a former enemy.

"Malfoy? Whatever are you doing here?" Hermione asked, turning back to the ever-changing staircases.

"I work here. You are looking at the new Potions Master, thank you very much." He grinned stupidly, playfully, proudly.

"I should have guessed. Your robes suit the job." She laughed, a natural conversation flowing between the two.

"What? These old things? No way, Granger. I was working on some examples for classes next week and was not in mind to damage my suits." He looked a bit annoyed, but softened at her confused expression. Changing the subject, "what's your excuse?"

Hermione flustered. "Excuse?"

"Well, I applied for the job here, but I didn't realize there was another opening. What brought you back?"

"Oh," she begged for her facial expression not to show the relief that washed through her, "I'm working on the final stage of Auror training, and McGonagall agreed to help me. I'm staying with her in Gryffindor for the next year."

"Ah, I see. Dumbledore didn't mention that, but then again, he doesn't mention much these days." Draco faltered and a faint blush crept into his neck.

"Oh?" Worry took Hermione with a death grip.

"Ever since Voldemort and Harry . . . Look, I really shouldn't be discussing this. Not here," he gestured to the empty hallway, "not now." As this was said, Professor Dumbledore himself walked around the corner. Arms open wide, discussing something of trivial value with Professor Sinistra with the utmost enthusiasm – as was his way. Hermione looked from the aging wizard to Draco, the timing too near perfect for her intuitions to go array. Had Malfoy developed a Time-True sense? He was only twenty-five, for goodness sake! Dumbledore possessed this skill, but few others, and Dumbledore was . . . well, Dumbledore was old.

"Ah!" he cried upon seeing the two at the bottom of the staircase. "Two of our more younger and lively employees. Surely you remember these two Professor Sinistra?" She nodded, and he went on. "Although, seeing them get along well is quite a surprise. No harsh feelings of the past keeping you two up at night?"

Hermione and Draco were caught off guard. Neither one had actually remembered the last fight they had had in seventh year; they had simply allowed conversation to start in a respectful grown up manner. At least, that's what they convinced themselves. Dumbledore glanced at them over the tops of his spectacles and cried, "To the feast then. You three can find your seats on your own, I shall be there in a moment. And, oh, Hermione," he asked of her retreating figure as she turned back to meet him, "up the stairs, third door on the right."