A/N – Thanks to everyone who takes the time to read this, it's still just getting going but should pick up soon. Constructive comments welcome as ever.

Disclaimer – This all belongs to the wonderful JK Rowling, except my OCs.

Tutorials and Truces

The next morning Hermione was rudely woken when the curtains on her four-poster were suddenly pulled apart by the youngest Weasley. She yelped and tried to hide under her pillow but Ginny wasn't going to be deterred that easily.

"You've overslept Hermione! You've missed breakfast and barely have time to get to your class!"

That news spurred Hermione into action, she leapt up and began to frantically pull on her school clothes, not paying much attention to her appearance as she panicked.

"Why didn't you tell me? How could you let me keep sleeping? What if I'd missed some of the class?"

Ginny laughed as she slung her bag over one shoulder. "For the first time in ages Hermione you were actually sleeping. I wasn't going to wake you up before I had to."

Hermione blushed, she had assumed that she'd managed to keep her insomnia to herself, but given that she'd been sharing a room with Ginny almost continuously since the end of the war maybe it wasn't such a surprise that the younger girl had noticed. Lost in thought for a moment, she barely reacted to Ginny leaving until the girl coughed, indicating she should also be moving. Gasping, Hermione followed her quickly all the way to Transfiguration.

The girls made it just in time, Ginny suavely slipping into a seat next to Harry while Hermione adjusted her skirt – typically facing back to front – and thumped into the chair next to Ron. She had just time to register a smirk on a pale face (why does he think he's so much better than me, just because I overslept and didn't have time to dress properly) before their new professor swept into the room, her red hair bouncing in effortless curls down her back. Hermione looked at it in envy why can't I ever get my hair to bounce like that? All I have is a frizzy mess…

"Good morning class," Professor Dante said, perching herself on the edge of the large wooden desk in a way that Professor McGonagall would never have done. "For the first part of this year we are going to concentrate on transfiguring ourselves." There was a gasp from the class at this, they have never touched on self transfiguration before.

The professor had them working in pairs, trying to change the colour of their hair. It was so much harder to do the transfiguration on themselves than on others, and it took an immense amount of concentration to hold it. Hermione had nearly made hers pink when she was assaulted by the memory of Tonks' bubblegum-pink hair, and she lost concentration causing her hair to return to its normal brown shade as she choked back a sob. Apparently the rest of the class were having similar problems, and by the end of the lesson they were all exhausted but no closer to changing hair colour. Dante set them all an essay on why self-transfigurations were so difficult, and told them all she expected them to have made some progress by their next session. It had become apparent that although the new professor had laughing eyes and a friendly smile when it came to strictness in her classes she was McGonagall incarnate.

Following transfiguration Hermione headed to arithmancy, where she was given even more homework, before heading down to the great hall for lunch. She ate with her arithmancy book propped open on the table, already starting the essay so that it didn't pile up too much. She was joined shortly afterwards by Ron and Harry.

"Working already Hermione?" Ron asked, staring at her book.

"I need to keep up Ron," she replied calmly without looking up, grabbing another sandwich absently. Ron rolled his eyes at Harry and then sat down next to her.

"So, want to hang out this evening?"

"I can't, Ron," Hermione reminded him gently, "I have the first of my healing tutorials." As she spoke a single tawny owl swooped through the great hall, depositing a note in the centre of Hermione's book. Surprised, she opened it.

'Miss Granger,

Your first lesson in healing potions will take place this evening in my office. Do not be late.'

Harry read the note over her shoulder. "He didn't even sign it." He shook his head in exasperation before returning to his soup.

Ron was staring at his plate of food. "If you're taking all these extra classes for healing, what with out auror ones, we won't have any time together."

"I know Ron," Hermione replied sympathetically, placing her hand on his arm. "But we'll sort something out." She returned to her half eaten sandwich, before realising the second part of what Ron had told her and squeaked. "Wait, auror classes? You didn't tell me!"

Ron ducked his head to hide his embarrassed grin. "Harry and I got letters this morning. We'll start auror classes on Tuesday, with a different teacher every week. Sometimes there'll even be visiting experts doing some special classes at the weekend."

"That's great!" Hermione cried enthusiastically, hugging her boyfriend tightly. "I'm so pleased for you!"

Ron looked pretty pleased with himself too, as he patted her on the back. "Yeah, well it's nothing really, but it will be nice to get ahead in our training for next year."

-x-x-

The afternoon was spent in potions with Professor Slughorn, and went by very quickly. They were all beginning to realise that there was a lot of things they needed to cover in this final year in order to pass their NEWTs, and all the teachers were pushing them hard and setting a lot of homework. Once the lesson was over Hermione, Harry and Ron went back to the Gryffindor common room to work on their transfiguration essays before dinner. Or at least, Hermione did – Harry and Ron were busy discussing the best date to arrange quidditch trials.

"Shouldn't you be getting on with some work," she asked, glaring at them as they began discussing some of the manoeuvres performed by Ireland's chasers at this year's world cup (where Ireland defended their title).

