Hermione read the job offer in the paper again and again, smiling as she did. No matter how many times she poured over it, the words remained the same. Professor Flitwick had finally retired and Hogwarts was looking for a Charms Professor to replace him.

This was perfect. She had thought of teaching for years. In fact, she had always considered it a natural thing that she should become a Hogwarts Professor one day. The chance to pass on her skills to the next generation, to shape those who would come after her, and hone her natural academic abilities, all in one career? And Hogwarts would always be her home, as it was for so many of them.

The timing had never been right, though. An opportunity for Potions Professor had come up only a year or two ago and she had given it serious consideration, but she had simply had too much to deal with. The breakup with Ron had been a drawn out, depressing thing that had ended up causing serious strain to many of her friendships. And she had always had another book she wanted to publish. Another experiment to perform.

But now, she found with real glee, there was nothing holding her back. She didn't want to be arrogant about it, but she really was perfect for the job. Charms was one of her strong suits and always had been. She had the skills, the experience, and she felt very sure that Headmistress McGonagall would not turn her away.

Already thinking of lesson plans and how on earth she was going to live up to Flitwick's standards, she started working on her expression of interest.

Minerva wrote back with her acceptance quickly. Very quickly. Had she been waiting for Hermione to apply? She wouldn't put anything past the Headmistress.

The next few months went by in a flurry of preparation. Organising the coursework, of course, took up the bulk of her time. The teachers of Hogwarts had a lot of free reign over their material, which was fantastic, but it meant that she had to start nearly from scratch. This was not such a bad thing. It meant she could adjust the course depending on the capabilities of her students, as long as they could pass their exams at the end.

She told everyone the news only weeks before the start of term. She hadn't exactly meant to keep things a secret, but she had just been so busy. Everyone was thrilled for her. Except for her publisher, who pleaded, bargained, and finally tantrumed. It didn't do her any good; Hermione had made her mind up. She was doing this. The next stage of her career, of her life, was about to begin.

The day finally came. September 1st. On a whim, Hermione caught the train. She was given her own carriage and spent the trip looking out the window. Crookshanks' basket sat on her lap. Every now and then, a plaintive meow would emerge from within; Crookshanks promising to be good if only she would let him out. On the seat across from her, Atlas brooded in his cage. Her owl was not happy. Hermione had had the cage made specially for him and she knew it was big enough. The eagle owl was sulking because he wanted to be the one on Hermione's lap. Unfortunately, Atlas was clever enough to have every magical booksellers shop in Britain memorised, but he simply could not wrap his head around how big Hermione's lap was in comparison to his immense, gilded cage. Crookshanks started purring in a smug sort of way.

The journey was a pleasant one. When she wasn't telling Atlas and Crookshanks off, she spent the time remembering all the years of trolley lunches and friendship with Ron and Harry. The memories didn't make her feel sad, as she had thought they might. When she'd first caught the train, she'd had no idea how amazing and special Hogwarts would be. She had been frightened, and more shy than she had let on, but she'd taken the leap of faith anyway. When the nerves rose up at the thought of all the challenges that would surely lay ahead of her, she remembered that, and things didn't seem quite so intimidating after all.

She collected her things and got ready to disembark. Thank god she didn't have to hide anymore. King's Cross has been a nightmare. As it was, with so much luggage she had no choice but to levitate her suitcase.

Children surrounded her on all sides as they got off the train. Some were tiny, and Hermione had to remember that she had been that small herself, once. Others towered above her, looking very serious and gangly in their robes. Regardless of their age, whenever someone spotted her and realised who she was, she would be treated to a chorus of yelps and squeals, and the strange head-bobs of people not used to the gesture.

Crookshanks made a grumbling meow as if to say, Mum, are we there yet? Atlas abandoned his usual pastime of glaring at Crookshanks in favour of glaring at all the other owls instead. Hermione shushed the pair of them. Honestly. She couldn't take them anywhere.

In the end she had to separate herself from the crowd and start walking up towards the school, otherwise they would never have gotten anywhere. The hordes of children followed in her wake, whispering amongst themselves, and Hermione could only glance over her shoulder, and smile.

