Disclaimer and Author's Notes: See Chapter One.
My Angel
In summers past, I dreaded the first of September and with it, the start of another school year filled with ignorant, lazy, undisciplined students. The one bright spot of hope shining through my despair was the chance to expand Hermione Granger's knowledge of potions. Now that she has graduated, that hope has fled. All I have are a handful of her essays, the parchments now horribly creased by my frequent readings, and my nightly dreams of a future with her that can never be.
Yesterday morning, Fawkes delivered an annoyingly cheerful letter from Dumbledore. He wrote that he had found a teaching assistant for me. I am eternally grateful to Albus, but must I show that gratitude by subjecting myself to every idea of supposedly improving my life that he can think of? I wrote a reply reminding Albus that not only did I not request an assistant, I work best when I am alone, and I have no room in my classroom or my office for another person who will only get in my way. The phoenix flew off with the letter clutched in his beak and I assumed that was the end of it.
Once again, I found that Albus can be irritatingly unpredictable. The old man couldn't even wait an hour before responding that this unnamed person received high marks in both Potions and Advanced Potions and was very eager to work with me. I responded that I would discuss this matter further with Albus when I return to Hogwarts next week. With any luck, I will convince him to hand this assistant off to someone else.
My return to Hogwarts at first seemed no different than any other. The halls were blessedly silent and empty, save for Filch occasionally chasing that blasted poltergeist Peeves. During breakfast in the Great Hall, Albus and Minerva had a heated discussion about something or other. I paid little attention to them, preferring to focus on the food. At one point, Albus turned to me and remarked, with that damn twinkle in his eye, that my new assistant was waiting for me in my office. I responded that whoever they are, they could wait until I had finished breakfast. Nothing could entice me to meet then, of course, reject this person with an empty stomach and no caffeine.
A leisurely bowl of porridge and two cups of coffee later, Albus reminded me that my assistant was still waiting and had been in my office for over an hour. His attempt to hasten my departure wouldn't work; everything in my office that must be kept from prying eyes had been carefully warded. On the way there, I passed the Bloody Baron, who said nothing, as usual, but did smirk at me. I could only wonder what that was about. A date with the Grey Lady seemed the most likely.
Once inside the Potions classroom, I was suddenly overcome with an immense longing. There was Hermione's chair at the table she had shared with that imbecile, Longbottom. I could almost see her there -- whispering instructions to the boy, reminding Potter and Weasley to pay attention, desperately trying to get me to call on her when she knows the answers to my questions. How I wished I could go back in time to stop myself from being so cruel to her. She deserved none of my apparent scorn and all of the praise I failed to give her.
A loud thud coming from my office roused me from my melancholy. Determined to rid myself of my unwanted and unnecessary assistant, I quickly crossed the length of the classroom and yanked open the door. My immense irritation instantly turned to shock when I saw Hermione seated in front of a blazing fire in the fireplace, one or other of my books in her hands. I didn't notice which one as I was blinded by the delight in her smile and in her eyes as she greeted me.
I stared at her, dumbfounded, as she cheerfully thanked me for taking her on as my assistant. At the mention of her position, I was able to get a hold of myself. I started to protest, telling her that I never asked for an assistant. The disappointment in her eyes made me stop. She begged me to give her a chance, saying that in a fortnight, I'd wonder how I ever got along without her.
The fortnight has passed, and all I can say is how relieved I am. My incredibly annoying students direct their questions to Hermione. The younger students, even some Slytherins, go to her for advice. She grades all of the first, second, and third years' work, leaving the rest to me. The few evenings that there are no misbehaving students to clean the classrooms during detention, she insists on doing the work with me.
In short, she has saved me from the near-constant headache I have during the school year. Tomorrow, I will ask Albus to give her a raise. As for my feelings towards her, my nightly dreams of her have dissipated. It would seem that her presence has saved me from that ache as well.