Ron rolled his eyes at her. "It's the first day back, 'Mione. We've got loads of time to do that essay."

Harry looked nervously at the witch. "Actually Ron, I seem to remember putting it off last time too and it didn't end well. Maybe we should do some work." He sat down next to Hermione on the sofa and began thumbing through a textbook while she regarded him with a mixture of surprise and approval before returning to her own work. With a grumpy sigh Ron slumped down in a chair and picked up a book as well, flicking through the pages absently.

For an hour the trio sat working, until Ron realised it was dinner time and dragged Harry and Hermione away. They ate quickly, Harry and Ron keen to start planning the quidditch team and Hermione nervous about her first healing tutorial. It didn't help that Snape would be presiding over it, she had always felt nervous under his tutelage and she knew he thought she was an 'insufferable know-it-all'. Or at least, he had. Whether the Professor Snape who had returned to Hogwarts this year was the same as the one she had known so far still remained to be seen.

-x-x-

Her first impressions as she entered his office nervously didn't help. Although he had now taken over the Defence Against the Dark Arts office, it still seemed to resemble the dungeon somehow. He wasn't there, so she began to look around. The interior of this office had changed many times since Hermione had been at school here, and it's latest incarnation included lots of vials of potions in many colours lining the walls, with some interesting-yet-menacing looking instruments that she didn't want to know the use of finding spaces between the books on the shelves. She was trying to work out the use of one particularly painful looking implement when she realised she wasn't alone.

Snape was looming behind her, his long hair falling forwards into his face and his dark eyes glaring at her. Hermione suddenly realised that looking around his office was an invasion of his privacy, given that he hadn't been there or given her permission. She stood nervously waiting for the reprimand, and was even more surprised when it didn't come. Instead, he turned on the spot, causing his robes to billow behind him and snapped "Follow me," as he strode back out of the office. Gulping, Hermione did so without a word, trotting to keep up with his long strides.

"Where are we going Professor," she gasped out as they descended one of the many staircases.

"To one of the potion classrooms," came the terse reply. "You did not expect to be brewing healing potions upstairs?" His voice was laden with sarcasm, and Hermione bristled with the unfairness. Of course she would expect to work upstairs, that was where he had arranged to meet her. They had just entered the potions room when another thought struck her.

"Why isn't Professor Slughorn teaching me healing potions, sir?"

Snape scowled at her as began removing some ingredients from a cupboard at the back of the room and gestured for her to start setting up a cauldron. "He has other commitments that prevent him from tutoring you, and so naturally the honour has fallen on me and the delightful Professor Dante." The sarcasm again dripped off his words, and Hermione paused in her work and looked in surprise. Snape didn't always have the best opinion of the other teachers but he usually at least treated them with respect. She was about to ask him about it when he spun around, glaring again. "I don't believe I asked you to stop what you were doing."

Hermione jumped, blushed and began setting out the knives again, silently fuming. These sessions were not going to be fun if she was going to be endlessly treated like a child. Technically she wasn't even school age anymore, and it was because she cared about her education that she had actually come back. Why he couldn't then give her even the smallest amount of credit and actually recognise her abilities? It was unfair and unjust, but that was nothing new coming from Snape. She was so caught up I her reverie that she hadn't realised he had spoken to her until his tapping foot made her realise he was expecting an answer.

"I…I'm sorry Professor, I didn't catch that."

"You could at least pretend to be paying attention Granger, given that I am giving up so much time for this."

"I'm sorry sir, it won't happen again."

With a final glare, Snape resumed. "I asked you what you knew of the Wolfsbane potion."

"The Wolfsbane?" Hermione thought for a moment, trying to think of everything she knew. It was the potion that Lupin had used monthly in order to control his werewolf during the full moon, and she knew that although it was effective it was known for its draining side effects. She repeated this all to Snape, who stood and watched her. When she finished he nodded curtly.

"The side-effects are prohibitive for the Wolfsbane, and if its use is to become widespread will need to be eradicated. In these sessions we will look at the potion, and try to modify it to reduce these effects."

Hermione gasped. She had thought that they would just be studying the potions, not looking at how to change them. This was higher level work than she was used to, and although she was excited the thought made her extremely nervous as well.

Snape took in her shocked expression. "If I were simply going to teach you how to make potions then you may as well just take Professor Slughorn's remedial class," he patronised. "I was led to believe you were an intelligent witch, so close your mouth and start brewing the Wolfsbane."

Hermione jumped into action, nearly running over to where Snape had deposited the ingredients for the complex potion. She knew how to make it, she had spent time researching it before, but was relieved to see that the instructions were also on the table. She spent the next couple of hours brewing, with sarcastic comments from Snape interrupting where he felt it necessary. Although she could have dispensed with the sarcasm, she had to admit that she learnt a lot just in the one session. Snape was very knowledgeable and she tried to pay attention – by the end it almost felt as though some of the irritation had left his voice and the sarcasm was there more for habit than because he was actually annoyed. Eventually the potion was left to boil for a week, and she was finally dismissed from the dungeon. Wandering back through the castle she realised that it must be long after the curfew, judging by the silence in all the corridors. Irrationally she really hoped that no one found her out of bed – as Head Girl she technically was allowed out after curfew, but Filch didn't always see it that way.

