August 2000
The twenty-eighth of the month came sooner than Hermione thought it would and she was standing in the Great Hall of Hogwarts once more. Her belongings and Crookshanks had already been sent to her suite and office and she smiled to herself at the thought of being back. Neville had arrived before her, talking to Professor McGonagall and Hagrid over by the professor's table. She made her way towards the trio, greeting each familiar face she passed. As she neared them, she noticed a blonde head standing just a few paces behind McGonagall that she hadn't noticed before. What in fresh hell was Draco Malfoy doing here?
Neville was speaking in a rushed tone, "Headmistress, I just don't understand. How are the students supposed to feel safe? Snape ruined that subject for our class, what's the difference? No offense, Malfoy." He shot the last statement with a pained look towards Draco who looked entirely indifferent.
"I understand your concern, Longbottom, but please rest assured that my students' safety comes first. I also don't want Defense Against the Dark Arts to be the same as when Snape taught it. The only time I'll have my wand on my person is when I'm exhibiting a spell for them, but otherwise I'll have it in a clear case at the front of the room so they can see it and feel comfortable in my presence. There's a myriad of things I want my students to feel in my classroom, none of which are unsafe or uncomfortable." Draco stared at Neville with empty eyes. Hermione could see the exhaustion in his face; he must've kept himself up all night with worry over this concern.
"Oh, Ms. Granger!" McGonagall's voice broke through the tension and cast the attention her way. She smiled warily, glancing between Neville and Draco with cautious eyes.
"Hello Headmistress! Neville, Malfoy. And Hagrid! It's been so long," she hugged the half-giant, being crushed against him in a warm embrace. Oh, how she had missed him.
"Hermione! It's been ages, gal! How ya' holdin' up?" Hagrid exclaimed, letting her go with a large toothy grin.
"I've been well, I've been staying with Harry and Ginny for a while and they're good as well," Hermione couldn't stop smiling, even as she felt Draco's eyes on her. "Anyways, I couldn't help but overhear. Neville," she turned to face him. "I think Malfoy will surprise us and we can only trust the Headmistress' judgements on this. Time will tell, of course. And Malfoy?" She glanced at him.
"Yes?" He clipped out. His eyes met hers.
"Good luck. Tough subject you've got there," she sent him a small smile, trying to bridge the gap of tension between them. He forced a smile in return. They were about to be in for an interesting year.
September 2000
It had never dawned on Hermione that teaching people she had just been in school with would be difficult. The first week had been hell but she was determined to make the most of her shitty situation. The students seemed indifferent to her lecture, much like how it had been with Professor Binns, though there were a few who wanted nothing more than to hear about her adventures with Harry and Ron during the war. Those students drained her more than those who blatantly didn't care.
She found herself wandering the library that first Saturday as the students were out on the grounds enjoying some of the sunlight that had peeked out for the afternoon. Turning a corner, she almost crashed into a body that appeared before her. Hands grabbed her shoulders, keeping her from making a fool of herself. She looked up to see Draco staring at her with a bemused expression.
"Granger," he said carefully, letting her go and taking a step back.
"Malfoy, what are you doing here?" She asked, crossing her arms. "It's lovely outside, wouldn't you rather spend your day out there instead of being in the dusty old library?"
"I see hanging with the wonder boy and his weasel have had an effect on you," he raised an eyebrow. "Not everyone but you hates the library, Granger. I happen to prefer dusty old books over harsh sunlight and screaming children."
"Ah," she flushed. "Don't call Ron a weasel, it's rude."
"I thought that was my one defining character trait, my apologies, I'll work on that."
With a start, Hermione noticed the lilt in his voice and the thought crossed her mind before she could stop it. Is he flirting…?
"Be sure that you see to it," what shocked her more was that she felt compelled to play along. "And go to the store to pick up some other traits; you're rather lacking in that area."
"But, Granger, I prefer to lack in others so that I may perfect the true definition of my rude self." He leaned on the shelf beside him and crossed one leg over the other, a hand in his pocket. "What brings you to the dusty old library on this fine day?"
"Seeking peace and quiet from the outside world, if I'm to be honest," she sighed. "It's hard to teach when you're practically the same age as your students. A few years in age doesn't feel like such a large gap when you went to school with them about a year ago."