Headmistress McGonagall personally greeted her at the lake with a warm smile and a hug that made Hermione giddy with joy. One of the boats had been set aside for them, and the Headmistress and the new Charms Professor boarded, sailing smoothly across the lake to the school.

"And you are sure that you are ready to come back to Hogwarts?" Headmistress McGonagall asked, direct as ever. "There would be no shame in having reservations, given everything that happened."

Hermione took a moment to think about it. She looked fondly over the lake to the magnificent old castle, with its many towers drawing nearer and nearer, the red of the sunset bringing out the warmth and the colour in everything. She took a glance beneath the surface of the lake, and sure enough, the gargantuan form of the squid trailed beneath them, amorphous as ever.

Above her, the sky shattered into a thousand jewelled pieces as a flock of brightly-plumed birds flew overhead, singing their strange songs, and she felt her blood thrill in her veins.

Was it possible to feel safe and excited all at once? At ease with herself, and yet desperate to see more, experience more, learn more. It was something that only Hogwarts could make her feel. She had not known how much she had missed the old castle until she laid eyes on it again.

"It's as if I never left." Hermione said honestly.

The old witch gave a nod as if she understood, though Hermione was not quite sure that she did.

The two of them had a great deal to catch up on, and the rest of the journey passed in gentle conversation. Harry and Ginny had had a baby; a little girl named Amelia. Luna had found semi-convincing proof that the Crumple Horned Snorlack might really exist, after all. They were still marvelling over this when they reached the caves beneath the school.

A pair of prefects came to shepherd the children one way, and Hermione and McGonagall went another. The Headmistress, her stride strong despite the cane she leaned on, led her up and up and into the main courtyard, where a dozen or so people patiently awaited them.

Hermione looked down the line of her colleagues as the Headmistress made the introductions. She was glad to see that Sinistra still taught Astronomy. Hermione thought she saw something in the Professor's eyes that said, what took you so long? Hermione shook hands with her warmly.

Next was Neville. Already her dear friend, he was Herbology Professor and Gryffindor Head of House. His face, not so round any more, shone with happiness at the sight of her.

At Neville's side was his grandmother, Augusta Longbottom, who now taught Defense Against the Dark Arts. Hermione was pleased to hear that apparently she had held the post since Hogwarts had reopened; nearly five years.

The witch had changed substantially since their last meeting. The battle of Hogwarts had taken its toll on her. Her back was stooped and her face was scarred. Warding sigils marked her robes, and Hermione was quietly pleased to see that a normal witch's hat, rather than a stuffed vulture, adorned her head. Augusta leaned too heavily on her cane for Hermione to feel comfortable risking a handshake, but the witch gave Hermione a respectful nod in welcome.

An unfamiliar face, who McGonagall introduced as Tiberius Flint, was Head of Ravenclaw House and Arithmancy Professor. He stood tall and dapper in a brown tweed suit. She knew him by name and reputation, if not by sight. Tiberius Flint was a renowned academic, one of the best in the field. Hermione shook his hand firmly, making note to pepper him with questions as soon as she had the time. Even before she had graduated, Arithmancy had always been her favourite subject.

Next to Professor Flint floated Binns, the eternal History of Magic Professor, and beside him stood Professor Grubbly-Plank, for Care of Magical Creatures and the Head of Hufflepuff House. And of course, for Slytherin Head of House and Potions Professor…

Lucius Malfoy. All in black and with his serpent-topped cane. McGonagall had warned her about this. She had made it very clear in her letter that if Hermione wanted the job, she would have to accept his place among the staff. It had not been a difficult decision. This was the opportunity she had been waiting for. She wasn't about to spoil everything in the name of a grudge, no matter how well deserved it was. Besides, she trusted her former Head of House. If Minerva thought Lucius Malfoy didn't deserve to be here, he wouldn't be. It was as simple as that.

The former Death Eater took in her arrival with perfect equanimity. He had not said a word as she was introduced to the rest of the faculty. If not for the little tightening of his face, there would have been no sign that her presence might be concerning for him.

After greeting the rest of her fellow teachers, it was time. In her most polite voice she said, "Good evening, Professor Malfoy." She couldn't quite manage a convincing smile, and abandoned the effort almost immediately. Hopefully that would come with practice.

