A/N: Chapter Thirty-Two! Oh, and anyone who would choose Paris over Hogwarts is not a real Harry Potter fan haha.

I'll admit, when my boyfriend told me we were going to Hogwarts, I expected a romantic weekend in Scotland, with a small visit to our former stomping grounds, during which time I could catch up my old friend, Professor Rubeus Hagrid, and at most, have a bite at the Great Hall — but Hagrid wasn't there and the school was empty save for us and a handful of others.

It was still the height of summer, which meant students were at home, spending the summer with her families. Few staff members remained, but most were on holiday, including Hagrid and his recent fiancé, Madame Olympe Maxime, from the French boarding school, Beauxbatons Academy.

Minerva McGonagall, on the other hand, welcomed us at the large double doors.

I'll be honest. I was more than a little nervous to see the former head of Gryffindor, as she had been a role model to me throughout my stay at Hogwarts and had direct influence over my ambitions following graduation. I didn't want to disappoint her with the choices I had made since Seventh Year, regarding career and personal life alike. Needless to say, my private affairs were detailed in the newspapers on a daily basis.

But the moment she found us, was the moment I realized she hadn't a single shred of disappointment within her being. If I had to guess, I'd say she approved of the fact that her two brightest students were now romantically entangled. I noticed her eyes linger on our interlaced hands, and the small smile that tugged on her lips.

From there, McGonagall led us through the double doors and into the Great Hall, where a small group of professors waved hello and asked about our adult lives. I, along with Nott, tried to keep my composure and answer the questions accordingly — but it was surreal being back there, even in the summer. On pure instinct, I fixed my attention to the ever changing ceiling and watched as simulated clouds drifted in the blue skies, reminding me of the first time I laid eyes on the bewitched ceiling of our meal and assembly room.

"How surreal is this?" Nott whispered to me, mirroring the awe and simultaneous nostalgia that washed over me.

I breathed in, overcome with unexpected emotion, the moment I remembered the last time I had been in the Great Hall. It was seconds after the Battle of Hogwarts, seconds after we returned from the battle grounds and found our dead. Fred, Tonks, Remus, Snape, Lavender, and more.

It occurred to me, around then, that without Lavender, I would never have grown to know Theodore Nott. I would have stayed with Ron and both our lives would have been drastically different — but one thing would have remained the same.

I faced him, as we sat with McGonagall at the staff table and had lunch, discussing politics and other adult topics, aware that his cheekbones protruded out a little further each day and that his usually fitted clothes had grown loose over time. He was thin. Neither toned, nor skeletal, but noticeably thinner than the last time I had taken a moment to look.

Just as his Healer instructed, I kept close watch on him during mealtimes and made sure he took his potions on time, despite his constant reminders that he was also a Healer, and a grown man, capable of taking his morning and evening potions, and capable eating without my hovering. But in the four months since his disease went out of remission, there were certain things about him that had changed. His weight was one of them. It seemed loss of appetite was a side effect of the potions, as well as insomnia. There were dark circles under his eyes, ones that deepened as the days went on, aging him as the first stage of the disease took control.

It hurt to see him like that, to see him change, but the second and third stages were the most dangerous, and once those stages surfaced, there was no turning back.

Two Hours Later

Somewhere along the line, we drifted to different parts of the castle. Nott had some business in the Slytherin Dungeons, leaving me to my own devices, as I traveled to the seventh floor and into the library. During my time at Hogwarts, the library had been my domain, my oasis. I missed being there, surrounded by books and friends, with a Quill in one hand and parchment in the other, whilst Madam Pince kept a watchful eye on me, waiting for me to break even the smallest, most insignificant rule.

"Miss Granger?"

I turned, somewhere along the Potions section of the library, expecting to find the Hogwarts librarian and instead laying eyes on the school nurse.

"Madam Pomfrey," I acknowledged, startled but ecstatic all the same. "It's been far too long!"

She smiled, welcoming me with a light embrace. "Please, call me Poppy."

I returned her smile and found a seat with her at one of the tables. In the last year I spent at Hogwarts, she had really pushed for me to become a Healer, something I had strongly considered but decided against, as Kingsley Shacklebolt needed mine and my friends' help to rebuild the Auror Office.

"Tell me," she started. "How are you?"

In most situations, a question like that would have been idled as small talk, but the look in her eyes told me she had something particular in mind. There was a reason she was close friends with Minerva McGonagall. Those ladies were nothing, if not sharp and perceptive, with finely tuned intuition and brilliant maternal instinct, despite having no children, respectively.

"I'm okay," I told her, speaking the truth. "Some days are harder than others, but I do what I can to be there for him."

She listened. "He's a good boy, that Theodore Nott."

"He is," I nodded. "Practically to a fault."

" — and he's lucky to have you."

I smiled, despite the emotions tugging at my chest.

"It's true," she furthered, speaking with wisdom. "In all my years as a nurse at this school, there was never a student even half as devoted as you, Miss Granger. Your friends Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley suffered many an ailment and injury, and you were always there for them, at their bedside, caring for them as though they were your kin. That's how I know Mr. Nott is in good hands."