"I understand. It's even harder when you think about the parts we both played in the war," his voice was dark and laced with disappointment. "Your students see you as a savior and put you on a pedestal, and half my students can't look at me, much less say my name."
"I'm sorry, Malfoy."
He cocked his head. "Whatever for?"
"You're having to deal with all that. Give them time though, I'm sure they'll come around the more time you spend with them and show them it's okay to let their guard down around you. It worked with me, didn't it?"
"You feel comfortable with me?" He was shocked, eyebrows raised high.
"More than I've ever felt with you at least. You're not that snotty, bigoted brat anymore. You're tolerable and what you had Nott do on your birthday a year or so ago was a good example of that," Hermione felt her chest tightening. "Actually, Malfoy, I think I'm gonna go to Hogsmeade real quick and grab some sweets. I think they're well deserved after this week. I'll talk to you later?" She wasn't sure why she asked.
"If you'll have me, Granger," he said quietly. She almost hadn't heard him, but sent him a guarded smile in response.
October 2000
Hermione and Neville always sat together in the Great Hall at the professor's table, whispering jokes to one another and discussing the latest findings on medicinal plants and archaeological sites. She asked after his grandmother and parents, and he asked after Harry and Ginny. It was their first Halloween together as fellow professors, and they teamed up for a shared costume.
That's how Hermione ended up with her hair charmed to stand straight upward and glamoured to be white and black. She winced, looking in the mirror and patting at a few stray curls that hung by her neck. Frankenstein's bride was a classic muggle character, the book and movies that she had introduced to Neville being the catalyst for their costume. When she arrived at the table, she found herself trying not to bend over laughing at the sight of his own hair and the thick plastic screws he had attached to his neck. She'd at first taken issue with everything in the movies not being compliant with the book, but upon seeing Neville, she had to take back her issues. It was hysterical seeing such a soft, kind person dressed as a raging monster from the muggle TV screen.
Draco, who usually sat on her left, had reused his vampire costume from Luna's party the year before. He stared at the two matching characters and shook his head slowly.
"I don't understand what the actual hell I'm looking at," he muttered, which caused Hermione to break out into peels of laughter. Neville grinned.
"You should really watch Frankenstein, Malfoy. And, hey! Good Dracula costume," Neville said as Hermione sat down.
"Drac-who? I'm Nosferatu," Draco responded quizzically, gesturing to himself. Hermione burst out laughing again.
"It's the same thing, Malfoy, just different names," she managed to get out. He shook his head, turning to his dinner, while Hermione and Neville giggled to themselves about their costumes.
November 2000
The first snowy weekend of the season came upon them and Hermione made her way to Hogsmeade to meet up with Harry and Ron. She donned her warmest set of robes, a thick burgundy scarf, and her boots. The wind wasn't too bad today so she felt comfortable in her outerwear.
She arrived at the Three Broomsticks in high spirits, finding her boys in their usual back corner already sipping on butterbeers. She grinned at them before settling herself down opposite Ron and beside Harry.
"What's happening with you two? I feel like it's been ages," she said, before grabbing the butterbeer they had ordered ahead for her and taking a sip.
"George and I've been maintaining the shop, working on some new products to help with anxiety and depression. Happiness is well deserved after everything everyone's gone through, you know?" Ron rubbed his chin as he talked. Hermione nodded as Harry dipped his head down to his chest.
"I've been a test dummy for some of them; they're coming out pretty well," Harry mentioned and then took a sip. "And the Auror trainings been pretty good too. I've been put on my first project with Auror Wilkins and it's taking up a huge chunk of my time."
"That all sounds great, you guys! I'm so proud of how far you two have come - truly." Hermione smiled at them. "Hogwarts has been pretty well. I'm almost always spending my time with Neville which has been nice. Plus Malfoy's around half the time so I always get to let my frustrations out somehow," she laughed and lifted her glass for another sip, before noticing Ron's tensed shoulders.
"Malfoy's teaching?" Harry asked with raised eyebrows. "How'd he get that position?"
"I'm unsure of that actually but he's really a rather competent teacher. He's also really considerate of his student's feelings about what he's doing." Hermione shrugged.