Malfoy went completely still. It was strangely satisfying to know that she could surprise him.

"Good evening, Professor Granger." He replied, just as carefully and just as politely.

Professor McGonagall was visibly relieved at this cordial behaviour. Perhaps she had expected that they would sling curses at one another in the courtyard.

There was no need for the two of them to fight. She had no intentions of saying so much as a word to him, beyond the bare minimum. At the very least, she would be as professional as his behaviour demanded. They weren't going to work as closely together as they would have if they were Herbology and Potions Professors, or if they were Astrology and Divination Professors, but they would be working together nonetheless.

"Well now," The Headmistress said, "Now that you have met the faculty properly, perhaps we might get you settled into your rooms?"

"I know the way, if you have no objections." Lucius Malfoy said smoothly.

Hermione couldn't conceal her surprise. She wanted to refuse, truce or no truce, but carrying this much luggage was no easy task. If the Charms Professor rooms were where she thought they were, she would benefit from a helping hand.

She nodded her acquiescence. With a flick of his wand, he floated two of her suitcases and she took the animals, Crookshanks' basket held firmly in her left hand, and levitating Atlas in his cage behind her.

They walked through the castle in silence for a while. She found that she didn't really need to think; her feet knew the way. How many times had she run full-pelt to Flitwick's rooms, terrified that she might have made some minor mistake in an essay that would result in her being held back a year, or worse, her immediate expulsion from the school? Too many to count. But the old Professor had borne it all with an indulgent smile and kind reassurances. Flitwick had been one of her best teachers, and most of them had been very good indeed. He had taught her to trust herself, slowly but surely over many years. She hoped she could do the same thing for her own students.

"Forgive me if I have put you on the spot." Lucius Malfoy said. "I only wanted a private word."

He did not seem to notice that the halls were filled with students. Admittedly; they were all far too lost and flustered to be paying much attention to them, but still. They were far from alone.

Lucius was looking at her, she realised. Awaiting a response. Trying to gauge her reaction.

She shifted her grip on the cat basket, trying to remind herself that she had done her best, and if he decided to be really awful, at least it wouldn't be her fault. "Alright, then."

"Thank you."

He said nothing further for a while, perhaps gathering his thoughts.

At last, he continued, "Please understand, Professor Granger, that I take my work here very seriously."

This was not what she had expected to hear. She had expected, had assumed, that the only thing he would possibly have to say to her would be related to the war, or, perhaps, her blood status. Neither of which she particularly felt would be conducive to any sort of civil conversation between them.

"I'm glad to hear that." She replied, feeling quite relieved, but unsure about what this had to do with her.

The Malfoy patriarch went on, "Hogwarts has become a home to me. I have been treated… fairly, here. I have no intentions of making the Headmistress regret her decision to make me Head of House."

Automatically, Hermione said, "Hogwarts will always help those who ask for it."

She couldn't be totally sure, but she thought she saw his face soften, just a little. "Indeed."

They reached her rooms and Crookshanks gave a long, low meow as they came to a stop. Eager to explore, or angry at his confinement?

"Well, thank you for your help." And she heartily wished for him to go away. She was pleased with how things had gone, but now she needed some time to herself, and away from him.

Annoyingly, he chose this moment to say, "Professor Granger, a moment. I have something for you."

Lucius Malfoy reached into his robes, and she had to stop herself from acting on the distrust that rose up in her. A moment later, he brought out a box. She stared at it, and her irritation vanished. Somehow, she knew.

She held out a shaking hand, and took it, opened the lid, and there…

It was her wand. Her wand. The beloved vine wand that Ollivander had first matched her with. She took it in her hand, and tears sprang to her eyes. Lucius turned away, though whether it was out of embarrassment due to her display of emotion, or to give her privacy, she did not know. Nor did she care. A sense of rightness ran all the way up her hand and into her heart. She was whole.

"I must warn you, Bellatrix performed… certain spells with it. I sent it off to be cleansed, but there may still be… traces."

She held the wand to her chest. "What sort of traces?" But she knew exactly what. She had taken Bellatrix' wand after they had fled the Manor. It had been wrong, fundamentally twisted in a way she had not known wands could be. The witch's madness might have pervaded her own wand. The thought was sickening.