I recalled all those times with Harry and Ron, and sometimes Ginny. It seemed, through my adolescence, I always had at least one friend in the Hospital Wing — from either Quidditch related injuries or injuries suffered from our tangos with death term after term.

"Just bear in mind that your own health and happiness should not be sacrificed," she added, distant as she paralleled my situation with another. "Once upon a time, there was another witch at this school whose significant other fell ill. I watched her suffer right along with him, tend to him, do everything in her power to save him from his illness, only to have him torn away without a moments notice."

"Headmistress McGonagall," I voiced.

Madam Pomfrey nodded. "She's a good friend of mine, and although she has since moved on from what happened to her husband, there are parts of her that will never be whole again, and I would hate to see that happen to you, Miss Granger."

I allowed her words to sink in, knowing she was right, knowing my friends had the same thoughts in mind.

"If you need anyone to talk to, know that I'm here."

"Thank you," I told her, speaking from the heart. "Truly."

Four Hours Later

It was about midnight, when Nott found me in the library, snuggled up to a tattered, first edition copy of Hogwarts, A History. I couldn't help myself. It was right there, practically calling out to me. I was mid-way through it, around the time he slipped his arms around me and kissed me first on the forehead and then on the lips. It was nice being close to him, after years of ignoring the chemistry between us.

"Tired?" he asked me.

I nodded, tossing a look at the time on his wristwatch. "Where are we sleeping?"

From there, his expression changed to something I couldn't quite pinpoint, leading me to believe there was a surprise in store. I followed him from the library, down the Grand Staircase and towards the dungeons, sparing a thought as we passed the location of that one pivotal moment in our sixth year.

But there was no time to stand around and recall those memories.

Nott led me to the end of the first corridor, to the door of the Potions Classroom — and turned to me as we made our way inside. "There's a bedroom connected to the office," he explained. "We'll be spending the night in there."

I arched an eyebrow. "We're spending the night in Slughorn's living quarters?"

"Erm, not quite," he furthered, avoiding my curious looks. "Slughorn retired at the end of term."

"Oh," I voiced, surprised. "Then who's the new Potions Master?"

Around then, he turned to me, wielding those eyes and that whisper of a smile with enough precision to confirm the narrow inkling that been circulating within my subconscious since we arrived at Hogwarts.

"You're looking at him," he uttered, bringing our hands together and kissing mine, from my wrists to my palms to the tips of my fingers, attuned with my emotions before I had the chance to process them.

I blinked.

"Please don't be cross," he whispered, kissing my along the bridge of my nose. "It came out of nowhere. I applied over a year ago, back when Slughorn announced he planned on retiring at the end of term. I did it on a whim, and didn't expect to actually get the job — but here we are. I — I know I should have told you sooner."

"That's not the problem," I said to him, finding the worths as they came to me. "Of course, I would prefer to have known sooner, but all that matters right now is your health. Do you think it's wise to teach school children, when each and every Healer you've spoken to for the past four months, has explicitly told you to refrain from placing yourself in stressful situations?"

For some reason, he smiled. It was not the reaction I had expected, but the longer it lasted, the more clear his thoughts became. "You're beautiful, when you're worried. Did you know that?"

"Theo."

"Sorry," he quickly apologized, bringing us to one of the desks in front, where we leaned against the edge. "I know it's unwise to take this job, given my condition, but I can't the chance pass me by. I've always wanted to do this, Hermione, to teach."

"I know," were the only words to come from my lips, as my thoughts circulated the reason behind this dream of his.

His attention drifted downward, to the floor. "The disease is hereditary. I decided a long time ago that I wouldn't have kids, and that I wouldn't let the cycle continue," he explained, repeating the discussion we had about a month ago. " — but with this job, I can still mentor these students and be there for them, the way Severus Snape was there for me. I can — I can teach, Hermione."

I noticed the manner in which his eyes brightened, as he uttered the last bit. It was clear to me then, that this wasn't something he had taken lightly. There was a lot of thought behind it, thought that extended above and beyond our relationship. In that moment, I was happy for him. I understood his disposition.

"Are you okay?" he asked me, tracing circles on the small of my back with the bud of his thumb. "I know this is a lot to handle, but there are plenty of professors here that maintain relationships and families during the school term. I'll be home every weekend and most week nights. It's doable. It's definitely doable."

For a moment, there was silence between us, wherein I leaned against his shoulder and his hold on me tightened.

"Theo…" I said again, with no admonishment this time around. "If you do this, you have to promise me you'll leave, the moment things get out of hand."

"You have my word," he vowed. "I'll keep those students in line. I'll make sure the name Professor Nott is as feared as Professor Snape had been."

It was around then, that I paused. "Professor Nott," I repeated, looking up at him, feeling his breath tickle the skin of my lips. "That sounds…"

"Stern? Serious? Strong?"

"Sexy," I finished, smiling against his lips as we kissed. "Do you mind helping me with something, Professor?"

The new Potions Master returned my smile and brushed his hand along the fabric of my skirt, dragging it up around my hips. "My door is always open to you, Miss Granger."

A/N: Thoughts?

Cheers

xo.