CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE – Preparing

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Hermione sat in the eighth-years' common room, staring out the window. She had just finished the last round of Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests and found the name to be accurate. After an hour of scribing with a quill, the nib snapped off during her Defence exam. She nudged it off the desk and picked up a new one, scrawling in tiny font, trying to cram in all she had experienced with concealment charms, citing her year on the run. In the practical portion afterward, she made the Head Table 'disappear'—the Auror administering the Defence portion couldn't find it and had a difficult time dismantling the wards.

Next, she sat for another hour of writing about Monkshood, then a demonstration of pruning the delicate blooms. That was Wednesday.

Thursday, she tackled Charms and written exams for Ancient Runes and Arithmancy, transcribing the runes and calculating matrices. Friday she wrote about, then brewed, Veritaserum.

She missed Severus the most then, but refused to look his way during lunch. She sat her Transfiguration exam later in the day, choosing to write about animal transfiguring, since she had studied it for her Animagus test already. She impressed the ministry administrator with a rabbit-to-lizard-to-canary transformation. After some bumbling, the rabbit realized he could fly.

The tester nodded as he scribbled on a clipboard. Hermione coaxed the bird back with a carrot made from her quill, then returned him to his furry form.

Saturday, Dumbledore escorted her to the ministry, later in the evening in hopes to dodge the crowds and paparazzi. The few reporters tried to corner Hermione, but respected Dumbledore enough to give her some space. They took the lift to the registration office for her Animagus test.

They told her she passed as she hopped on the desk as an Arctic fox, coat white and 'bushier than normal,' according to their encyclopedia of animals. Hermione huffed through her snout.

Now Sunday, she rested her body though her mind whirred. She was no longer a student here. Minerva could teach her some more Transfiguration techniques, the esoteric stuff. But once she got her N.E.W.T.s scores, she would go back to the Ministry for her Transfiguration accreditation certificate.

Dumbledore said she could stay until the end of the semester and graduate with the others. He and Minerva suggested she start observing teachers and their methods, in case she wanted to be 'a regular teacher like the rest of us,' according to Minerva.

Hermione let her head fall back into the chair. I don't have anywhere else to go, she thought.

Observing was an excellent idea. She would need to get each professor's permission. She sighed. Professor Snape would be a kink in the plan. They hadn't spoken since Ginny's party a month ago. She didn't raise her hand—and he asked significantly less questions than before, probably so she wouldn't be tempted to answer.

She very well was not going to talk to him until he deigned to speak to her after his dramatic exit from the Three Broomsticks, thank you very much.

He had kissed her, then bolted. Minerva waited a good forty minutes before asking what had 'his skivvies in a twist.'

Hermione clenched her teeth. I should have figured. He thinks I'm a know-it-all child still. That's what he means by 'being too old.'

"Grumpy Gryffindor alert!" Ginny said as she hopped into the arm chair at Hermione's side. "What's going on in that brain of yours?"

Hermione shrugged and pulled her jumper sleeve over her left wrist.

"Just tired?" Ginny nodded sagely.

"Yeah, a bit."

"We'll get some food in you soon enough."

Hermione looked at the blue sky through the window. "What are you going to do after Hogwarts?"

"Try out for some Quidditich teams. I'm shooting for the Harpies."

"Nothing else? No back-up plan?"

"I got George's shop, sure. And the Quidditch Supply Shop, until I sign with a team."

Hermione chewed the inside of her cheek. She didn't think sports were a sensible career choice, but there wasn't a point in saying it.

Ginny adjusted in the chair so she looked straight at Hermione, her knees curled in front of her chest. "What do you want to do come June?"

"The Ministry."

"As?" she prodded.

"In some liaison department—or in the Wizengamot," she said, weary and wary.

"You're not just saying that because we all bullied you about it?"

Hermione shook her head. "I think I would like it—I mean, I can micromanage and work my way onto a committee." She gave a small grin. "I could get used to it."

Ginny nodded excitedly. "I know you can."

Hermione admired that about Ginny, the put-your-mind-to-it attitude.

Ron excited his bedroom, the ends of his hair wet from a shower. He checked his watch. "Time for lunch?"

"You must set that watch by your rumbling stomach," Ginny joked. She and Hermione rose from their chairs to follow him to the Great Hall.

Ron patted his gut. "It has served me well."

He peppered Hermione with question about the exams on their way down the stairs. He didn't have long until he had to face the tests himself. She told him all she could remember but got distracted when they saw an odd Ravenclaw bobbing across the second floor landing.