If he had sent it off to be cleansed, then perhaps it might be alright. She certainly didn't feel any negative energy emanating from the wand, but there was one way to be sure.

Adjusting her grip on the wand, she said, "Prior Incantato."

A silvery light came from the wand, and manifested as a blur. She thought she could see flashes of shapes in it, but there was nothing she could be certain about. And then there was the flash of light, which she knew to be the moment she had defended Harry from Nagini, and ultimately destroyed his wand.

Lucius gave a satisfied nod at this.

"Bellatrix only carried it for a short while. The wandmakers assure me that it will be made right again with time." Lucius seemed skeptical of this, but he shouldn't have, because it made perfect sense to her. Bellatrix was dead, and any claim that she had over the vinewood wand would have faded enough so that the wand could make its own choice. The wand wanted to be with her again, she knew it for certain.

Hermione wrenched her eyes from her wand and looked at him. There was an empty little moment, and she saw that they had an opportunity. They could have a conversation about what had happened at the Manor, how he had stood by and done nothing as she had been tortured by his sister-in-law. He could apologise, and she could graciously accept, and wounds that were many years old could begin to heal. They could start off, not from afresh, that would never be possible, but from a place of understanding. Forgiveness, maybe.

Hermione wasn't ready for that. All the same, if he had begun she would have tried. But though she could see the same thoughts flitting behind his eyes, he didn't say it. Before she knew it, the moment passed them by.

"What about yours?" She asked instead, not just because she wanted to know, but simply because she wanted to fill the silence.

He started, clearly surprised. "I beg your pardon?"

"Your wand. It was destroyed, wasn't it? When Voldemort tried to kill Harry."

A strange look came in his eyes and he said, shortly, "Yes, it was destroyed."

"But you got a replacement, didn't you?"

He flushed, and then went pale as anger overtook his embarrassment. "I would be a poor teacher without a wand, Professor Granger. Of course I have one. But of course, if my word is not good enough for you-"

She floundered. "I didn't mean it like that! I just mean, it was really awful when I lost mine. It took me months to get used to it, but I did in the end. It's the abilities of the wizard that matters, not the wand." Hermione said. "I've always thought that."

This immediately seemed like a very stupid thing to say, when her fingers were curled around her wand like it was the most precious thing in the world. In that moment someone could have offered her the Elder Wand, and she would have refused it without hesitation, she was so pleased to have her original wand back. But returning her wand to her, cleansed so that she didn't have to see the awful things Bellatrix had done with it, had been a kind thing to do. More than that, it had been the right thing to do, and Hermione was so shocked that he had done it that she found herself prompted to be kind to him.

If Lucius had seen the hypocrisy in what she had said, he didn't say so. He was looking at her as if she had sprouted a second head, and she couldn't really blame him. She shouldn't be talking to him like this.

"Thank you." She said, still holding her wand tightly, as though it might disappear into thin air. Under any other circumstances, the act of thanking Lucius Malfoy would have felt unnatural, repulsive, even, but now she felt that it was hardly enough.

She waited for him to gloat, to lord it over her. It would have made her feel more at ease, if anything, if he behaved in a way that she could have expected. But it didn't happen.

Instead, he gave her a simple nod of farewell and left.

Hermione unpacked in a daze. Unfortunately she did it the magical way, and so it only took her about forty seconds, which sort of defeated the purpose of the whole thing. She needed something to distract her from the thoughts whirling around her head. She tried to coax Crookshanks out from under her bed. She gave Atlas a general idea of where the Owlery was. He did not seem to need her directions and flew off with a haughty hoot. She went over the lists of her students' names again. She checked, for the hundredth time, that her lesson plan was organised as perfectly as could be. And all this, she did one-handed, because she simply could not bring herself to put down her wand.

So Hermione was very glad when she received a note asking her to come to the Headmistress' office before the Sorting Ceremony. She supposed she should have expected it. This was going to be her first Sorting Ceremony as a member of the faculty. It was only natural that the Headmistress would want a few words with her before it started.

