A/N – Sorry for such a long delay. The holidays are always kind of hectic so I decided to put writing on hold while they were taking place. Well here is chapter 4.

Disclaimer – I do not own. Wish I did. Things would have turned out much differently!

Potions first thing in the morning. Wonderful. Although she had to admit it was better than Transfiguration. She would rather deal with Snape right now than McGonagall. Thinking back to that night in the Shrieking Shack and working furiously to save his life always made her feel the need to head for the bathrooms again. Not because she regretted saving him, no, but because she hated thinking about those times.

Since then though, she and the strict potions professor had developed a friendship, of sorts. She knew that if she needed someone to talk to then he was always willing to listen, not that she ever did. He, just like McGonagall, seemed determined to make her talk about things that were just too painful to relive at the moment. At least he was nicer to her though. Especially since, while she was still receiving top marks in all of her classes, she no longer felt the need to answer every question first. Remembering those days made her smirk at herself. She had been an insufferable know-it-all back then. It had taken her this many years and a war for her to realize that.

She skated her way towards the dungeons taking turns at speeds that normally would have made her teammates fall, but she was used to the harsh turns in the hallways by now. She started to round a corner only to be grabbed from behind. A foolish move for whomever it was because the young witch quickly turned drawing her wand as she went, and before she took notice of the person's identity, had it pointed between their eyes.

Madam Hooch held up her hands and stepped back. "I apologize, I didn't mean to scare you." Truthfully the flying instructor was rather intimidated at having one of the most powerful witches in the world draw her wand on her.

"Sorry," Hermione muttered as she slipped her wand back under her sleeve, into the arm holster. "What can I do for you Madam Hooch?"

"What are you wearing?"

"Jeans and a t-shirt."

"You know what I mean Ms. Ganger." Hooch said raising an eyebrow at the young woman.

"They are called skates. I wear them for practice." She grudgingly admitted. She hated talking about this. She had been interrogated by one professor about it already, was another going to demand to know why she played as well?

"Practice what? Come here." She led Hermione into an empty classroom and the both sat at a table to discuss what this was.

"Roller derby. It's a sport in the muggle world." Conjuring parchment, ink, and quill the brunette drew up the track, all the while explaining the rules to her instructor.

"Sounds like fun." The spikey haired witch said. "Teach me? I would like to learn to play this game."

Hermione's jaw dropped open. Was the woman serious? She actually wanted to learn? She wasn't sure which shocked her more, the fact that Hooch wanted her to teacher her to play, or the fact that Hooch wanted to spend time with her. Most people only avoided her anymore. "You're serious?"

"Yeah. Sounds easy enough to learn but I wouldn't want to try on my own. So teach me."

"O-oh ok. Sure. I can do that. Meet me in the Room of Requirement after classes are over today and we will get started. Just be aware that I have detention with Professor McGonagall for the next month. So I have to be there after dinner every night." She informed the older woman.

"That's not a problem Hermione. Thank you though, for agreeing to this." They stood and made their way to the door.

"No problem, Madam Hooch. It's my favorite game; I have no problem teaching those that want to learn about it." The younger woman spun on her wheels to look at the witch. For the first time she really looked at her. That was when she realized that her former flying instructor was absolutely gorgeous. She looked away. "There will have to be some ground rules though."

"Oh? And what would those be?"

"You don't ask me anything about my past. Nothing about anything you see. In turn I won't ask about you."

"Hermione I don't have a problem with you asking about my past. I don't have any secrets to hide. Granted it is a little unorthodox for you to be teaching me, but I personally don't care. So I don't care if it is unorthodox for us to get to know each other either. Generally speaking I'm not a big stickler for the rules anyway." Hooch grinned but it quickly faded when Hermione shook her head.

"Unorthodox or not, just don't ask ok?"

"Alright, I won't." she agreed. She knew Hermione was battling depression. All of the teachers knew. Part of her reasoning for wanting to learn this sport was so that she could keep an eye on her. After seeing the way she acted in her skates this morning, more like the Hermione everyone knew instead of the hollow shell, she had decided that she would do whatever was necessary to get the girl to smile again, skates or no.

"Well I have to get to class, thank you f-" Hermione stopped herself.

"For what?"

Hermione looked up into hawk-like yellow eyes and felt as though she was about to drown in their color. She blushed and looked back down. "For wanting to spend time with me."

Gentle fingers touched under the brunette's chin tilting her face back up to look at the flying instructor. "You are a wonderful girl, Hermione. Anyone should feel privileged to spend even a moment with you." Tears slowly began to crawl into the young woman's eyes and jump off the ledges of her lashes. Seeing the salt water suicide beginning, Hooch wrapped Hermione in a bone crushing hug. "You may not trust me enough to talk to me about what happened, but I promise you that no matter what you tell me, no matter what you have or haven't done, no matter what, I will be here for you. When you are ready to talk, I will be here. Granted we haven't had any sort of friendship in the past but I can't stand the thought of you hurting anymore. You have been through too much hurt already."

Hermione froze listening to Hooch's words and finally allowed herself to sob. Crying again. Twice in less than 24 hours. This time though, she had a feeling that after it was over, she might actually feel better. Because instead of pushing for her to talk to someone, anyone about what had happened, for once, someone was willing to simply wait. To wait until she was ready to talk.

Her sobbing slowed and finally died. Looking up she whispered a quiet thank you, then turned to leave. On her way out she heard her name called softly. "When we are alone," the older woman said, "call me Rolanda."

A/N – So there it is. Chapter 4. Review please!