Author's note: I want to thank you all for your continuing patience with this one. I won't bore you with a lot of details about the list of issues that have prevented me from updating this fic (computer problems, health issues, and the fact that I now work two jobs to name a few) , all I will say is that I'm sorry and I hope you all enjoy this chapter.

A quick note: After realising how disgustingly stupid it was of me to not remember that Vector was a witch (as mentioned by Ron in…one of the books!), I have slightly amended chapter two. You don't need to reread it, it's merely a few sentences to inform you that Vector's wife was Hermione's original teacher, but she left to take a research post with the Ministry's Arithmancy department and her husband took her place at Hogwarts.

I have also amended Ginny's name to Ginevra, despite having initially wanted to keep it as Virginia. It's such a small thing and I've only used it a few times before this anyway, so making it canon really wasn't an issue.

Speaking of canon, please remember that this is only canon until the end of Order of the Phoenix. After that it's a whole new 'verse!

Once again, this is a Hermione dominant chapter, because I just couldn't get her to stop talking! ;)

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Part Five: The Threads of Mind and Magic

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In her relatively short life, Hermione Granger had found herself in many situations where she had wanted nothing more than for the ground to open up and swallow her whole. In fact, through her acquaintance with Harry and (more specifically) Ron, she had often had moments where she had wanted the ground to open up and swallow someone else. The moment she found herself under the scrutiny and, indeed judgement, of the entire school, she suddenly realised that not one of those prior situations had ever felt quite like that.

Her stomach contorted in knots as the murmur of discontent swept across the hall, mainly through the older students, of course, but that realisation didn't make her feel any less nervous. There was nothing she could do, although handing in her resignation and fleeing was sounding like quite a nice idea, even though she had nowhere to run to. She was essentially trapped at the head table, Snape then Seriya on one side and only Minerva's empty chair between her and Dumbledore; she didn't fancy her odds of making it to the door. Not that Snape was likely to stop her, but the others might have a few choice words to say.

It was an odd sensation, to feel as if one was drowning in nothing but air. It seemed to close in on you and choke you. Oh, intellectually she realised she was nearing the stages of a panic attack, but the analytical part of her was being overruled by the part that wanted to run away screaming, 'I want my mummy'. However, that part merely reminded her why she was here; her parents were gone and, even if she wanted to, she could run to neither of them.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione, feeling the need to see a friendly face, searched the Gryffindor table for any sign of Harry and was pleasantly surprised to find him seated next to Neville and opposite Ginny at the nearest end of the table to her. Due to this, the space usually reserved for the new first years began not at the top of the table (as was custom), but next to Harry and didn't end until it reached the second years.

Seeing Harry so close and so willing to support her in every way made her wish, yet again, that she was in love with him. He would never let her down, no matter what, and he was always there to support her, even if he didn't, or couldn't, understand why she had chosen to do it. Harry was one of the best parts of her, so much so that she wasn't sure she ever wanted to share him, but one day he would fall in love and, she hoped, so would she. She didn't like to think where that would leave the two of them; she only hoped it wouldn't lead to the same thing that had happened with Ron.

She glanced further down the Gryffindor table and it really wasn't hard to spot her red haired friend. He was sitting with Dean and Seamus, who were clearly barraging him with questions and, given the sour look on his face, it wasn't hard to guess what the questions were about.

He really hates me.

It wasn't a pleasant thought, in fact it made her heart ache, but it was the truth. Harry seemed to think that he'd forgive her – eventually – but they both knew how stubborn Ron could be. The fact that Harry and Ginny were openly supporting her couldn't have made it any easier for him.

He's being unreasonable, she thought decidedly.

Or was he? It wasn't as if Hermione had been open with any of them, in fact she had outright lied to them for the last two years (or was it three? She was never really sure about time anymore). She knew she had hurt Ron when she had told him that it was best if they just remained friends and deep down she knew he must also have realised that, but her rejection had hurt all the same. She, Harry, and Ron had been friends for so long and she had never really resented that she was the second choice to them both. Hermione understood that sometimes boys just needed to be around boys. She had known they both valued her as a friend and that was something she had so rarely had in her life.

