II. Chapter One – A Tempting Offer

Disclaimer: All the characters that you recognize belong to J. K. Rowling. All other characters are mine. This story is purely for fun, and I don't make any money off it. Unfortunately, the story isn't mine ether: this is in response to Wormey's 'Heir Challenge'. Go to her page if you want to read the requirements! Thank you for reading! Constructive criticism is welcome, as always.

Hermione Granger was twenty, passionate, respected, had recently graduated with one of the highest NEWT scores in history, considered one of the brightest witches of her time—and also about to be jobless.

She sighed in an exaggerated tone, skimming through the Daily Prophet once again for any sign of a job opening that looked appealing. But the truth was, she had never felt completely at home anywhere once she had left Hogwarts. Those ancient, enchanted walls held within them her accomplishments, her memories, her deepest secrets and highest aspirations. No one appreciated Hogwarts quite like Hermione Granger.

Which was why, the young witch was sure, she was never completely devoted to her work. True, she was much sought after post-graduation, but Hermione preferred to fly under the radar, taking small jobs with meager pay. Hogwarts was her past, and it was trying to make damn sure it would be part of her future, too.

Hermione rose from her desk and strode towards the window, glancing outside with vague interest. It was only nine o'clock, but already the streets just outside of the Leaky Cauldron were bustling with muggles and magical folk alike. Here and there clocked wizards could be seen, invoking odd stares from the muggles who didn't notice them abruptly disappear in the next instant. The wizard had either apparated or entered the Leaky Cauldron, a small pub that served as the doorway to Diagon Alley. To Hermione, the Leaky Cauldron was not only her home, but also her job choice—at the moment.

Pressed for time, Hermione chose a modestly corseted white-and-lavender dress as her daily garment. Even though she lived in one of the inn's upstairs rooms and had a tendency to be organized to the point of anal retentiveness, Hermione had trouble being on time.

"Miss Granger!" came a muted call from downstairs. "Miss Granger, you had better be awake!"

Hermione blanched, diving into the washroom to avoid persecution from the owner, Tom.

"Ridiculous," she muttered, disrobing and tossing her clothing aside. The miffed witch twisted the water taps and checked the temperature. She had just climbed into the steaming shower when—

"MISS GRANGER!"

Hermione let out a shocked squeal, struggling to wrap the shower curtain around her exposed flesh as she came face-to-face with the disembodied head of her employer.

"You're late!" it declared angrily. "I expect you fully robed in ten minutes!" It then disappeared with a small pop.

Visibly shaken, Hermione finished out her shower cautiously (and a little suspiciously). She dressed quickly, muttering to herself the whole time, before warding her door against unwanted intrusion and heading downstairs.

"Ah, miss Granger. I see you've decided to join us," commented Tom, giving her a rather smug glare.

"I might have been down sooner if I hadn't needed to keep looking over my shoulder for floating heads," she replied hotly.

"Fair enough," he chuckled, shooting her a sideways glance. Tom was a fair man, and Hermione a respectable woman, but lately he had noticed her becoming rather edgy, as if she were nervous. It didn't bother him when she occasionally zoned out or even when she snapped, but he made it his business when it cut into her work time. He was worried about the bright young woman, having more or less watched her grow up, observing the changes in her every year as she passed through with a friendly smile on her way to Diagon Alley.

And grown up she certainly had, he thought lewdly to himself. That untamable nest of bushy hair had righted itself into an attractive set of loose curls, golden-brown in color and of a manageably soft texture. Her eyes were much the same color; when the sun emblazoned her face and lit up her eyes, Tom imagined they could justly be compared to honey.

Hermione caught his eye and offered a tentative smile before gathering her notepad and heading over to serve a table of eager wizards. He watched her go, his eyes tracing the shapely curve of her hips and that adjoining mound of soft flesh.

Of course, Tom was a gentleman, but what attracted him most to Hermione was her body. She was the type of girl who would have men hex each other over her just to get a piece. She was trim but shaped like a woman, with full, ripe breasts and a smooth belly. What impressed Tom the most was that she didn't seem to know how gorgeous she was, and if she did, she was certainly modest about it. Hermione was a true poster child for beauty.

"The witch in the corner wants to know what her tab is," said Hermione, breaking Tom out of his lustful reverie. He looked at her, almost shocked, and she grinned at him questioningly.

"Something wrong?"

"Err … no, Hermione. You're doing well. Tell her this drink is on the house." He let out a deep breath when she turned away to complete her task. He hoped that she didn't yet know how to recognize that telltale gleam in a man's eye.

.x.

Hermione worked ceaselessly until late afternoon, and only then was Tom able to talk her into taking a short break. The Leaky Cauldron's peak business hour was coming soon; it was usually the busiest around eight o'clock. At this point Hermione went upstairs to freshen up and get a bit of reading in before returning downstairs, dismayed to discover that the bar had become several times more busy in the few spare moments she took to herself. She sighed dismally, trudging across the room to begin her shift.

"Madame, could I take an order, please?"

Hermione turned to address the wizard and was stunned into silence when she realized who the voice was coming from. It was none other than Albus Dumbledore, her former Headmaster.

"Professor Dumbledore!" she breathed, dashing over to the older man. Not only had Professor Dumbledore saved she, Ron, and Harry's life innumerable times, but he had also been an important contributing factor to the fall of Voldemort. Where others had doubted the word of the famous trio, Professor Dumbledore had always taken them seriously and listened with an unbiased ear. Hermione didn't doubt that he had been offered the position of Minister of Magic several times. But like her, Dumbledore's place was in Hogwarts.

"Ah, Miss Granger," he commented evenly, peering at her with thoughtful eyes. "What a pleasant surprise."

"I, uh, wasn't expecting to see you here. Hogwarts business?" she questioned, slipping into the seat beside him.

He chuckled. "I'm afraid so, Miss Granger. But why not get a nice, cold pint of firewhiskey and chat with a few friends before getting down to business, hmm?" He peered at her mysteriously over the top of his glasses, making her feel as if he were probing her mind.

Hermione blushed. "Ah, yes, sir. Your drink. So, a firewh—"

Dumbledore held up his hand, halting her in mid-sentence. "No need, Miss Granger. Actually, I came here to proposition you. I would like you to consider coming back to work for me at Hogwarts."

Hermione was stunned. The shock didn't last long, however; a few moments later, her heart began to leap at the thought of returning to Hogwarts. Had the librarian, Madam Pince, retired? Did they need another Defense Against the Dark Arts professor? But Hermione knew that no matter what the position was, she was going to accept. No matter what.

Dumbledore raised his eyebrow, and Hermione remembered he was a skilled Legilimens. She blushed, realizing that he was probably listening to her thoughts.

He offered another small chuckle. "Of course, there is the matter of transportation and salary, but I believe you will find the rooming to be quite satisfactory—"

"I'll do it!" she gushed, radiating happiness. Isn't this what she had dreamed of since graduation?

"Now, as for the position to be filled …" He trailed off, giving her another all-knowing glance. "You are to be the apprentice of our Potions Master, Severus Snape."

Well, there's another chapter. Bet you didn't see that one coming, did ya? xD Anyways. Oh, by the way, it's obviously disregarding the fact that Dumbledore is dead. Please review (if you want)!