"What's he teaching?" Harry lifted his glass to his lips.
"Defense Against the Dark Arts," said Hermione. Harry choked on his drink, spluttering.
"You're joking!" He exclaimed, glancing incredulously at her. She shook her head no, and then turned to Ron who had turned red during their conversation.
"What is it?" She questioned him.
"Don't let him get too close to you, Hermione. You never know what he might do," Ron finally said darkly.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"He could be trying to take advantage of you, or try to hurt you," he explained. "If he did anything to you, even I'm concerned about what I would do to him. Not even mentioning what Harry would do."
"Which would probably be nothing short of illegal," Harry piped in. "Even I couldn't save us from Azkaban."
"Bloody hell, you two. I promise you Malfoy has been nothing less than courteous of me in the time since eighth year. You two would know that had you continued your education!" She lightly slapped her hand onto the table. Both boys groaned, knowing exactly what lecture they were about to receive.
December 2000
It felt like hours since Hermione had sat down, her legs beginning to shake under her and she laughed at the feeling. She had slipped a flask into her dress again, courtesy of Ginny's previous actions at the last Yule Ball she'd attended. The flask had been tugged from her dress more than just a few times during the evening and Hermione felt safely drunk, as much as she could be without losing her wit as a professor.
Hermione wound through the throng of people, bumping hips and smacking elbows followed by apologies. After a few minutes of struggle to make it out, she found herself falling out into a hallway. Carefully, balancing herself on the wall, she walked down the hallway, eyes straining in the dim light for an alcove to sit down in.
Upon seeing the glow of moonlight ahead of her, she smiled triumphantly and threw herself down upon the stone the minute she made it to the window. However, her shoulder made contact with something very much human. Hermione turned, horror gnawing on her stomach at realizing she was practically in Draco's lap. He stared back at her, eyes wide and mouth open.
"Granger, what are you-" he went to push her away from him, but to both of their surprises, she didn't budge. Hermione's brain struggled to catch up to why she didn't move but she watched him glance upwards, the color draining from his face. She followed his gaze, finally coming to the same conclusion he had - Hogwarts' magical mistletoe hung above their heads with its bright white berries dangling heavily.
"Granger," Draco's voice was lower than before. "I'm not kissing you."
"Right," she answered, feeling both relief and indignation burn in her esophagus. For some reason, the anger overburdened the relief, and she knew she'd blame it on the alcohol in the morning. "Wouldn't want you to spoil your perfect pureblood lips with my diseases."
"That's not why!" Draco bit out, a rose tint bursting across his cheeks. "You're clearly drunk, I can smell it! Besides, I don't particularly feel like having Weasel try to hex me again."
"If you're worried about the drunk part, here have some-" she tugged the flask from her breast, pressing it into his open palm and, if possible, watched his cheeks burn brighter. "And trust me, Ron would never even know. I don't feel up to dealing with that rage; I already had enough of it over the past seven years, I can just imagine what he'd do if he knew."
They were silent for a moment, staring at each other.
"It's the mistletoe, Malfoy. We can't get away from each other without kissing," she whispered, the whiskey slipping its grip from around her brain to let the anxiety flood through her again. His eyes darted back and forth between her own before he unscrewed the top of the flask and tilted his head back to drink. She watched the line of his neck as he swallowed, the heat of proximity warming her own cheeks and causing goosebumps to prickle across her chest and arms.
"Does he hit you?" He asked, finally lowering the flask from his lips. His tongue darted out to touch his bottom lip and he sneered. "Has he hit you?"
"No! No, Ron doesn't hit, he just yells." Hermione scrambled to scoot away from Draco, once more finding that she couldn't. The burn in her throat had started to bleed into her cheeks and through every nerve along her hands and feet. Draco sighed then, and it hit her with a shock that she found the sound pretty, like the gush of air that whistles as it passes your ear.
Before she could say anything to push those thoughts out, he had grabbed her chin with his right hand and pulled her in, their lips slotting together. Her eyes closed upon impact and she found herself wondering when the disgust would filter into either of their brains, but again felt a ripple in her chest upon realizing she didn't have any disgust to bring forth. Slowly, she brought her left hand up to the curve of his neck, curling her fingers around the junction of his shoulder and waited for him to push her away.