Luna padded barefoot across the flagstone floor in straight lines, back and forth between the opposing walls of the corridor.

"What're you doing?" Ginny yelled from the top of the Great Staircase.

Luna looked up, still walking her tense pattern. "Making sure I've been in every inch of the castle. We've only a few months left here, you know."

That made the Weasleys and Hermione pause. They looked at the paintings and tapestries a little closer from then on. Luna quit her task to join their group.

"Sit with me at the Ravenclaw table," Luna said to Hermione. "I want to hear all about your Animagus test."

"I was pretty nervous."

'Did you know what you were going to turn in to? I assume it wasn't a surprise."

As they sat, Hermione nodded. "I knew a week ago, actually. A fox."

"Did you show off early for your N.E.W.T.s?"

Hermione chuckled. "No, I had to register first."

"Think you passed those?" Luna asked coyly, buttering a scone.

"Maybe."

"If you failed, may the Nargles strike me down."

"I didn't realize Nargles were violent."

"They certainly aren't," Luna affirmed with a nod. Ron and Lavender sat down across from them.

"I think I'm gonna move into Grimmuald Place after graduation," he said with no preamble. "You?"

"I've thought about it."

Lavender bit the inside of her cheek as she poured herself some tea. "How about you, Luna?"

"I think I will travel." The Ravenclaw's pale face turned pink.

"That's a boy blush," Lavender sang. "You travelling with someone?"

"No." She shook her head like she was trying to bury it in her neck. "Might meet up with someone."

"Who?" Lavender and Hermione demanded.

She muttered, "Rolf Scamander."

The girls started clapping. After some coaxing, Luna told them how she had been exchanging letters with the boy since the birthday party.

At least someone had a good experience with the party, Hermione thought.

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Hermione and Ron walked around the lake with Neville, who was looking for moss spores to cultivate.

"You're selling your parents' house?" Ron exclaimed. "You don't think they'll want it back?"

Hermione shrugged. "If I was them, I'd stay in Australia," she chuckled without any humor.

Without looking up from the lake, Neville said, "You could stay in Australia, with them."

"I am a Briton, and I plan on staying."

"She's gonna be a minister," Ron said. He kicked a rock into the water. "Or a teacher."

Hermione grumbled. "Nobody here looks ready to quit."

"Yeah, well, someone's turned them all young. They could be here for a hundred more years each, at this rate." Ron stretched his shoulder.

Neville held a slimy green strand of lake-goop between his finger and thumb. "I looked all over but could only find plants that get rid of wrinkles, not shave off years. I don't know how they did it."

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A few days later, Hermione left the greenhouses just as Neville was walking in for his session with Professor Sprout.

"What's up, 'Mione?"

"Just asked Professor Sprout if I could observe her class. She and Hagrid so far have agreed. Going to ask Flitwick now before his next class."

"You going to ask Madam Hooch?"

"Ha, no, I will let the sports part of the ministry assess that—as long as they don't dominate the school day," she laughed.

"Good luck with that." Neville walked into the greenhouse. Hermione looked up at the castle. Dumbledore waved at her from his window. She waved back.

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Professor Flitwick and Professor Sinistra were talking in the Charms room—Hermione tackled two birds with one stone. Next she went to find Professors Wrinkle and Vector in the staff room. Minerva and Professor Snape were in there as well.

Hermione kept her focus on Vector's corner when she asked about observing. Wrinkle and Vector happily agreed; Hermione turned and waved at Minerva as she exited. Severus hadn't looked up from his magazine.

LINE

Minerva's foot bounced, her leg crossed over her knee. If he looked up, Severus would undoubtedly see pursed lips on her face.

"I have noticed a lack of Hermione in your office, Severus."

"Maybe you're not observing your own office time well enough then."

"You two have a bit of a row?"

"No."

"Not even at the birthday party?"

"I don't recall."

"You two haven't spoken since."

That didn't warrant a response, in Severus's opinion.

"What's the problem?"

Severus lowered Potions Weekly, face stoic. "The 'problem' is that we would not be having this conversation six months ago."

Minerva crossed her arms. "I'd say that's unfortunate."

Severus narrowed his eyes.

"You were a curmudgeon."

"Happily so."

"That's not possible."

He set the paper before his face and considered leaving. Her heard Minerva sigh, but she didn't speak again.