Hermione Granger had always been the bookworm, the swot, even before she attended Hogwarts. The fact that she had lived in a border town that was entirely too small hadn't really helped her make friends. In fact, Hermione could only really name one person in her time before Hogwarts that had always remained a friend, but Beth couldn't follow her to school and the little time they got to spend together during the holidays just wasn't the same. Beth was still a close friend, but they saw each other so rarely. As for Ron, well, she only hoped that he would come around; she valued her friendships because she had so few that were true and the thought of losing someone who had been such a close friend for so long didn't bear thinking about.

She knew that their failed romance had changed things, perhaps irrevocably, but she got the feeling that there was more to it than that. After losing her parents, she hadn't known where to turn to or how to cope. Sometimes she wanted to be left alone and other times she craved company so much it was almost a physical need. Harry had understood that without her having to say anything, Ron hadn't been able to. She had always felt closer to Harry on some level, perhaps due to the awkwardness she had always felt around Ron due to the slight tension that had always been there. She would never deny that, at one time in her teenage life, she had wanted to date Ron, but that fact had made it harder to get as close to him as she could with Harry. Since losing her parents, she and Harry had become almost inseparable (unless flying was involved; then he was on his own) and Ron had been out of the loop in the way that Hermione once had. The only difference was that Ron didn't know how to handle it.

Bringing herself back to her immediate surroundings, Hermione glanced further up the table, unable to stand being so blatantly ignored by Ron any longer. Her gaze fell on Harry once more. He caught her eye and winked at her, mouthing, "Good luck, Professor," and suddenly she felt much better. She took a deep breath to steady herself and allowed a moment to regroup.

You can do this, Hermione Jane Granger, she told herself firmly. You're ready for this.

As if the thought had reminded her of an innate self-confidence she had never known she had possessed, she sat up straighter and began to look around the hall in a more confident manner. This time, she refused to back down. This time, she wouldn't look away when someone challenged her gaze.

It took her a moment to feel the magic thrumming around her, but she soon realised that the active concentration she was exerting was causing a change in the world before her eyes. For the first time, however, she was conscious of the change and the fact that she was in control of it.

The world slowly spilled into vibrant colour, almost like the strange blobs she often got in her vision when she'd suddenly had bright light flashed in front of her eyes, only these colours weren't floating, they were surrounding people; they weren't coming from a light source, but life force itself. Every pupil and teacher in the school was surrounded by a light of varying colours, shapes, and vibrancies, all woven through with the gold and silver threads of magic. She wasn't sure how she knew that those threads were the magic any more than she was sure how she knew the way to read the emotions she was seeing within the auras…she just knew. She felt as if some long dormant part of her was coming to life, as if there was something inside her that had flicked on like a light switch – one she was finally gaining some control over. She wanted to study the intricate patterns before her, analyse them and learn what it was that made them the way they were, but more than that she wanted to walk through it, experience it in a way only she could.

Her eyes lingered over the colours but briefly, being drawn to the most dominant light sources; those that were so bright she couldn't see who was generating them, light so vibrant she could barely look at them without getting dizzy. She knew who some were, simply from having observed the room before her new senses took over: Dumbledore, Harry, Snape, and (surprisingly) Ginny. However, there were another four that she could not identify: one teacher, two Slytherins, and a Ravenclaw. Wanting to identify them, she focussed and tried to return her vision to normal, but she couldn't. She took a deep breath and tried again, but it wasn't until Seriya's hand (she had reached across a rather irritated looking Snape) was placed on her arm that her vision jolted into normality.

Hermione hissed and closed her eyes as sharp pains pierced through her head and eyes. She kept her eyes closed for a few minutes and took a deep breath before opening them. She smiled reassuringly at Seriya and at Harry, who must have been watching her, only to realise that, not only had she missed most of the Sorting, she had no idea who those four people were. Her curiosity was such that she was tempted to try again, but her head had other ideas; she was going to have one hell of a migraine for the rest of the evening.

