Author's Notes: I do believe FFDDD has officially been conquered. =) That's all I have to say.
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CHAPTER FIVE – MEETING THE ASSOCIATES
"Bloody hell," Ron said, staring at Hermione with widening eyes. Either he was shocked by her difference in appearance or shocked that she was indeed still living, she was disgusted each way.
Six years had only changed Hermione's former friends slightly. Ron's mouth still hung open in his I-have-no-clue-what's-going-on way that Hermione had grown accustomed to while his fiery red hair and prominent freckles still gave him his signature look. Harry, on the other hand, looked more like his father than ever (even though Hermione had only seen pictures of the man on a few occasions) with his mother's emerald green eyes sparkling behind his black-rimmed glasses. For a moment, Hermione felt like a child again at Hogwarts, gaping back at the two people she had shared half her life with, until the detestable memories and feelings caught up with her.
"They're my associates?" Hermione asked McGonagall incredulously, who was standing awkwardly off to the side. McGonagall opened her mouth several times and raised her eyebrows, but then gave up and just nodded her head. "Great," she muttered, unable to believe that of all the people in the world who could have been her mysterious 'associates', these two idiots were the ones chosen.
"What are you doing here?" Ron asked again. He glanced at Harry for help, but Harry just glared at Hermione with a vengeful hatred in his eyes.
Many years later and still able to snap back at Ron, Hermione answered curtly, "I'm solving a very important mission for the Ministry of Magic, since I'm one of their top spies, of course. And naturally, I'm not going to let anyone get in my way."
Ron stared at her like she was a cockroach with twenty legs before he responded. "What do you mean, you're solving this mission? Harry and I were told to come back to help the Ministry, and then you show up? We aren't working with anyone else, and least of all you!"
"Just because there's been a mix-up and you're back in my life for one day doesn't mean you have the right to control me again," Hermione shot back, her voice rising and heat coming to her face. It was just like their schooldays again, she thought, when she and Ron would get into a blazing row over something incredibly stupid every ten minutes. Only this time, she would not let him win her over.
"I honestly can't believe the Ministry hired you to do their work," Ron spat, changing tactics. Hermione merely scoffed at hearing such a thick remark. It was clear he was out of invectives.
"What were they thinking when they hired you? You both are the most incapable, irresponsible, immature, unorganized, brainless prats I've ever –"
"ENOUGH!"
Ron and Hermione's quarrel was put to an end by McGonagall's loud bark. She eyed the two of them carefully, her sharp frown never ceasing to impress them. "Need I remind the two of you that you are no longer stuck in the days of your childhood squabbles?" she said. "You are both fully grown adults and should handle this situation, whatever it is, sensibly."
They both cast their eyes down toward the floor to avoid one another's gaze. Hermione's face was burning with loathing and embarrassment. She couldn't loose the composure she had built up over the years to Ron in just one minute. And, most importantly, she couldn't let him think she was vulnerable.
"Professor," said a stiff voice that had been silent throughout the small argument. "I believe I speak on behalf of both Ron and me when I say we absolutely refuse to work with her."
Hermione had never seen Harry's eyes blazing with so much anger before, except for when he was facing off to Malfoy. It hurt her inside to see such a close former friend hate her so much now. But then she thought of why he was so angry with her, and why she was so angry with him, and her sentimental feelings were forgotten.
"Excuse me?" McGonagall asked, still slightly flabbergasted. "I don't believe I asked whether or not you wanted to work with Miss Granger, Potter. And while I am obviously unaware of the conflict you three are facing, I expect you to realize that it will not come in the way of your duty. You are here for one purpose solely. I ask you keep that in mind."
The three nodded their heads slowly, Harry the most reluctant, all studying the shiny floor quite intensely. Hermione had wished she never came; she didn't want to return to Hogwarts in the first place, but now that the two people who had caused so much pain and suffering in her life would be working along with her, all she really wanted to do was run back to her safe, peaceful home, and dive under her bed.
"Hermione," McGonagall said abruptly, startling Hermione slightly. "You will be rooming in your own private dormitory, located up the stairs and to the right in the staff room, seeing as you will be working on the staff this year." Hermione could've sworn Ron rolled his eyes, but McGonagall continued. "Potter and Weasley, we've made up a dormitory for the two of you to share five doors down. I trust you are all competent enough to not get lost? Good. Tomorrow, you may come down to breakfast, and after, we will have a conference in my office about your duties here this year. Hermione, it is expected that you will begin your teaching Wednesday."
