A/N: Chapter Thirty-Three, homies!

Four Months Later

I'm not going to lie. It was difficult, being apart from him for such long, seemingly endless periods of time. I struggled, and he did, as well, but we did what we could to make it work. I saw him most weekends and a couple work nights per week. For some reason, he appeared healthier to me. I knew he still paid weekly visits to his specialist Healers and that Madam Pomfrey was there for him at Hogwarts, should he require assistance, which eased most of my concern — but there was still one looming issue that came with his new role as Potions Master.

"I bet all those tight teenaged cunts are wet for him as we speak," Astoria voiced, tapping the charred bits from her cigarette, as we eased into Autumn with a couple drinks at the trendy place down the road from her flat.

More than a few patrons eyed at me, as my drink went down the wrong pipe. "Bl — Bloody hell —" I choked, eyes wide as she chuckled at my expense. "You don't hold back, do you?"

"I save the poised, polite behaviour for Daphne," she winked, leaning closer to me, across our table. "Besides, don't tell me you've never had impure thoughts about an authority figure."

"Have you?"

It was in this moment, that she smiled something devilish. "Remus Lupin."

I gaped at her. "Really?"

"Really," she furthered, thinking distantly of our former Defense Against Dark Arts instructor. "Especially after the whole school found out he was a werewolf. Shame what happened to him."

" — and Tonks," I added, reminded of the casualties. " — but that's quite shocking. I always figured the Slytherins hated Professor Lupin."

"Why is that?"

I shrugged. "He was Gryffindor."

"Oh, darling, you have so much to learn," she voiced, taking another drag from her slim cigarette, reminding me of Audrey Hepburn, what with her silk black gloves and her hair secured in a sleek knot. "The best sex, is the sex you're not allowed to have."

"Forbidden love," I gathered.

Astoria flashed me a knowing look. "No one said anything about love."

"Then what are you talking about?"

"Fucking," she answered. "Don't tell me you've never fucked your boyfriend."

I blushed, and then wheeled a look around to see if anyone had overhead. "Of course, I have. I lost my virginity to him."

She narrowed her eyes at me. "I'm not talking about 'making love' or having safe, controlled sex. I'm talking about the face down, arse up, sweat dripping down your back fucking that we all dream about."

"I — I suppose I had that with Oliver," I shrugged. " — and maybe Draco."

"Most definitely the latter," she inserted. "If there's one thing that boy knows how to do, it's fuck your brains out."

I couldn't help but laugh a little. "Funny thing is, he practically ruined my life for a couple weeks there."

"He does that from time to time, makes you feel like you're on top of the world and then takes it away, because he needs to 'find himself' or whatever other nonsense he cooks up in that pale blonde head of hair."

"Cheers to that," I added, holding my glass up and taking a drink. "So, what did he do to you?"

"Apart from take my virginity and then refusing to acknowledge that anything had happened between us for the past eight years? Nothing."

I blinked hard. "Merlin's tits…"

"Tell me about it," she agreed, lighting another cigarette. " — but let's not get side tracked."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

Astoria eyed me knowingly, with a surprisingly good grasp on the ins and outs of my personality, despite the time we had spent loathing one another. It was a strange thing, being 'friends' with her, but I found I quite liked her brutal honesty.

"Admit it," she began, smiling. "As a teenager, you had at least one sexual fantasy about an older man."

I opened my mouth, appalled. "That — That's —"

"True?"

"Maybe."

Astoria burst out laughing, startling me and then coaxing a small smile from me. It was refreshing, being able to have a civilized conversation with her; well, close to civilized.

"Details, Granger. I need details."

I laughed a little, too, drowning whatever friction remained between us with some good ole liquid courage.

"Sirius Black," was the only name that escaped my lips.

"Oh — yes," she nodded, recalling the runaway prisoner. "It's a shame that he was locked up for thirteen years. Just imagine all the damage he could have done."

"Cheers to Sirius," I announced, raising my glass for the second time that night. " — for being the hottest, most delicious convict in existence, and for unintentionally giving me my first orgasm."

"Hear, hear!" Astoria furthered, clinking glasses with me.