She watched the rest of the Sorting, trying to remember at least some of the names and faces of the new first years, but she had a feeling she was doing a miserable job. She scanned the room again to find that, although most of the younger years were no longer staring at her, the sixth and seventh years were still regarding her curiously, or, in the case of the Slytherins, with intense hostility.

After what seemed like an age, the final student was Sorted into Ravenclaw and Dumbledore began his beginning of year speech. Hermione wanted to listen to it, she really did, however the butterflies that had taken residence in her stomach once again were a more pressing concern. The moment was arriving. Whilst it was unlikely her position at the head table would be difficult to figure out, she knew that the students were waiting to hear that she had been made a teacher before reacting with more than looks.

They're going to eat me alive, she thought in a sudden moment of panic. What the hell were you thinking, Hermione Granger? That they would listen to you? Learn? You would have been better off just feeding yourself to the nearest hippogriff; it would have been more humane.

"Calm down, Hermione," Minerva said softly. The older woman had taken the empty seat to Hermione's right without her even noticing. "You'd think you were going to your execution."

"I think I am."

Seriya chuckled and winked at her. "You'll be fine."

Hermione didn't think it was quite polite to laugh in her former Professor's face, so she simply nodded and tried to focus on Dumbledore instead.

"- in Mr. Filch's office," the Headmaster finished, his gaze lingering on the Gryffindor table. "Now, as to the appointment of new teachers, I would like to introduce Professor Cleaver, your new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher." There was a smattering of applause as Tera Cleaver looked for all the world as if she was about to faint and Hermione couldn't blame her; she wanted to disappear herself. "And I believe you all know our final teacher. Professor Granger will be taking the appointment of Arithmancy Professor."

There was a moment of silence before Harry started to clap. Before she could so much as blink, there was a raucous applause from the Gryffindor table. Many of the Hufflepuffs were clapping good-naturedly, although they looked rather perplexed. The Ravenclaws appeared to be clapping under duress (they looked particularly angry), and none of the Slytherins were even bothering, instead they appeared to be eyeing her up as if she was about to be served to them on a dinner plate.

Dumbledore invited the school to eat and soon Hermione found that she had a moment to take a deep breath without feeling as if she were under inspection by the entire school. She hadn't thought she was hungry until the smell of gravy surrounded her and suddenly she was famished. She began to modestly fill her plate (if she ate too much there was every chance she wouldn't keep it down, given the summersaults her stomach felt the need to perform whenever she felt someone looking at her) and turned her attention to the conversation around her.

"-told him it was his own fault, he should never have enchanted his underwear like that."

Hermione blinked. "I get the feeling I've tuned in at the wrong moment."

Seriya laughed. "There was no right moment, never is with Minerva, you should know that by now."

"I think I'm supposed to resent that," Minerva said, "but, since it implies that my conversation is never dull, I choose to take it as a compliment."

"You would," Snape muttered, reaching in front of Seriya to help himself to the potatoes.

There was something odd about sitting at the high table and conversing with the teachers as she would with her classmates at the Gryffindor table. She had been eating with the staff since arriving at the castle, but it was different to be at the head table doing so. The simple act of conversing and the mundane task of eating made her teachers so much more, well, like real people. It was an odd realisation.

"-first class?"

"Sorry, what?" Hermione asked, turning to Seriya.

"I asked if you knew what year you had for your first class."

She took a moment to think about the pieces of paper that Snape had brought her the previous evening before she had, well, fainted. She had barely had time to look at them before coming to dinner, but she definitely remembered what her first class was.

"Advanced," she said, trying her best not to sound forlorn.

Minerva chuckled.

"I'm so glad you find my pain amusing, Minerva," Hermione said. "You could at least attempt to sound sorry for me."

"Oh, come on, Hermione, you have to admit it's at least a little funny. Sod's law, really."

"Yes, and it makes perfect sense to me that Sod was a wizard," Hermione retorted.