Hermione nodded professionally, trying not to notice Ron still rolling his eyes around his head. She secretly wished his eyeballs would fall out. She also yearned to ask McGonagall what Harry and Ron would be doing, exactly, if they weren't teaching (and good thing, too – honestly, those two being professors? What would the world be coming to?), but the last thing she wanted to do was let on that she was concerned about them in the least; which she wasn't, of course.
"Now, if you'll follow me, I'll escort you to the staff room, so you will be familiar with the way. The rest of the day is your's to do whatever you please."
Pushing past Harry and Ron to follow behind McGonagall, Hermione was quite relieved that she wouldn't be forced to spend the rest of the day in the company of the two people she could barely stand to be in the same room with.
Harry and Ron trailed a good ten feet behind Hermione and McGonagall, whispering secretly (Hermione could only guess what about). She hardly payed attention to the route they were taking, but she was sure she could manage to find the staff room again; instead, Hermione was lost in thought about the morning's revelations thus far.
So she was back at Hogwarts – which wasn't so terribly awful. But she was back with Harry and Ron. And the last time she had been at the school with them, they got into a fight and vowed to never talk to one another again. As much as Hermione wouldn't admit it, she really lost a piece of herself the day her friends walked away.
The only thing she didn't understand was why Harry and Ron were such good buddies again. If she recalled correctly, Harry was as angry with Ron as he was with her for not supporting him during the infamous fight against Voldemort. Thinking about the situation only intensified her irritation – of course Harry and Ron would make up and plot against her together. Had she not learned anything over the years? Boys would be boys – immature little prats with no loyalty.
Hermione had tried so hard the past six years to cleanse her mind of her old, painful memories; not speaking to her ex-best friends helped greatly. She had forgotten everything, good memories and bad, significant memories and meaningless ones. She forgot the fights with Ron, the visits to Hogsmeade, the adventures, the encounters with Voldemort, the talks with Ginny, the chess games she played (and lost). But now everything came back – it was like history was repeating itself.
Glancing behind her, she saw Ron and Harry deep in conversation, Ron shooting her furtive glares every now and then. Hermione turned around and held her head high, trying to not let it bother her. She also realized that the four of them had arrived in front of a large oak door, which obviously led into the staff room.
She followed McGonagall over the threshold into a professor-empty circular room. It had been reupholstered since Hermione last saw it; comfortable looking couches were arranged throughout the hospitable room and a fire was burning in the grate. In the corner stood a table of snacks and a machine that evidently served both coffee and butterbeer. Hermione found her eyes trailing over to Ron once more; he was looking at the snacks table with a hungry passion. She scoffed aloud, causing him to glare at her, but she only raised her eyebrows before following McGonagall up a spiraling staircase that led to the dorms.
The long, narrow hallway was made of stone, and the wooden floorboards beneath Hermione creaked when she stepped across them. Innumerable doors lined the walls, each leading to a different dorm. McGonagall pointed Hermione towards hers and the boys towards theirs; they all departed, Hermione thanking McGonagall for her time, without so much as a word to each other.
Hermione pushed open the door to her room, finding the sight quite breathtaking. Her dorm did not resemble her old student one in the least; this room was very warm and inviting, with a magnificent dark cherry oak dresser against one wall and a gigantic canopied four-poster against another. She was pleased to see that her luggage had already been brought up and laid neatly on top of her bed. A bookcase stood near the window, and upon further investigation, Hermione found many of the titles referred to Transfiguration – the class she would be teaching. Looking out the window, she saw she had a beautiful view of the lake and part of the forest, and far away in the distance was Hagrid's hut. Hermione sighed and crawled up onto the window pane like she used to do in the middle of the night when she couldn't sleep; smoke emitted from the tiny cabin, and she had a crazy urge to run down there now and spill everything out to her long-time friend. She knew Hagrid had returned this year to teach Care of Magical Creatures for one last time before completely devoting his life's work to the Order. She wasn't sure what a difference it made with him being in the same school as her, but it did give Hermione and odd feeling of protection knowing Hagrid would be there, no matter what.
After gazing awestruck at the books organized efficiently on the shelf and fixing her hair slightly, she ventured out into the hallway, wondering how she should spend the rest of her afternoon. She wasn't sure what parts of the school were open to her and which ones weren't; of course, that never stopped her from exploring whatever she liked in her schooldays.