From there, we carried our night into her flat. It was surprisingly smaller than I had expected, given the size of her family home and the size of Daphne's home. But as I soon learned, Astoria had blown away her trust fund within the first couple years of her adult life and was now forced to making an honest living like the rest of us. She worked as an editorial photographer for Witch Weekly magazine and by doing so, made quite the name for herself and earned enough to purchase a trendy flat in central London.

I scanned her portfolio, amazed. "These are gorgeous."

"It's all lighting and angles," she shrugged, downplaying her talents with a glass of wine in hand. "Besides, those were taken with my old camera."

"You have a new one?"

Astoria nodded, showing me the device in question. It was similar to a DSLR — besides the fact that it wasn't digital. "Come to think of it, you're the one who got me hooked onto photography…"

I paused a moment, before remembering what happened with Oliver, at Harry and Ginny's wedding. "Oh, yeah."

"Sorry about that," she offered, fidgeting with various dials on her camera. "How about, to make up for it, we doll you up, do a small shoot right here, right now, and send the photographs to Hogwarts' newest Potions Master?"

"Nott already has photos of me," I reasoned.

Astoria flashed me another one of those knowing looks. "I'm not talking about the wallet sized photographs you send to your nan," she explained, already pouting the lens at me. "Let's do something natural and sexy, something to remind him what he's missing."

I laughed nervously. "Er — photographs aren't really my thing. Little camera shy."

"Nonsense," she scoffed, bringing me to one of the white backdrops she had in the middle of the open, living area and then proceeding to fix the placement of my hair and clothes, before dimming the lighting in her flat to a soft glow. "Perfect."

I watched, standing there with an awkward look on my face, as she proceeded to snap some quick test shots of me, before instructing me to raise my chin and tilt in various directions. It was a strange experience, but I found the longer I spent in front of the camera, the less uncomfortable things became. I angled myself to the side, giving her a profile shot with my head tilted back and my baggy cardigan falling at the shoulders.

"Brilliant," she remarked, concentrated. "Now take off the cardigan and curve one hand around the side of your neck."

I did, tossing the item of clothing so that it was out of frame, and placing my hand where she told me, closing my eyes and then opening them, listening as she hit the button and took about seven or eight stills of me, right then.

Around a minute later, one of the straps on my camisole began to droop, but I didn't adjust it, as Astoria told me this was meant to be an intimate, natural shoot. If I had been told even a couple months ago that I would be standing in the middle of her flat, with her snapping photographs of me, I would have deemed whomever told me to be insane.

But there I was, doing just that.

"Lift the camisole," she then told me. "Just a little."

I brushed it up with one hand, following her instruction as she coaxed me into lifting it a little higher and higher each time, until the lower and side curves of my breasts were visible.

Astoria then cleared her throat, pausing for about a second. "If you're comfortable, take the camisole off and place one arm across your chest, and the other along your waist."

Again, I did.

It wasn't as uncomfortable as I'd imagined, being topless with a camera taking snaps at me. There was a voice in the back of my mind, telling me Astoria hadn't changed and that she was up to her usual antics, and that I would soon find these photographs published in the tabloids, but I ignored that voice and listened to hers instead.

One Week Later

It had been nineteen days, since the last time I'd seen Theodore, and although the voices in my head told me everything was fine and that he'd be home in no time, I couldn't take it anymore. I had to see him, and if he couldn't find the time to come home, as there were mid-terms at Hogwarts, meaning he was busy preparing his NEWT level students for their exams and such, then the choice was left to me, either to stay home and wait another couple nights, or visit Hogwarts on my own terms and see him.

Through many Muggle films and break room anecdotes, I learned never to go for the surprise option, as surprises never turned out well. Instead, I alerted Theo that I planned on going there, to which he seemed beyond ecstatic. I packed my things and Floo'd to Hogsmeade, after which I was met with a thestral drawn carriage and a bouquet of flowers. It wasn't quite winter, which meant there was no snow, but Autumn leaves had begun to fall, decorating my path as the carriage took me from the wizarding village, to the school.

It was beautiful, better than I had remembered.