"Sod was a person?" Seriya asked, perplexed, and Snape looked very much like he wanted to roll his eyes, but was refusing to allow himself the pleasure. "I thought he was Murphy."

"Yes, but with a law like that," Minerva said with a smirk, "someone was bound to affix him with the name 'Sod'."

"Well, I'm currently thinking of something a little stronger than 'sod'," Hermione mumbled, but the two women picked up on it and chuckled.

"Don't worry, Hermione," Seriya said, "at least this way you're getting the worst of it over with right away."

"And it's a small class, isn't it?" Minerva asked.

"Comparatively speaking: four Slytherins, two Gryffindors, five Ravenclaws, and a Hufflepuff."

"No problem, then," Seriya said with a reassuring smile.

"I suppose it would depend on exactly which pupils you will be teaching," Snape added and Hermione wanted to smack the smug smile off his face…or perhaps stare into those eyes of his. She shook her head slightly, refusing to allow herself the indulgence. She wasn't sure she'd ever get used to the way the 'real' Snape looked.

It wasn't that Snape was handsome, quite the contrary really, he was still…odd - almost awkward - looking and he even had visible scars to add to it. But those eyes; brown just wasn't dark enough to describe them. They were almost black, and they certainly had the same effect as a black hole: they sucked you right in and held on until you were a goner. Not that she was.

Glancing at him in her peripheral vision, she took another moment to study him. His nose wasn't all that bad either, but she could see the magical residue on it and she knew that wasn't natural; she supposed his 'fake nose' was more like what it should be. As for his body, well, she wasn't even going to go there. Well, not much. He was still reasonably lanky, even if his shoulders were broad, but he was wiry; finely toned muscle all packed in nice and neat from what little she had observed and, even if she should get the chance, she had decided she wasn't going to observe any more. Besides, the slick layer of grease still coated his hair. She had deduced that it was all still part of his act, or perhaps some kind of repellent against potion spills, or something equally useful for a Potions Master, but that didn't make it any more pleasant.

She wasn't sure why she was so fascinated by him, although intellectually speaking it was fascinating. She was seeing someone she had known for six (seven? eight?) years in a whole new light. He was the same, yet different. She felt the need to study him, to see what it was that had changed, to compare the differences over time and environment in the same way she would have studied a chemical experiment or a potion that was brewing over time. She almost wanted to record her findings, which was, of course, not only ridiculous, but impossible in the given circumstances. She didn't even want to think about what the consequences could be should anyone find such notes.

She shuddered slightly at the thought and took a long drink of her orange juice. She wasn't sure who Albus had bribed to get orange juice at the high table, but anything was better than day after day of pumpkin juice, so she hadn't asked.

Snape reached in front of her to reach one of the serving plates and nudged her arm rather forcefully in the process. She was about to retort when she realised that he was merely trying to capture her attention.

She frowned. "You couldn't just say, 'excuse me, Professor' and start a conversation," she hissed. He merely glared at her. Sighing and rolling her eyes, Hermione put some more mashed potatoes on her plate before turning back to look at him. "Excuse me, Professor," she began, enunciating each word carefully. Snape's glare only intensified. She smiled. "I was wondering if you had given any further thought to the advanced project for the NEWT level students. I realise we haven't had an opportunity to discuss it properly, but I was hoping to bring it up in my class tomorrow morning; give the students some time to start thinking about it."

Snape seemed to think on her idea and she continued to eat, waiting for his reply. Whilst the idea to talk to each other in view of the students was merely a necessity for Snape's assignment for Voldemort, and, subsequently, Dumbledore, Hermione didn't see why they couldn't actually talk about something worth while. Besides, she'd feel utterly ridiculous trying to make small talk with Snape.

Eventually, Snape nodded. "I think it would be an excellent idea," he admitted, grudgingly and Hermione had to stop herself from smiling smugly. It was clear that he was irked not to have suggested the idea himself. She had no doubt he had had the same thought at some point in his life, but whether through circumstance or merely dislike of his colleagues, had never thought to bring it up.