She knew all the staircases movements by heart and a few stern words got most of the students moving. It didn't take her long to reach the office. The gargoyles were so excited to see her that they almost forgot to ask her their riddle. It was a philosophical question and one that she would gladly have spent time over, but she didn't want to keep the Headmistress waiting on her first day, so she gave them the short answer. They were satisfied. They turned and rose in their place with a grinding of stone upon stone, and the staircase was revealed.

The moment she stood on the first step she heard McGonagall call out, "Come in, dear."

Hermione smiled as she came into the circular room, marvelling at how different it was since she'd seen it last.

The gentle chaos that had characterised the room under Dumbledore had been replaced with consistent organisation. Everything had a purpose. Everything was neatly shut away in cabinets or arranged methodically on the shelves. This was not to say that the Headmistress' office was not a fascinating place. Hermione could have spent hours studying the spellcraft she saw there. There was a little row of trinkets that transfigured themselves with the regularity of clockwork. Rings into starlings. Necklaces into cockatrices, and so forth. There were priceless books and artefacts that Hermione knew would have made any collector proud, and in one sun-drowned corner, there was an overstuffed cat basket.

Some things hadn't changed. The portraits of Headmasters and Mistresses gone by still hung in their places on the walls, though Phineas Black gave her a haughty look and left the moment she walked in.

McGonagall welcomed her as though she was an old friend. This would normally have knocked Hermione off her feet, if the shock of her wand, her true wand, sitting in the pocket of her robes, was not such a powerful distraction.

McGonagall waved her hand and a plate of biscuits appeared from nowhere. She looked fit to burst with pride.

"Well done, Miss Granger! That type of inter-house cooperation is exactly the sort of thing this school needs!"

Hermione blinked, and realised that Minerva couldn't possibly know about the wand, or the words she and Lucius had shared outside her rooms. She must be talking about earlier today, when Hermione had first arrived.

She took a biscuit, knowing there was no point saying she wasn't hungry. "You mean not starting a fight with Lucius Malfoy in the courtyard?"

"Well, in a manner of speaking." McGonagall paused thoughtfully. "Do you remember, Miss Granger, my apologies, Professor Granger, how the school first was after… what happened?"

"You mean… when Hogwarts reopened with you as Headmistress? I heard-" Hermione stopped herself. "I heard all sorts of things, but none of them first-hand."

"I'm afraid to say that most of what you heard is probably true, Professor Granger. Those were some of the most challenging years of my career. Students hexing each other in the corridors, bursting into tears at the mere sight of their classrooms. To say nothing of all the new ghosts, and the portraits." McGonagall looked down at her teacup and went quiet for a little while.

"You've done an amazing job," Hermione hurried to say. "Things here seem almost-"

She couldn't quite finish it, because it didn't really seem her place to pass judgement on such an esteemed and celebrated witch. What she had been about to say was, 'Things here seem almost back to normal'. But the barrier of admiration still lay between them, and she couldn't quite get the words out without feeling that she might be making an idiot of herself.

Still, McGonagall must have read her mind, because she smiled gently and said, "But not quite, are they? Still, we're making progress. And this brings me to why I asked you to come here-" The Headmistress leaned forward, and Hermione could feel the strength of her will bearing down on her.

"There's a position opening up for Gryffindor Head of House, and I want you to take it."

Hermione's mind went blank as she stared at the Headmistress, waiting to be told that this was all a joke. But Minerva said nothing, and as the silence lengthened, it became very clear that she was not joking.

"It's my first day." Hermione said weakly. "I can't just-"

"But you can, Professor Granger. Neville has enough on his plate, and frankly, you're the obvious candidate. The students adore you, your credentials are beyond reproach, and your attitude is exactly the sort of thing I'm looking for."

"I can't, Headmistress. I have so much work to do, I really won't have time!"

Headmistress McGonagall gave her a dry look. "I don't know how much trouble you could have, Professor Granger, since you wrote half the books on the Charms syllabus this year."

Hermione was torn. On the one hand, this was a huge honour, more than a little exciting, and the trust Minerva was placing in her was deeply flattering. Not to mention how much more she could help the students! On the other hand, she remembered how exhausted she had been in her third year at Hogwarts, when she had tried to take on more than what she could handle. It would be foolish to make that same mistake again.