She reached the peace of her dorm room safely, and quickly slipped into bed. This year is going to be tiring, even by my standards she thought wryly as she slowly slipped into sleep for another dreamless night,

-x-x-

The next morning she managed to wake up in time for breakfast, walking downstairs with Ginny, Harry and Ron. Ron had his arm draped around her waist loosely as he was telling her all about his quidditch session the evening before. Hermione nodded and smiled in all the required places, but was really looking around to see who else had returned. It seemed that only about half the former sixth and seventh years had returned to take their NEWTs, although she believed that more of her year would turn up about a month before the exams to attend revision sessions. As she was looking around she was distracted by a scowling blond sat watching them from the Slytherin tables, so much so that she missed something Ron had said.

"So what do you think Hermione?"

"Um…I think it will all work out fine." Ron looked at her slightly strangely but accepted the answer, while Ginny seemed to be trying very hard not to laugh. Ron immediately continued with his tirade that 'eighth' years couldn't play for their house quidditch teams this year – it was deemed that the younger house members should be given their turn. They had only found out the night before when they had gone to speak to McGonagall after dinner about the team trials.

"…but we weren't even here last year, honestly the one thing I was looking forward to all summer, the best thing about coming back and we can't play!"

Hermione rolled her eyes as she sat down at the long table and began helping herself to breakfast. "It's NEWT year Ron, you'll need to be studying most of the time anyway."

Ron's expression suggested that he didn't think it was much consolation and they fell into silence. Eventually Harry, who had until that point been deep in conversation with Ginny, leant over to speak to her. "How will you manage with all your tutorials, Hermione? Ron and I only have one evening a week to go to, you have three."

"I guess I'll find a way," Hermione replied, biting her bottom lip. "I have to somehow."

"You'll never have any free time!" Ron was particularly unhappy about this – he hadn't followed his girlfriend back to school to find out that he wouldn't be spending any time with her.

"It's only for one year Ron," she replied soothingly, placating him slightly before turning back to her breakfast. She finished quickly and rose to get some work done before her first class, not noticing that a pair of grey eyes followed her out of the hall.

-x-x-

It was safe to say that the last couple of years had not gone well for Malfoy. Backed into a corner, both by his parents and by some unfortunate decisions he had made when younger, he had found himself fighting in a war that he no longer believed in. True, he still held to his beliefs on the sanctity of pure wizarding blood, but he had been horrified by Voldemort's unrelenting quest for power and had begun to wish he had not been in the war at all.

Of course he had continued to fight, he was in no doubt that he and his parent's lives were forfeit unless he did. When Voldemort had fallen, he had felt immeasurable relief. It had been short-lived though, as his whole family had been arrested and tried soon after.

It was this, combined with the knowledge that his mother had lied to the Dark Lord, thereby bringing about his destruction, which had caused Malfoy to reconsider his life and decisions until that point. His father was in Azkaban and would be indefinitely, his home had been sold and they had moved into a much smaller property in the next county. His pride had taken a severe knock at this, but he began to consider whether any of it was really as important anymore.

He had many regrets, mostly surrounding bad decisions. He should have befriended Potter from the start, even if he always had the blood traitor and mudblood in tow, because then he may have had another option during the war. His only hope now was that he could still make some amends, thus patching some of his family's reputation. Granger had always been the least hostile and it may be possible to worm his way into her good opinion.

It was for that reason that he had been pleased when he had been assigned Head Boy, he knew Granger was a shoe in for Head Girl and it would give them opportunities to work together. He had been willing to make a truce in the head compartment, but when they actually came face to face he suddenly found himself vividly picturing one of the last times he had seen her, lying on the floor of Malfoy Manor being tortured by his aunt. At the time he hadn't been able to do anything to help, but it didn't make him feel less guilty. He had been severely reprimanded afterwards by his father for not identifying Harry immediately, and thus allowing them to escape. The next thought had been almost as unwelcome – the long summer recovering from the war had obviously treated her well and she was looking better than he had seen her before. He couldn't deceive himself any more, she was really quite pretty.

The combination of these thoughts had seen him frozen in place, and she had impatiently started to organise the prefects before leaving in a mood. So much for reconciliation. He was furious with himself for what he deemed to be a failure, it had been the perfect opportunity to make a good impression and he had stood there like a goon. His mood had deteriorated after that, so much so that the scowl was nearly permanent by the time that they had met McGonagall. She hadn't even arrived early, as he was sure she would, so he didn't get any opportunity to talk to her then either.

He was trying to think of new ways to approach her now as he watched her retreating back. He knew that they had several classes together – in fact she was in all of his classes. Maybe he could find a reason to ask for her help on one of his essays…no, that wouldn't do. A Malfoy would never ask a muggleborn for help with work. He would have to start coming up with ideas for the Christmas party in order to present them to her.

It never crossed his mind that he may subconsciously have an ulterior motive to talk to her.