Instead, that sigh of his pushed against her bottom lip and, without thinking, she dropped it lower and allowed his breath to join hers in an open kiss. His left hand came up to join his right, both hands sliding until they were holding her cheeks so gently she thought her brain would combust. His fingers splayed around her ears, thumbs rubbing softly over her cheekbones. No one had ever held her so softly before, Ron always-
Ron.
Hermione used her hand on Draco's shoulder to shove him away from her. He stared at her with bruised lips; she hadn't noticed when she had started nibbling on his bottom lip. She glanced up to see the mistletoe curl up into itself and die, and she looked back at him to reassess every emotion that currently flittered across his face. Was she about to be hit, or cursed, or yelled at? What was he thinking so deeply about? His eyebrows creased tightly together, the tightest she'd ever seen them.
His left hand reached up again and she let him touch her face, but not without wincing at the contact. He lowered it quickly.
"Why?" He asked.
"Why what?" She didn't know what he referred to.
"Why everything? Why are you still here?"
She paused, mouth open. Why was she still sitting practically in his lap? The whiskey had left her body at some point during the kiss, and sobriety rushed through her as if she'd just put on wet socks.
"I don't- I don't know."
"Why...why did you stop?"
Hermione felt her blood run cold. Ron. He would be furious, he would kill him. Even though they had moved past any kind of relationship, it didn't mean he wasn't an egotistical, jealous prat when it came to her. Just knowing that this had occurred would send him on a rampage.
"Ron, he…I don't want him doing anything," she stuttered out.
"How would he know, you said so yourself," Draco responded, eyebrows creasing even tighter. "Neither of us are going to tell him."
"Well, yes, but if this had gone on…" She crossed her arms, starting to get chilly without the warmth of the Ogden in her veins but she wasn't inclined to pull the flask out again just yet.
"Gone on?" At Draco's question, realization of what she'd said hit Hermione like the cruciatus.
"I didn't mean that, I don't know what I'm saying, I'm drunk-" She stumbled over her words, trying to cover up the mistake she'd made. His eyes narrowed before he slipped an arm around her waist and reached for her face again.
"You know exactly what you said, Granger," he whispered across her lips before kissing her again. With a rush of fire dancing along her fingertips, she stiffened at first before letting her hands fall once again to his shoulders. He broke away from her and she gasped, not ready to be breathing her own air.
"Tell me no," he said and she stared at him. Her heart pounded, echoing in her ears and she clenched her thighs tight as her lips parted and no sound came out. "Tell me no." His voice was firmer but, when she didn't respond, he nodded before diving back in for a third kiss. This one was messier than the other two, as if he was waiting for her to come to her senses. Her senses, however, seemed to have run away from her and she melted against him. With a start, she realized that she wanted this to go on.
Draco was good at this, and he was kinder now. Maybe, just maybe, he'd be sweet to her and treat her right, at least in the moment. Draco didn't care deeply about her and maybe that was a good thing. This was a moment of lust that she could use to her advantage. Here was a man that clearly wanted something from her that she was wanting in return; who would she be to refuse it?
The moment was interrupted by giggling. Hermione pushed away from Draco, looking up to see a few students peering around the corner at them before they noticed her looking and rushed off. Her face began to flush bright red and she stood hastily, almost falling over if not for the thick arm that wrapped around her waist and kept her upright.
"Malfoy!" She hissed at him, shrugging out of his grip. "Those were our students who just saw that!"
"They saw?"
"Yes! And we're supposed to be setting examples for them, not acting like horny teenagers desperate for a romp in a broom closet," she muttered. He stood as well, looking down at her with a glimmer in his eye.
"I'm not opposed to something better than a broom closet," was all he said. Her hand whipped out to smack him in the stomach.
"Stop it. This isn't going any further, Malfoy. Goodnight." And she headed back towards the Great Hall where the dance was still raging. She'd have preferred to go to sleep early, especially because her mind was racing from the implications of what he had said. With a groan, she dug her fingers against her closed eyes. Images were floating in her head of things continuing and she really didn't need that right now.