All things considered, she thought it might have been easier if she had given Lucius Malfoy a sharp slap across the face when they'd met in the courtyard. It certainly would have left her with a lot more spare time.

Minerva favoured Hermione with a fond smile, and the young witch felt the trap closing shut around her.

"Excellent. We shall announce your new position during the Sorting tonight. Oh, and Professor Granger?" The Headmistress' eyes twinkled in a very familiar way. "Welcome to Hogwarts."

Later that evening...

Hermione entered the Great Hall and felt a brief clamour of panic, until Neville saw her. He waved her over and she gladly took the empty space between him and Sinistra at the staff table. She couldn't have asked for better company, or to be much further away from Lucius and Trelawney, who sat at the other end of the table, past Minerva.

The Sorting went well. Hardly any students fell over their feet on their way to be Sorted, and everyone seemed pleased enough with where the Hat had placed them. She remembered her own Sorting, and how she had fervently prayed to be put in Gryffindor, or Ravenclaw, or anywhere that wasn't Slytherin.

It was hard to say, but to her it seemed that Slytherin received a smaller portion of this year's intake than was really normal. Her suspicions were confirmed when she studied the Slytherin table. It was nowhere near as full as the others; the students were spread out and there were gaps. She wondered, to herself, if the war had resulted in so many pureblooded deaths that there were simply less students for the Hat to choose from that fit Salazaar's requirements. Or were the Slytherin traits of ambition, cunning, determination, were less prominent this year?

She snuck a look at Lucius Malfoy from the corner of her eye, curious to see what he thought of it all. But if he noticed what she had, or was concerned by it, was impossible to say. The pureblooded wizard sat tall in his chair, his eyes calmly fixed on his House's table. He did not say a word to anyone.

Headmistress McGonagall introduced her as the new Charms Professor to thunderous applause, particularly from the Gryffindor table. They knew that she was one of them. And then she gave them all the news that she was to replace Neville as Head of House, and the applause became louder still. The teacher's table joined in, albeit in a more dignified way, and Neville stood up and shook her hand in a gesture of solidarity that warmed her heart. She had never gotten around to asking McGonagall why the position of Head of House had opened up, and she had been quietly petrified that Neville would be angry with her when he found out.

Hermione beamed out at the crowd. They adored her. She had been worried, concerned that her parentage would stand in the way, but no-one seemed to care in the slightest. Hogwarts had welcomed her with open arms.

At Minerva's signal, mountains of food simply appeared on the tables. The room was filled with murmurs of joy and incredible smells. It was a spectacle that never failed to impress, and from the staff table she could see every shining face, hear every delighted gasp.

Most of the food she could have seen anywhere; entire roasts, tureens of gravy, platters of mash and vegetables of every kind. This year had been cold, so there were steaming bowls of stew too for those that wanted them. But then there were the jugs of pumpkin juice, the blue roasted mushrooms, and the spiced tree roots that marked this as a meal made with magical people in mind. As always happened on Feast nights, while she hadn't been hungry before, Hermione suddenly found herself starving.

Hermione was quietly thrilled to see that the staff meals were the exact same, although they were given wine. The professors started to tuck in, and Sinistra asked her if she had seen Flitwick recently. Hermione chattered with the Astronomy Professor as she loaded up her plate. She took a glance down the table to see Tiberius Flint deep in conversation with Trelawney. A shame. But she supposed there would be plenty of time for talk later.

It was going to be an interesting year.

Welcome! This fic has been a project of mine for some time and I finally decided just to take the jump and post the first chapter! I know it's not perfect but to be honest, faffing about and changing words here and there was taking forever.

This fic will include mature content, but that's quite a long way off yet. This is going to be a slow burn! The fic will have plenty of fluff/filler chapters, but also has an overall story arc to bind things together. The tone is not as 'dark' as many of my other fics. I want this to be more of a casual, happy read, though there are some serious moments of course!

I really hope you guys enjoy it. Lumione is everything to me. The fic is multichapter and I am hoping to get into the habit of regular updates. Ideally, weekly. But we shall see.

Feedback, criticism, reviews... all very, very welcome.

A huge thanks to my editor, JessariOfErebor!

This fic is also on A03, if you are interested in reading it there!