Hermione walked down the hall and began to descend down the stone steps, but stopped suddenly when she heard a door open, allowing voices to drift down to where she stood, concealed. She knew she could keep walking, because the voices speaking were ones that could only hurt her, but something told her to stop and listen.
"… think they're doing, setting us up like that," Ron was practically yelling at Harry. He seemed heated about something, and Hermione was quite sure she knew what about.
"It's not their fault, Ron," Harry replied, seemingly calmer than his livid friend. "They didn't know that we – weren't on speaking terms. Logically, they would set us to work together. After all, we're a famous duo, and she's a respected spy for the WIA. I heard she won Most Valuable Witch three years in a row."
"Doesn't surprise me," Ron muttered. Hermione had a notion to walk up the stairs and sock him in the face, but it passed quickly.
"We can't let her get in the way, okay? It's been six years, but you know what she'll do – try to boss us into doing what she thinks is best. She'll screw everything up, like always."
"They never did tell us what exactly we're supposed to be doing," Ron mused, his rage leaving him for a moment. "We're not teaching classes, like she is – God help her poor students – so why are we here?"
"Something's wrong with the kids," Harry said, frowning. "They're been acting funny, and McGonagall's letter said it didn't seem like they were just pulling pranks."
"So what," said an indifferent Ron. "Maybe the house-elves are spiking their drinks. That's not our problem."
"Come on, Ron. This could be serious. I heard that last week, a student tried to suffocate Filch's cat with a pillowcase – doesn't surprise me, I wanted to do that loads of times. And this is a big case. We're not going to let her solve it before we do, right?"
Hermione was growing irked. She hated the way they constantly referred to her as she and her – she did have a name. It was like their lips were too sacred to be graced with the filth of her name. Perhaps if she just popped into their room for a moment, their lips would then be too swollen to even say her name…
There was a silence for several minutes in which Hermione debated on leaving or not. It sounded like Harry and Ron were unpacking; loud thuds kept shaking the floorboards and someone was rummaging through a suitcase.
"Harry? Can I ask you something?" Ron said timidly. The moving about had stopped; obviously, whatever someone had been searching for, they had found.
"Yeah, sure."
Hermione could sense Ron hesitating a moment before he asked, "Remember this picture? It was taken only a week before…" He broke off, and there was a short silence, but he continued quickly. "We were at Mum's birthday party on our Easter weekend visit back to my house. I don't know how it got into my box, I didn't mean to pack it –"
"I remember," Harry said quietly.
Ron paused again. "Do you think she looks any different now?"
Hermione knew straight away they were talking about her. To hear them speaking about her in a manner that lacked anger and hatred was odd; she tensed up as Harry spoke again.
"Yeah. She does. Of course she does, Ron. It's been six years."
"Her hair's different," Ron went on, ignoring Harry. "She straightened it now, did you notice? And she's done something with her face – I think she's using that mud Ginny uses, make-up, or whatever it's called. And her –"
"Ron, stop," Harry said sharply. "Don't do that."
"Sorry," Ron muttered. A shattering followed his words, and Hermione knew he had destroyed the picture. She rapidly blinked away tears and shifted her weight, only to accidentally trip and bump her arm against the hard wall. It echoed up into the hallway, and Hermione cursed under her breath, knowing they would have heard it.
"What was that?" Ron asked.
"Dunno. Let's go back downstairs."
Rubbing her elbow, Hermione sprinted down the stairs and racked her brain for something to do that wouldn't look totally suspicious. She darted over to the coffee machine and poured a cup, then threw out a chair and plopped down just in time, still breathing heavily. Harry and Ron skeptically entered the room, making sure to give her cold, hard glares. Hermione returned the favor while drowning the disgusting cup of coffee; she forgot to add creamer.
"She drinks coffee. That explains a lot," Ron muttered under his breath to Harry, who nodded, as they passed and exited the room. Once the door closed, Hermione abruptly spit out the tasteless drink and dropped the cup on the table. She waited a full twenty seconds before leaving the room as well, following the direction their voices were headed in. They disappeared into the kitchens, which didn't surprise Hermione, but she kept on walking until she reached a railing that overlooked the Entrance Hall. The students were flooding back from Hogsmeade, their cloaks cradling the mounds of sweets they had managed to carry back. Many went into the Great Hall for dinner while some departed up the stairs to their common rooms, most likely full of candy and not hungry for dinner.
Hermione sighed, resting her head on the rather uncomfortable railing. She was sure of one thing: it was going to be a long and trying year at Hogwarts.