"Wonderful," she said happily. "I'll mention it tomorrow morning then. We'll need to discuss it further, of course," she said, making sure she was loud enough for Seriya and McGonagall to overhear. It was a legitimate reason to be spending time together and Hermione refused to have a potential friendship (whether real or pretend) begin any other way. Voldemort might buy it, but the likes of Lucius and Draco Malfoy would not.

"Of course. However, if it is to become as substantial a project as I think you intend, it would be best to count towards both classes. Those students not taking both classes will have to be inventive in whichever class they are taking."

Hermione smiled, trying to imagine the look on Harry's face when he realised he'd have to do a project in potions and it was all her fault. She was very proud of Harry for getting into NEWT level Potions. Whilst he had used a lot of her notes and spent a lot of time learning from her, the potential for that class was already there. As soon as he understood the basics and the ideas behind them, he was actually quite good at it. Harry, in fact, had more raw talent with potions than she did and it actually annoyed her to have to admit it. Not that she begrudged him anything, it just annoyed her in the same way that Sirius' incredible talents had, because he hadn't had to work for them, they were just there and he took them for granted.

Aside from Arithmancy, which she was inherently good at (thanks to having always been a bit of a maths whiz in Muggle School), she had to study a lot to learn certain subjects. People like Sirius Black and (from what she had heard) James Potter annoyed her because they could just do things without even having to try. They had become Animagi at the age of fourteen when it had taken her three years to work out the incantations and a further three months to perfect the potions, not to mention the next two months of experimenting before she and her friends had actually managed to become Animagi. For Harry it had worked on his first try, for Hermione, George, and Ginny the second, Fred the fifth, and poor Ron had taken seven tries. However, he had been slightly mollified when Hermione had informed him of the magical properties of the number seven.

"-might at least pretend to be listening."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Professor, I was miles away."

"If only," Snape muttered and she laughed. It took him quite by surprise and, judging from the almost silent murmur in the hallway it had taken a few other people by surprise also.

Hermione felt her cheeks colour and tried not to actually look at anyone outside of the head table. Snape had already snapped at her a few times before the Sorting and he looked rather like he was about to again, so she instead addressed herself to Seriya, drawing the woman into a conversation about her favourite person in the world; her husband. It would have amused Hermione had it not actually been rather sickening. Apparently Seriya and her husband, Symeon, had been married for ten years, but they acted more like newlyweds than any couple Hermione had ever seen. According to Minerva they used to be worse.

The rest of dinner passed relatively quickly and it wasn't long before the Prefects were ushering the new first years out of the Great Hall to their common rooms. Harry caught her eye and indicated that he was going to wait for her outside the hall and she nodded, smiling at him. It would be nice to see a friendly face.

She pulled her chair out and stood up, almost bumping into Snape again, which didn't do her intention to not think about his changed form any good at all. She cleared her throat and stepped back, apologising and refusing to blush. He quirked an eyebrow, before stepping aside to allow her to pass.

"If you are free tomorrow, Professor," he said from behind her and she turned. "It might be advisable to discuss our planned project before the students decide they have a free reign of the subject."

Oh, how quickly it became 'our' project, she thought wryly. However, she said, "Of course."

"I believe you also have a free period after lunch."

Hermione nodded and the plans were set. Intending to slip quickly into the hallway now that most of the students had been shepherded away, Hermione failed to notice Minerva until she had been pulled roughly into the small corridor behind the staff table.

"Sorry about that," Minerva said, as Hermione rubbed her arm, looking anything but sorry. "I just wanted to let you know that Albus has informed me of Voldemort's plans regarding you. I'm willing and able to do anything that will help you jump good old Severus'. He hasn't had sex in a very long time. Explains the grumpiness, don't you think?"

Hermione spluttered. "Minerva! Y-you — I—stop it! Ugh!" Hermione shook her head and put her hands over her ears to drown out Minerva's laughter. "Ugh, I'm going to go voluntarily deaf. Hand me over to St. Mungo's immediately."

