One:
Hermione Granger crossed the bumper-to-bumper traffic into a high built office. Her Starbuck's espresso in hand, and her file under her arm, she pulled open the heavy glass doors and entered her world. The world of the New York Times. She waved and flashed a smile at Charlie, the "guy at the desk" as he beeped in to Mr. Crawford, her boss, to tell him she had arrived. Charlie nodded to her and she entered the office.
Hermione glanced around as she took a seat in front of Bob Crawford. Nothing had changed since her last visit, at least not anything of importance. There was a new picture of Robert Jr., a snobby, pimply faced fifteen-year-old who thought he was Merlin's gift to women. Or one woman in particular. He had the world's biggest crush on his father's best reporter, Hermione Granger.
The office was warmly lit, and fake wooden paneling adorned the walls…supposedly giving it a "homey" feel. Hermione stifled a laugh; there was nothing "homey" about it. Bob Crawford was one of the shrewdest wizards in America. That's right, the Times is a wizard-run paper. Hermione's main job was covering stories having to do with magical happenings, and hiding the truth from muggles. Hermione adjusted her leather jacket and settled into her seat impatiently.
"New assignment, Bob?" Hermione asked, propping her boots up on his desk.
"In your hometown. Well, home country, but what have you and all that jazz."
"Home country?" Hermione asked, her feet dropping to the floor with a thud.
"A certain…. Position has become available. Apparently you've very politely refused it." Bob said in his rough Brooklyn accent, raising an eyebrow at her.
"Look, Bob. I'm a reporter. That's my job." Hermione said firmly.
"Look, 'Mione, I can't just refuse the man. He's the man. So, you're fired, and I'll be sure to send an excellent recommendation to…" Bob put on his reading glasses and glanced at a paper on his ever-cluttered desk. "Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Apparently they're in need of a Potions Mistress."
"Bob, go hump a park bench!" Hermione yelled furiously.
The petite brunette hopped out of her chair and stalked from the room. She turned to glare at Bob once more when she reached the door.
"Yes, well…I hear Central Park is lovely this time of year!" Bob yelled back, but it was no use. She'd already slammed the door on the Times.
~*~
Hermione shrugged out of her jacket and pulled open the large double doors. She thought she'd never see this place again. More like he hoped she'd never see this place again. It held too many memories, most good, but some terrible. She groaned inwardly as a tall figure approached, every step issued with determined annoyance. That man, Hermione thought, always acts as if he has to be somewhere.
She summoned up a fake smile and plastered it on her face, hoping to get the encounter over with as soon as possible. He nodded politely to her and gestured for her to follow as he stalked through the halls purposefully, glaring at innocent students as he went. Hermione stifled a sigh, he no longer wore his black billowing robes, or "bat wings" as Ron had affectionately dubbed them. Ron. Best not go there.
Instead, Severus Snape wore a smart black suit. It made him look slightly more human, though she imagined the first years would laugh in her face if she told them that. It also defined his…less than unfortunate-looking body, which Hermione noted was lean but well built. I am not checking out my Potions Professor! Hermione hissed mentally. I am merely assessing his assets…and what an ass-et it is…
Hermione's head cocked to the side and she stopped momentarily. Snape froze mid-step. he must have heard her footsteps die away. Severus turned to look at her, eyebrow raised questioningly and Hermione snapped her head back up and flashed him an innocent smile. He merely nodded and continued on his way, Hermione quickly followed and vowed to never look at Severus Snape in that way again. Of course, it would be much easier if he'd go back to the form-hiding black robes.