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Dear Harry,

I have just finished N.E.W.T.s and my Animagus exam (as you no doubt read in the paper). I have decided to remain at Hogwarts to observe the professors, in case I'd like to become a teacher one day. After graduation, I would like to move in with you and Ron (and I assume Ginny? Good luck getting past Arthur and Molly.) The envelope I've included is addressed to a realtor—could you post it the Muggle way? I will pay you back. I want to set something up to get the house sold eventually.

Love,

Hermione

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Dear 'Mione—

I've been itching to get in the records room and see how you did on both tests. What did you turn into and when can you teach me? You'll be a new McGonagall, after all. How are they doing, by the way?

I already have your old room cleaned up, and I'll be sure to send Kreacher in for a second round. I haven't asked Ginny yet—the idea of Molly and Arthur with Beaters bats keeps popping into my head.

I will send the letter but shouldn't you wait until you find your parents before selling the house? They may want it back. Don't get discouraged—we'll help you find them.

Tell Ron I found his favourite Chudley Cannons bookmark in one of the kitchen cupboards.

Love,
Harry

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Hermione looked up from the missive. "Ron, Harry found your bookmark." It was just a piece of stiff paper, but he had been searching for it each time they visited Grimmauld Place.

"Sweet." He tossed away his Herbology homework.

Though the two were sitting in the eighth-years' common room instead of Gryffindor Tower, everything else was the same—one of the boy's doing all they could to put off an essay, Hermione already finished with most of her work.

Ron was scrutinizing her now, like he did a chessboard. Hermione picked up her quill but didn't know what to write aside from "fox" and "maybe I can help you learn to be an Animagus this summer."

"Is something wrong?" Ron asked, in the blunt Weasley manner.

"No," she replied, perplexed.

"You seemed pretty happy when the professors were kids. Now you're back to being unhappy."

She shrugged. "It was fun watching them. A bunch of rambunctious little distractions."

He cocked his head. "Do you just really want kids?"

"Well, yeah. Eventually." She rolled up Harry's scroll and clutched it in both hands.

Ron sighed and shook his head. "You're still never gonna tell me what's wrong."

She shrugged. "Just the future," she mumbled.

He waved his hand. "You'll be fine. It's gotta be something else bothering you."

She scoffed at him. Everyone assuming she would 'be fine' just because she excelled academically irked her. It had never been so simple, as a Muggle-born witch.

"I hate to see you fall back into misery like this."

Hermione looked at him. Did she look as old as Ron? Had they aged so rapidly these past two years?

"I like Severus," she said as quickly as she could. "Like, a lot."

Ron stopped moving, probably stopped breathing, by the looks of it. She waved her hand in front of his glassy eyes.

He exhaled and gasped for air. "Bloody Hell, Hermione," he scolded, "you can't just spring that sort of thing on me. Ease into it next time, will you?"

She crossed her arms. "You're taking this relatively well."

"It was obvious enough, but it isn't something you can prepare yourself for," he admitted. He didn't make eye contact. "You know he's a bit older, right?"

"Thank God you're here to point that out. Like he hasn't at every opportunity."

"Well if he didn't mention it, he'd be a pervy creep, now wouldn't he?" Ron pointed at her with the feather end of his quill. "The last time he loved somebody, she died. Do you think that's easy to get over?"

Hermione shook her head, a bit sheepish. "He doesn't love me."

"All right, well, he likes you. And since he's been a miserable bastard as long as we've known him, he probably hasn't liked anyone since Harry's mum. Let alone a student."

"He still shouldn't kiss me then run off like he just kissed a troll or something."

Ron flicked a balled up scrap of parchment at her nose. "I told you to ease me into it."

Hermione sighed and looked out the window. It was another beautiful day she spent wallowing. "What am I going to do? It's not like I'll have a reason to see him much after I graduate. I'm going to the ministry at the end of the week to tell them I want to run."

"I'd say tell him or else he'll be a miserable bastard forever and torture my children like he tortured me." Ron picked up his book. "The future of my children's sanity rests on your shoulders."

Hermione huffed and retreated to her bedroom.

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Minerva blew into the office like a hurricane, opening the door and closing it, loudly, with no warning.

Severus glared at the red line he had accidentally drawn across an essay.

"Did you know I let a man get away from me because I was scared?" she demanded, the only warning a declaration was coming being her balled fists.

He scowled up at his colleague. "No."

"I will not watch the same thing happen to you."

"I'll keep that in mind the next time a man comes calling."

Minerva stamped her foot and stormed out of the office. Severus jumped at the loud bang the door made.

Blasted Gryffindors.