Minerva frowned as Hermione finally shook her head and straightened up. "I thought you were able to see Severus for who he truly was."

"I doubt anyone will ever see Professor Snape for who he truly is," Hermione said, feeling sadness at the idea that anyone was really that closed off from the world and the people around them. "But, yes, I can see him."

"And he still repulses you?"

Hermione shifted. "He was my Professor," she said after a moment. "It's not even something I'd think about."

Oh really? I seem to recall otherwise.

Hermione really hated the voice in her head, the one that had a disturbing likeness to Harry. Harry was always able to make her admit the truth to herself…actually, Harry really annoyed her sometimes.

Minerva smiled. "Of course not. Now, about this plan. I'll help in any way I can, I always enjoy baiting Severus, but you seem to have things under control with this project for the NEWTs. Just try not to embarrass him too horribly in front of the students," Minerva said seriously. "It's just torture not being able to laugh openly at him without the student body expecting him to try to hex me."

"Try, Minerva?" came a voice behind them and they turned to find Snape standing in the doorway to the Great Hall. "If I recall correctly, and I usually do, I believe I'm always successful."

"Nonsense. I think that wench in Barcelona would beg to differ."

Hermione's shoulders started to shake as she held in her laughter. "Why Professor Snape, it seems I've underestimated you."

"Minerva, my patience with your attitude notwithstanding, if you don't advise the young Professor to hold her tongue, I will-"

"Will what?" Minerva asked, arching an eyebrow. "If you want to try hexing a Hermanté, Severus Snape, you go right ahead. It merely proves that you are more stupid than I had originally thought. Just try to ensure I'm there to observe the fall out. I do love to laugh at your expense."

"I hadn't noticed," Snape said dryly.

"Just ignore the old bat, Hermione," Minerva said, returning her attention to the young Professor.

"I try to, Minerva, but Professor Snape makes it rather difficult." Snape glared at her, but, with Minerva at her side and a tingling power at her disposal, she felt rather brave.

"Oh, for goodness sakes, call him 'Severus'."

"She has," Snape sneered. "Repeatedly."

"Good for you. Now, as I was informing Hermione, Albus has asked me to help you both accommodate You-Know-Who however I can. I'm sure you have no doubts as to what You-Know-Who intends."

To Hermione, however, that interpretation hadn't occurred. She hoped her eyes weren't as wide as they felt, because it was stupid that she hadn't guessed Voldemort had intended for Snape to seduce her. Being seduced by Snape…that sounded wrong.

Do I want to be seduced by Snape?

The thought was an odd one that she didn't choose to ponder on too long.

"Well, it'll have to be a gradual thing," Hermione started, slowly. "Professor Snape – Severus," she amended at Minerva's look, "was my teacher for so long that it would just be…well, wrong."

"Stranger things have happened," Minerva said with a smile.

"I believe the Dark Lord intended it to happen quickly."

"You can't honestly believe that Voldemort expects you to play things as if you've been lusting after me since I was eleven. Frankly, I'd find that as disturbing as you would insulting. He expects the plan to work. Therefore, slowly, that's the only way we do this."

Minerva's mouth was twitching.

"For goodness' sake, Minerva, just say whatever it was."

"I wouldn't know where to begin, the opportunities are endless."

Hermione smiled and rolled her eyes. "Look, if nothing else, we know that Lucius and Draco Malfoy wouldn't fall for it and they'd find some way to prove to Voldemort that it was all a lie."

Snape nodded slowly. "Agreed."

"Well, now that we have that sorted, I believe Mister Potter is waiting for you in the hallway, Hermione, so I'll let you be. I have some class notes to finalise before tomorrow."

Minerva bade her good night and Snape turned around and preceded her exit from the Great Hall. Harry was lounging against the wall, propped up by a suit of armour, hands in his pockets and looking rather scruffy with his tie askew and his shirt un-tucked. It didn't take a genius to see why he had suddenly become so popular with the girls at Hogwarts (and, indeed, some of the boys) and Hermione, whilst perhaps no genius, wasn't stupid enough to miss it.