Almost a decade had passed since the last time I'd been there, in the middle of the school year, around the time the leaves changed colours and the wind grew a little more crisp. It made me feel whole again — young, hopeful, happy — and the moment I arrived at the large double doors, was icing on the cake. I took a careful step on solid ground and expected to find my boyfriend waiting for me, leaning against something, hands in his pockets, with that bashful, sexy smile tugging at his lips — but I was instead met with another young man.

Much younger.

"Hermione Granger?" he asked, about sixteen or seventeen, adorned in Ravenclaw colours, with a familiar look about him and features that told me he was of Asian descent.

I smiled, meeting him with about three feet between us as a group of students stood and pointed at me, whispering things to one another about Harry Potter's friend and a certain balcony incident. Brushing those memories aside, I followed my escort through the doors and into the school, where he led me to the dungeons.

"I'm sorry if this is invasive, but are you related to Cho Chang?" I asked.

The young man looked at me, a curious expression playing on his face. "Why?" he furthered, pausing mid-step and crossing his arms. "Because all Chinese people look alike?"

I stopped, horror-stricken. "No, no, no! That's not what I meant at all. I'm so sorry. I had no intention of —"

"Relax," he laughed, patting me on the shoulder, despite just having met me. "She's my aunt."

"Oh," I breathed out, relieved, too panicked to laugh with him, though trying anyway.

From there, we continued down the corridor, where the windows were no more and torches lined the stone-textured walls. Still a little dazed from the Cho Chang thing, I followed her nephew further down and ended up in front of the Potions room, where he opened the door, providing view of the man waiting on the other side.

I could see that he had gained some weight back, looking toned and healthier than he had earlier in the year. His head was bent over his desk, where he marked essays with red ink, grading them as Severus Snape had once done and leaving pointers along the margins. It was surreal seeing him in professor-mode, but I found I quite liked it.

It was when the door closed, that he glanced up, eyes bright as he found me.

"Hermione," he breathed, rushing to the door and embracing me in a full hug. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you, too — " I told him, suppressing the tears that clouded my vision.

In all the chaos and emotion, neither of us realized there was still someone else in the room — a student, no less. The Ravenclaw cleared his throat, and rocked back on forth from his heels to his toes, with his hands in his pockets. "Erm — still here, folks."

Theo released me, a small blush on his cheeks as he remembered we had company. "Right, sorry —" He then turned to me and introduced us. "Hermione, this is Shen. He's my top student, and every bit as smart as either of us had been at his age. More, now that I think about it."

I smiled, holding my hand out and offering him a small, apologetic look for what happened earlier. "Nice to meet you, Shen. I'm —"

"Hermione Jean Granger, brightest witch of her age, smartest, most accomplished student in Hogwarts history since Tom Riddle Jr., youngest female to earn the title of Senior Auror in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and founder of the famed and underrated Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare," he recited, as though it weren't the first time. " — known simply as S.P.E.W." With that, he gave me a firm hand shake and solid smile. "I'm Shen Chang, son of Jian and Ming Wei, and nephew to Cho. Pleasure to meet you, Miss Granger."

I blinked, glancing from him to Nott, noticing the amusement on the latter's face. "Erm, that's right," I managed to say, surprised by the confidence and firmness in his hand shake. It had taken me years to perfect my own. " — though I'd prefer if you called me Hermione."

Shen smiled deeper then, more so with his eyes than his lips, shooting me a quick wink. "As you wish," and with that, he saluted his Potions Master farewell. "I'll see you Friday. Cheers, Professor."

Nott moved forward and shook his hand the way men did, with a bunch of bumps and nudges and things that made no sense to me. "See you, mate."

Around half a second after the door closed behind Shen, I turned to Nott with an arch to my brow and my arms folded. He simply laughed, bringing me in for another hug and topping it with a smooth kiss on my lips. I couldn't help the breath that escaped me then, as everything in the world felt right again.

"Shen's a fan of yours," he explained, leading me to the door that led into his living quarters, sensing the confusion within me. "He practically begged to escort you here."

"A fan?" I repeated, unaware that I had such things. "That's — odd."

To this, Nott laughed, kissing me again, as though he couldn't help himself. "Now, how about you show me some of those poses?"

A/N: Thoughts? Do we like Shen? lol

Cheers

xo.