"Hey gorgeous," he said with a wink as she approached him. Hermione glanced around and he chuckled. "I sent them all up to the common room. Didn't think you'd appreciate being bombarded before classes even started, Professor."

"Thank you, Harry."

He glanced around. "Am I allowed to hug you?"

She laughed. "I don't think so, actually, which I have to say I'm not too happy with, because I could really use one."

Harry took one more glance around and pulled her into a tight hug. He held her for a few minutes before reluctantly stepping back. "Snape was the last person to leave and I figured, with you two being so chummy and all, he might not report you," he said with a wink.

"What do you mean, chummy? We are not chummy, just…tolerating each other. Plus, we have a project we're working on together for the NEWTS."

Harry groaned. "What did you get me into, Mia?"

"Nothing you can't handle, Jamie."

Harry rolled his eyes. "You know that doesn't bother me any more than my calling you 'Mia' bothers you."

"I know." In truth, Hermione knew it wasn't just a case of it not bothering him; Harry liked it when she called him 'Jamie'. She didn't call him it very often, just every now and then when she thought he needed it. Hermione knew what it meant to him to have that link to the person he'd lost, in the same way that calling her Aunt Aeva 'Linda' gave the woman a link to her own mother as well as Hermione's. 'Linda' had been Hermione's mother's pet name for her aunt and it was Hermione's way of keeping her mother alive. Sometimes she felt Harry needed that as well, to keep his parents alive as much as possible, it was something she'd always hoped she'd never understand first hand. Some things just weren't meant to be.

"So if a hug's out of order, I'm guessing you won't be allowed to show me these swanky new rooms of yours either," he said forlornly. They had both known her becoming a Professor would cause changes in their relationship, but now, being faced with them, it seemed so much worse.

"I'm guessing it would be."

"So," Harry glanced around again, "your powers are starting to surface?" he asked.

She nodded. "And, can I just say, you're so pretty." She was able to hold a straight face for about ten seconds, but the reaction was priceless. She laughed uncontrollably for a few minutes, before reining it in and looking at a glaring Harry.

"How many times do I have to tell you that 'pretty' is not a masculine word and you're not allowed to use it on anyone but George."

"I thought it was Fred we'd decided was too pretty."

"It was until George gave me the prototype to their new sweets and I was making baboon noises for an entire evening."

Hermione frowned. "No, that was Fred; George owled me."

"He did escape rather quickly," Harry said slowly. "Okay, so you can call Fred pretty, but that's it."

"But you are pretty, all blue and silver and gold, with just the right amount of blinding white light to guide you to your trusty steed. Look," she said, melodramatically indicating the suit of armour behind him, "you're all set to go."

"And you're all set to be tortured."

Her eyes widened. "You're not allowed to tickle teachers," she said, backing away as he began to advance. "It's against the law. They can send you to Azkaban. Y…You'll be expelled. I'll be fired! No, Harry, please don't!"

He stopped right in front of her and smirked evilly. "Only because I know you're a screamer-"

"Harry James Potter!" she interrupted, with mock indignation.

"-and - let me finish, Hermione Granger, you perverted little witch - I don't fancy bringing the entire castle down here. But I will get you when you least expect it."

"I can zap you with my new powers, you know." There was a moment's silence before they burst out laughing.

"But you're doing all right, no more fainting?"

"I had another spell last night, but it's all taken care of and it shouldn't happen like that again. I'd tell you about it but-"

"But you can't. It's okay, Hermione, I know how it works, remember."

"I do." Her thoughts were drifting to Ron and she wasn't ready to go there yet. So, before Harry could mention him, she decided to continue. "Poppy has demanded that I inform you that you are to take me immediately to the Hospital Wing if you think anything's wrong. I will, however, stress that if you let her put me in one of those itchy nighties, I will hex you where it hurts."

"Are violent tendencies a side effect of Hermanté powers, because I'm not covered with life insurance and-ouch! Okay, I'm sorry." He laughed at her. "It's fine, I promise, okay. You're coping with it, though?"

She sighed. "I don't know, I think I'm starting to pick up on other people's feelings. When everyone came in and saw me I just couldn't decide how I felt, I just kept feeling like I think I was expected to feel. Does that make sense? It was as if I could sense what everyone was thinking seeing me up there and I…couldn't cope."

"You looked like you coped just fine to me."

"Oh, Harry, I'm so out of my depth! I'm supposed to be an emotion witch, which is ridiculous - I have no patience for people whatsoever!"

"Not to mention that when someone cries, you like to run in the opposite direction," Harry added with a smirk.

"Hey!"

"Don't you 'hey' me, it's true! That time Parvati was crying about her break up with Seamus, you were actually flapping your arms helplessly."

"She launched herself at my shoulder as if she was an American linebacker! I thought she was about to rugby tackle me."

"You realise they're two completely different sports, right?"

"Don't be silly, American Football is - why do they call it 'Football'? They use their hands for ninety percent of the game. American Football is just Rugby for people who want to pad themselves and keep their teeth. My dad always said it was Rugby for wimps."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Did your dad every watch a game?"

"Don't be silly, the closest thing to sport my dad got was hiking. He didn't even like golf, he agreed that it was 'a walk spoiled'."

"Right. Why are we talking about this again?"

"Parvati."

"Oh, yes, I remember. Your tendency to run away screaming when someone who isn't family or a close friend actually turns to you for emotional support."

"That's harsh."

"True. I think I'm the only person you're okay with comforting and that's because we both like to grieve alone."

Hermione nodded, the tone of the conversation really registering. "I know."

"You do know that I'm always here if, you know, you decided you want to grieve with someone?"

She smiled. "Of course I do. That's what makes it so easy to do it alone; the knowledge that I don't have to. I know you're there to fix me if I break."

"Well, this is decidedly sappy," Harry said after a moment. "You sure you didn't spend your summer working in Clinton Cards or Birthdays instead of studying for your exams?" She whacked his arm playfully and he laughed. "So, how's your aunt?"

"Still pregnant, still eating disgusting concoctions. Oh, did I ever thank you for sending her those awful sweets the twins made?"

"Hey, they were actually really good and the ones I sent Linda were Muggle proof, didn't even transfigure."

"No, you're right, they didn't," Hermione agreed, "but picture them covered in marmite put in a blender with banana and spread on toast! Yes, that's the colour I looked when I saw her eating it."

"What the heck gave her the idea to do that?" Harry asked, utterly disgusted.

"I didn't ask. She mentioned something about a dare from Remus, but I think she took it too far. Darren was nearly sick when he saw it. It went a horrid shade of puce."

Harry frowned. "I've never really understood what colour 'puce' was, but the name implies enough really."

"Exactly." They were silent for a moment before Hermione sighed. "I really better get going, I have NEWT level first thing tomorrow and I have the feeling I'm going to get eaten alive."

Harry shook his head. "Not a chance, you'll be wonderful." He kissed her forehead (after checking they were, indeed, alone) and bade her good night. "Sleep tight, Professor," he said as he began ascending the stairs, "you've a big day ahead tomorrow."

"Night, Harry."

As she turned and headed towards her rooms, she couldn't ignore the surge of sadness that was enveloping her. As much as she loved her new role and as much as she needed to be where she was, doing what she was, she hadn't thought it would hurt quite so much to leave everyone else behind. Especially Harry. Deciding it wasn't too late to call her aunt, since the baby had a tendency to keep her up late by kicking into the night, she decided to have another go at enchanting her mobile phone and seeing if she could call home. It wasn't her parents, but it was the next best thing. At worst, Snowshine would have some work to do tonight, but either way she knew that, tomorrow, her entire world was about to change. She just wasn't sure how she would fit into it.

xxxxx

TBC in Part B

(Part B is finished and just being looked over. If I can get back into the internet café it should be up by the end of the week.)